by Chris Schlichting
Entering the Rogue Buddha there is a performer dressed in girly clothing (a pink dress and pink tights, heels), bent over with her butt facing out from a 4 foot wall that blocks a downward staircase. After the audience enters the performer's torso rises and a performance continues. Not necessarily in this order, I remember: The platform above the staircase covered with precious clutter and a bottle of booze. I remember all those things, including a lot of fragile content, being placed in a bucket and moved. Emily standing in her costume with a friendly face, ready to entertain the guests at the party. I remember her bending over the wall to the staircase bringing up something to share with the audience. I remember her packing precious belongings in the bucket and then moving them center stage to unpack them in a new location. I remember Emily peeling off a blond wig that also meant she shed the character from a different time. I remember a counted phrase that was an odd number-- not an 8. I remember that phrase (including a turnout and then and gentle movement ending with a jumping up and down that was very percussive) getting faster and faster and then getting exhausted, but needing to finish. I remember Emily putting her running shoes on and then starting from the back wall and saying she doesn't want to live in America any more. I remember the vocabulary of the movement was wed to the text and then without the text it continued, going forward feeling like a list she was reading off with her body, each part a word in an ongoing group of sentences unsure what they wanted to communicate-- the intention changing between the phrases. At times it seemed quick and present, at other times showing a tiredness.
I remember pulling from the cubby on the wall a tape player with stories about older relatives and precious art that was once in a home being thrown away or destroyed or just forgotten and not looked after. I remember the bucket being unloaded with all its valuables and then sole placed on the floor. I remember Emily walking away and outside and the sounds being mumbles in the wind, but still hear as Emily walked out of our sight.
The piece for me was an ode to the little pieces and people in our daily lives that get forgotten and dismissed. I found your presence and attention in the contact with these objects and details was thoughtful and sweet. It felt like a visit to worn down home with charm.