Author Archives: Paula Josa-Jones

Nov6

reveal/conceal

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“Unmade Beds” by Paula Josa-Jones — Photo:  George Sakmanof

This is a photograph from a VERY early solo that I made.  What I love about it is what is there and what is not there.  What is revealed and what is concealed.

Reveal/conceal is a favorite theme for me.  When I am teaching movement classes, I will often ask a performer to reveal one thing while concealing another. For example: reveal falling down and getting up while concealing a specific movement phrase.  It challenges the mover to dig deeper and makes the performance more mysterious, more layered.  I want them to surprise me with something less obvious.

Each day in the writing, I look to uncover something fresh..  Writing and publishing each day is a way of outing myself, of being sure that I show up, that I offer something meaningful. Daily publishing makes my art-making less theoretical, more immediate.

At the same time, I am very aware of what I am revealing and what I am concealing.  Of how I am shaping my digital presence.  Being a performer my whole life means that I have always played with identity and mask.  As I started to plan a shoot for a new headshot, I made a list of things to bring, and realized that I was costuming myself for another role.  Figuring out what to reveal and what to conceal.

So I am curious:  What do you revealing?  What are you concealing?  How do you play with those boundaries?

 

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Nov5

the view and the p.o.v.

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Photo:  Pam White

This is a view that I love.  Perhaps my favorite away-from-home vista.  When I am here I see things differently.  I have a fresh p.o.v.

My at-home views changed abruptly last week when a freak storm decimated some of my favorite trees.  Trees that are a daily part of my view and my day-to-day p.o.v.

That sudden, unwelcome change reminds me of the day I was riding Pearl because my own horse was injured.  We were in an indoor arena, trotting in a circle.  Suddenly a large truck rattled by the arena, and Pearl shot laterally about six feet in a nanosecond.  I hung in the air like the cartoon roadrunner, then crashed down onto the arena dirt.  I had a concussion, and how I see things was different for a while.

What happens when your point of view changes?  How do you adjust?

Nov4

sifting

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This is the work I care about in Wordle.  It’s a playful way to sift what is important.  As I am refining focus, Wordle and Michael Bungay Stanier’s Do More Great Work and Get Unstuck and Get Going are great tools.

As you sift, what stays and what do you set free?

 

Nov3

work-in-progress

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Photo:  Pam White; Sculpture:  Peggy Kauffman

This is a stage along the way to becoming one of Peggy Kaufman’s bronze sculptures.

I love seeing the clay in its rough form; the way you can feel her hands in the movement.

Being a work-in-progress is unsettling. Accepting the constant folding and refolding, the merciless cuts of the sculptor’s blade, the scratched out words,  images forming and reforming.

When I started this blog, it was to connect to my forthcoming book, Horse Dancing: Artists, the body and the bond between horses and humans.

Now, after working to align my site with Gwen Bell, I am feeling another wave of questions about focus and purpose.

In my experience, work-in-progress demands  intervals of quiet reflection, space, walking around the work and viewing it with a cup of tea from new angles.  Drop the urgency and take a swim.

How are you progressing?