samantha shay

I am a theatre artist and performer. I create
multi sensorial poetic landscapes, reminiscent
of a living dream. My work is at it’s best, a
collaboration between the body and its senses,
performing on the body like a welcomed
hallucination. My work is like scattered stars,
and it is for the audience to decide what
their associative constellations will be. My work
is not about a certain character or style, it is
about being alone, the challenge of connectivity,
and coming up against intellectual barriers,
and reaching beyond for something greater.
www.samantha-shay.com

new moon offering

image

 I offer the inhale before a singer begins an aria. I offer the space between when you are lying in bed awake and about to fall asleep and you think you hear someone trying to speak to you. I offer you space. I will always offer you space, forever and ever even after I am dead, go sit beneath a tree, find a leaf and look at the patterns and rhythms in its composition and that is me loving you. I offer you contemplation of the incomprehensible. I offer you something that existed before any of us existed and I don’t know how I offer it. Every time I don’t know how it will all happen and in my anxiety I wait for my love and your love and the beaded necklace of our DNA to prevail. I offer everything I have because I can’t keep it for myself; it is too heavy. I offer the fragrance of childhood.

I try to offer something.

Some thing.

Some thing that is fundamental.

-Samantha Shay

We open on Sunday.

Lately we have all been thinking about what it is to engage with our internal life, our magic, and our vulnerability, while still remaining with one another, and in space.  So often we go inward in order to forget, or we go inward and disregard that which is around us, or we have realizations and a beautifully vivid world that only exists for us alone.  Right now we are attempting to learn what it is to exist in both worlds simultaneously… to dig down into our chests, climb inside, and from there, open our eyes and learn to articulate. 

I always talk about being suspended between grace and gravity in rehearsal. It is one thing to talk about it, it is another to truly achieve that suspension.

Perhaps strength in art (and in life…) is learning to be articulate about our vulnerability.  To truly allow ourselves to be unguarded, so that we may rediscover our own abundance. In the end, we hope to stumble on gold, but in order to find it, stumbling is vital.

As the form is set, we are hoping it will be our vessel of abundance, our reconfiguring net. We hope to look inward and outward, so that the form is the harness for our cosmic chaos as we learn to see and feel.

What a mighty task. A lucky task. Lucky us.

Some of my favorite musings on this subject…

"When science and spirit are reconciled, the world becomes enchanted, full of wonder and magic. The great conversation is happening around us in many dimensions.

Magic might also be called the art of opening our awareness to the consciousness that surrounds us, the art of conversing in the deep language that nature speaks. And magic teaches us to break spells, to shatter the ensorcellment that keeps us psychologically locked away from the natural world.

To open up to the outer world, we also undergo inner changes and development. For we are part of the living earth, and to connect with her is to connect with the deepest part of ourselves.

We need the discipline of magic, of consciousness-change, in order to hear and understand what the earth is saying to us. And listening to the earth, doing the rituals the land asks us for, giving back what we are asked for, will also bring us healing, expanded awareness and intensified life.”

~Starhawk from The Earth Path: Grounding Your Spirit in the Rhythms of Nature

I have started rehearsals for our old show, Into The Fog, and finally, back on this blog.  We are rehearsing for the Hollywood Fringe.
  Returning to this piece seems to be giving me space. Space to look at my past creative process, but also seeing how I have grown since the last time I was in the rehearsal room with this piece. At the end of my first year of school for directing, I feel a new sensation, a comfortability with that moment when there are no words that want to come out of your mouth… no ideas… just that space when you are taking in the air - I am re acquainting myself with this moment. It was once a moment of terror, to think, to have an idea, to move forward. I used to panic thinking, “I am the director, I must have the answer” but more and more I find that the answers exist in the space between myself, the performers, and the air exchanged between our breathing and our energy. The longer I sit in that moment at a loss for ideas or momentum, the undercurrent slowly begins to emerge. I realize there is no such things as answers, just energy, this undercurrent that is our shared experience.  I just have to remind myself to honor it, and to trust myself to hear its flow.


Learning to sit in the fog again.  Its beautiful.

I have started rehearsals for our old show, Into The Fog, and finally, back on this blog.  We are rehearsing for the Hollywood Fringe.

  Returning to this piece seems to be giving me space. Space to look at my past creative process, but also seeing how I have grown since the last time I was in the rehearsal room with this piece. At the end of my first year of school for directing, I feel a new sensation, a comfortability with that moment when there are no words that want to come out of your mouth… no ideas… just that space when you are taking in the air - I am re acquainting myself with this moment. It was once a moment of terror, to think, to have an idea, to move forward. I used to panic thinking, “I am the director, I must have the answer” but more and more I find that the answers exist in the space between myself, the performers, and the air exchanged between our breathing and our energy. The longer I sit in that moment at a loss for ideas or momentum, the undercurrent slowly begins to emerge. I realize there is no such things as answers, just energy, this undercurrent that is our shared experience.  I just have to remind myself to honor it, and to trust myself to hear its flow.

Learning to sit in the fog again.  Its beautiful.

likeafieldmouse:

Chad Wright - Master Plan (2013)

"For the first part of this series, Wright created a mould in the form of an L-shaped suburban dwelling, and set out a series of sand castles on his local beach. This scale-model suburbia was washed away by the tide, which perhaps urges us to consider the relative transience of so solid a symbol of the American dream, particularly since the 2007 subprime mortgage collapse. "

Artist’s statement: 

"In Master Plan, I am conflating a child’s sandcastle with architecture typifying postwar American suburbia. This three-part series culls artifacts from my childhood, investigating suburbia in its vision and legacy.Phase One focuses on the mass-produced tract house, re-examining it as symbol for the model American Dream.”

(via emmagohlke)

I love this new music video for Julianna Barwick’s new single “Pacing” off of her new album Nepenthe, which was released yesterday. The video is by Federico Enrico Caruso.

I feel as if I’m always on the verge of waking up.

—Fernando Pessoa  (via aphelia)

(via zophish)

razorshapes:

Flight Paths

“There’s a plane leaving for anywhere you want right now, and in an hour, and in a day, and in a year. You can get out whenever you want, it’s comforting I think.”

razorshapes:

Flight Paths

“There’s a plane leaving for anywhere you want right now, and in an hour, and in a day, and in a year. You can get out whenever you want, it’s comforting I think.”

(via emmagohlke)

‘Why do we sacrifice so much energy to our art? Not in order to teach others but to learn with them what our existence, our organism, our personal and unrepeatable experience have to give us; to learn to break down the barriers which surround us and to free ourselves from the breaks which hold us back, from the lies about ourselves which we manufacture daily for ourselves and for others; to destroy the limitations caused by our ignorance and lack of courage; in short, to fill the emptiness in us: to fulfill ourselves. […] We fight then to discover, to experience the truth about ourselves; to tear away the masks behind which we hide daily. We see theatre - especially in its palpable, carnal aspect - as a place of provocation, a challenge the actor sets himself and also, indirectly, other people. Theatre only has a meaning if it allows us to transcend our stereotyped vision, our conventional feelings and customs, our standards of judgment - not just for the sake of doing so, but so that we may experience what is real and, having already given up all daily escapes and pretenses, in a state of complete defenselessness unveil, give, discover ourselves.’

Statement of Principles, Jerzy Grotowski (via theartmedley)

Sawdust and Diamonds by Joanna Newsom. When I first heard this I couldn’t stop listening.

Björk

—Solstice (Gameleste Version)

solstice (gameleste version) by björk

(Source: partytillyoubjork)