A Review of A THOUSAND WAYS (PART THREE): AN ASSEMBLY
On the seventh floor of the Stavros Niarchos Foundation Library, I found myself with eleven strangers sitting in a bare room containing only chairs, a sheet of plywood with a stack of cards, a coat rack and a table to gather our things. On each chair, a small placard warned that one of us would start the performance when the time came. With small whispers behind me of fellow friends, acquaintances and colleagues catching up over lost time, we sat waiting for the moment to begin. Who would lead us through this triptych performance installation?
At the sound of the door closing, without a beat, an audience member from the back jumps out of his seat for the performance to begin. Tasking us to be present and try to remember the hour we had together, we are led through a journey that we would all take part in as storytellers, neighbors, and temporary confidants.
In a space like the Library, I am reminded that there are few sites existing without barriers that offer civic engagement, accessible knowledge and community building. In fact, libraries have become places that have survived pandemics, offered resources to their most vulnerable community members and have been lighthouses for the communities they serve.
Intentional in location and empty space, A THOUSAND WAYS (PART THREE): AN ASSEMBLY tasks audiences to imagine and participate in both the present and an alternate reality not so far from our own. As we, a global society, face climate change, marginalization, an ongoing viral pandemic and interwoven social issues, where do we gather? Where do we find play, hope and stable ground in community?
Guiding ourselves at our own pace, the aforementioned cards are passed around to willing audience members as we take turns reading aloud the texts evoking images of natural forces at play, dirt, weathering change and finding moments of rest through it all. In the thirty minutes that have already gone by, the room that was once bare has become strewn with white note cards on the ground, chairs out of place and us no longer at the center. We have since gotten out of chairs to stand, move, sit on the ground and, ultimately, become more vulnerable. Our breath has deepened, our shoulders have relaxed and we have eased into intimacy together.
After so much time apart from our former lives prior to the events of 2020, how do we wade back into the waters of community? How do we bridge personal connection after state-sanctioned isolation and overreliance on social media?
While A THOUSAND WAYS (PART THREE): AN ASSEMBLY posed no answers to these questions, nor false optimism of what may come, the installment allowed us to be witnessed without judgment, fear or expectation, and simply exist in the present with one another. In a space like this, AN ASSEMBLY succeeded in breaking down the socialized barriers with breath, eye contact and truly taking in who was in the room. Sure, they were mere glimpses into people’s lives, but the show reminded us that in spite of all that has happened, there is no distance between us. As we return to the theater and other gathering spaces, I continue to wonder what rituals will be restored or reemerge out of the human desire to connect? And more importantly, what spaces will nurture processing something together than to leave seemingly unaffected.
As our time came to a close, we gathered our things and replaced our coats to go outside onto the deck. The final cards were read aloud one last time, flurrying into the New York air and back into the room. We gave bright smiles, well wishes and final goodbyes before disassembling and going back to our respective ways with the memory living among us.
