Pink Lake

November 11, 2015

The crackling crunch underfoot, my labored breathing and the pinkish patterns of salt (that I kept thinking of as ice) hypnotized me and I found myself trudging great distances tapping out a haphazard rhythm on a little drum to accompany me. The lack of obstruction meant I could keep in visual contact with the others and our sounding began to feel as if we were helping the lake to generate its own sound with us.

Our movements in relation to each other were somehow informing our sounding, and our soundings were somehow informing our movements, which although detailed seemed vast and slow. Something was being brewed up that was more than just random movement and sounding but I am unable to articulate what that was. 

 

 

Please reload

Featured Posts

I'm busy working on my blog posts. Watch this space!

Please reload

Recent Posts

February 7, 2019

January 30, 2019

October 31, 2018

May 30, 2018

March 23, 2018

August 16, 2017

March 10, 2017

December 29, 2016

Please reload

Archive
Please reload

Search By Tags

I'm busy working on my blog posts. Watch this space!

Please reload

Follow Us
  • Facebook Basic Square
  • Twitter Clean
  • Flickr Clean

I acknowledge that I live and work within, and am a temporary custodian of land that belongs to the Wotjobaluk people. I pay respect and homage to Wotjobaluk elders past and present on behalf of all GAIP participants. We also acknowledge and pay our respects to the original inhabitants of the lands we pass through during our performance collaborations and do our utmost to care for these places.