Day 17 brings you two written pieces to ponder over. Check 'em out, below.
A Song by D.H. Currier
A song is made to evoke something
but it should never quite know
what that something is
A song becomes a fraud
when it tells its listener, its patron
what it is
A musician is a manipulator
and her song, merely a messenger
of that certain something
Like any good mirror
all a song should ever know is itself
no past, no future
A song should never expect
nor be expected
but it may inspect itself
for secret coded messages
“Jai guru deva OM”
A song may be as odd as it likes
even if at odds with itself
Because even love songs
giddy and livid as beasts
may freely conjure some healthy hatred
just as a verse of vice
may be ripe for inciting some virtue
A song is never certain
of what it may inspire
Instagram Stories by whitney lamora currier
Eight ensemble members find volunteers in the audience who use Instagram and are willing to film them for an Instagram Story and post it on their personal account. They bring them to the stage and line them up and agree on a signal when the audience member will begin to film. They speak from SL to SR.
Are we absolutely giving in to the idea that each and every moment need be filmed and shared?
Are you the artist, the comedian or the every person?
The artist stays true to the glossy film of the simulated perfect every day.
The comedian labors over the intricacies of entertainment.
The every person handles the phone as if drunk, showing aliens things for the first time.
Express yourself how you want, but put it down more often than you pick it up.
And if they can’t give you approval for it, then they aren’t giving it.
No one grew up and wished they had a camera in their face more as a kid.
Lights out, cameras ideally glowing in the blackout.