by Karen Christopher
the first rule I learned is the coastline never stays the same
water takes the shape of what contains it
water has no shape to return to
on the surface tension of a drop
water molecules reach back to the body of water
not to mix with air, they cling to their own
the land cannot be stretched
nor does it compress
nevertheless it is always changing
the scape of the land and the body of the water
delineated by their edges with each other
along the coast you ask the first questions
the tide goes out and it comes back in forever
always returning, never the same
As a child I guessed everything in its way was elastic,
forever returning to form.
Permanent change was a concept I found unthinkable.
Everything working
to replace to regrow to return to form.
Everything, everyone, like a starfish.
An original design returning to itself.
at some point, lost to me now, everything changed forever
and again and again and again
still quite unformed I can’t send this
the perfect surface tension describes it
but something else, in the dead of night, like a sound
the power to return
power to return to something
something to return to
the measure of responsiveness
the press the weight the stress the strain
the measure of responsiveness
the flex the twist the slide
my socks sit shrivelled at my ankles
my waist band given up in limp ripples
this head too heavy for my watery neck
water takes the shape of what contains it
water has no shape to return to
words have the power to contain things
or to set them free
Now we’ve reached the verge, this is pulling taut, stop here, stop now, or pull further. This is the farthest point, the point of return on the round trip somewhere here. Taut and tighter and thinned with holding, a break or the snap-back point at hand or the return with grace and slowness
via resistance, gentle flow via not letting go.
He said: every part of your face moves
I looked directly at his eyes and we paused.
He was quite old. He said: your face is incredibly mobile.
At that time he was old, compared to me.
It might have been a compliment
or a simple observation
But we were sitting in a diner in Hollywood.
Several thoughts scattered through me including that the muscles in my face were getting a good work out and might thus remain supple into a fine old age and also:
the beauties of the big screen hold their faces quite still.
what if we just can’t do it?
I’ve studied the single drop of water
surface tension bending its contents
bending backwards to stay with its kind
In the elasticity of being here
like the straps that hold up the cushions on a love seat
a sofa so small you have to love the person you sit with on it
is it only the bend or the break?
As the band relaxes. Here we are
going somewhere from somewhere
whereas previously we were just here
quietly ourselves
not trusting not dividing not marking not deciding
not being simple nor complex.
Now we are standing out. We are noticing difference.
We are noticeably different.
We are differentiating from and with and in the context of.
We are vibrating at another frequency.
We are no longer at home.
lost the power to return
like socks down your leg or a waist band failing to hold fast
water doesn’t have a shape
it takes the shape that contains it
how can water be elastic
if it doesn’t have a shape to return to
but when it gathers together
it has a powerful push, is solid when frozen
vapour when it gets too hot
perhaps the perfect tension of a single drop
describes the shape of water
or maybe it does not
It is a song that melts
a song that elasticises
a song that metabolises
a song that metastasises
the song recognised the first time you hear it
the song you never forget the shape of
the song about the first rule I learned is that the coastline never stays the same
on the surface tension of a drop
the water molecules reach back to the body of water
not to mix with air or earth they cling to their own
the land cannot be stretched
nor does it compress
nevertheless it is always changing
the scape of the land and the body of water
delineated by their edges with each other
rule number one is the shore never stays the same
elongation or shortening; twisting or sliding; changing in volume; resisting the bend
are you a part-time person? are you a measure of things?
As a child I guessed everything in its way was elastic.
Permanent change was a concept I found unthinkable.
Perhaps I thought it really should be possible for everything
to be replaced or repaired to its originally conceived shape.
Everything, everyone, like a starfish growing a new one.
at some point everything changed forever
and again and again and again
I’m not sure when it slowly soaked in or when I
began to allow irrevocable change as a definite possibility
a possible inevitability.
Revelation arrived in a sudden onslaught of clarity as it dawned on me that the air of the oncoming bus had blown too close to my right arm. In fact there existed a kernel of a notion in the back of my head in which, unbeknownst to me until this moment, I equated a passing bus with a passing person and that in that unconscious knowing part of my brain, I didn’t really get out of the way because I didn’t really mind bumping shoulders with someone on the sidewalk and that, in anticipation of a skin and bone to skin and bone collision, I had not shifted my position to accommodate a skin and bone to hard metal meeting me at an unimaginable force of speed and substance combined.
A sharp inhale. In a moment when not one thing had actually happened,
I’d lost my elasticity.
And now experience folded accordianly,
intoning a tuneful moan, a sequence of flashing memories:
a heavy brick crushing my foot, a glass door braking around my face, the dashboard of a car enfolding me
elongation or shortening; twisting or sliding; changing in volume; a resistance to bending
What is the measure
Elastic in relation to what
When is a melt reversible
the first rule I learned is the coastline never stays the same
I am a body of water. And the landscape my body.
Karen Christopher is a collaborative performance maker, performer, and teacher. Her company, Haranczak/Navarre Performance Projects, is devoted to collaborative processes, paying attention as an act of social cooperation. H/N’s most recent work, Skywater, Facewater, Underwater Waltz made with Tara Fatehi and Jemima Yong will debut later this year. Entanglements of Two: A Series of Duets, co-edited with Mary Paterson, is a book of essays focused on the form and practice working in pairs. karenchristopher.co.uk
Something Other 