Some posters, images and texts from a series of performances and collaborations.

Eighteen                             Orpheus

 When they had reason to, the trees walked.  This may be myth or just the loose talk of some ancient trees. Orpheus, a magician and musician, journeyed on foot into the underworld to find his bride, Eurydice, stolen by jealous gods. He could not bring her back. And when he returned to the Earth, he walked through the mountains of Illirium to the cliffs by the Thracian seaside. Animals, stones, and trees followed him. His music moved them, so the story goes. All the legendary walkers – Dante, The Wandering Jew, (also known as Ahaeseurus, Issac Laequeder, Buttadeus - reportedly he was a shoemaker),  The Chronicler of the Cathedral Band – believed that walking is an act of imagination. And a responsibility.  “He was a witness, but he should not have been. Like you,” The Chronicler said, many times.  You walk, don’t you?  

                    Act  I
   (A round table with books, notebooks, maps, charts, cell phone, iPhone (mock-one),  laptop. A bookcase. Two chairs. One, at the table. A second, “comfy” chair on the other side. Costume: urban casual, loose pants and low turtleneck.

Walks in carrying a large frayed edged manuscript.
ALSATEL enters, begins as if continuing a conversation

I had no idea that walking and magic were related.

You must believe me on this.
That I wanted to study   walking.  (walks)
Oh, study, that’s a euphemism. (still with manuscript)
A Euupehmism…Euuuphhhhemism, Euuupehhh (getting slightly carried away, but catching himself). 
Simple enough (puts manuscript down, but checks it)
One foot in front of the other (walking around a bit. Looks.)  You’ve done it (daft). 
Walk walk       walk, tra-la, tra-la. tra-la. (Whistles. Snaps.)
Physio-kinesetical-logically: start with two feet on the ground. Remember that. We stand here, two feet on the ground, like trees. Heads swaying in the wind, limbs of freedom stretching, branches of connections, leaves of thought, spaces between the leaves…(sways, sighs. Walks. Stops.)
Trees, once upon a time, chose not to walk. They preferred just standing there, talking to each other, being walked to,   people underneath, circling. The seasons changing as they watched.   Hearing voices.   Children and lovers climbing all over. The birds and the bees.    Ants,    termites.     Owls.      What is blowing in the wind (arms drooping)    Sap.
Faces in the trees and all that. Bound to happen. Celts and the Green Men, living in trees. Imagine. Grinning down on the rest of us. Dangerous characters, seeing all. Full of secrets. Natural mystery. Where’s there’s secrets, there’s magic. Trees are full of it.
        (Visuals: trees, forests – real but stylized, movement

in the trees)
So, you stand still. Rooted. Then, it all begins.
 The big toe (wonders at it. Video imagery, fleeting)…so delicate, that thumb down there, leader  of  the toes,  locomotive   of the whole machine,  kissing the earth. The feet, amazing bunch of muscles and bones…tendons separate and meshed, strong as a bridge, flexible as a kite.  Each toe, a job to do. The ball of the foot and the big toe, a smusch and a push, and forward you go, slightly falling…Like that. Falling. Should have been a clue. You walk, you fall. Look at the feet of children, soft as hot dog buns before their arches form. Step step step step boom. Fall down. Boom. We all fall down.