Rite of Passage at Federal Hall

I had started this blog post and completely forgot about it. The farthest I got was inserting an image then saving the draft. Anyway. A couple of weeks ago I saw performance artist Erin Helfert's Rite of Passage at Federal Hall with sound design by composer Nina C. Young. Helfert stood in the center of the circular hall, where she would turn towards different directions of the space, and repeatedly recited a monologue about her rape and her 5-year struggle to seek justice for it. (You can read about her experience in more detail here.) 

Rite of Passage was powerful while it remained relatively simple. There were no other visuals aside from the artist herself, speakers, the space we were in, and other spectators. Helfert’s monologue, spoken into a microphone with live processing and electronics manipulated and created by Young, referred to “this body” and what it endured, the body that we were seeing right in front of us. To me, she was like a medium, channeling the past and speaking of it with both emotion and distance. The format of the piece itself, taking place in a government building, an amplified voice talking to strangers, took us back in time to the days of the trial. In her Chime for Change piece, Helfert writes: “Countless times, I’ve had to repeat the details of my rape before a room full of strangers, often into a microphone, the speakers blaring to a crowded courtroom audience.” 

It was a gray day when this took place and I was almost too lazy to leave the apartment but I’m so glad I did. I was moved by how Helfert, with Young, both created something beautiful and demonstrated great strength after such an ugly and horrific experience.

Piano at the pop-up

I'm on a plane heading to Fort Lauderdale, and from there we'll go to Key West for a sorely needed getaway. It was a little painful to get up at 4:45 am this morning since we were up late packing after performing at the J. Elster pop-up in TriBeCa. Jennifer, the "J" of the gallery's namesake, overhauled the Steinway piano of her late grandfather, harpist Reinhardt Elster, the oldest retiree of the Metropolitan Opera. Trevor Gureckis and I played solo piano pieces: I played the fugue from Ravel's le Tombeau de Couperin and the cadenza from Potential Energies, composed by Trevor, and he played Philip Glass's Mad Rush as well as his own nocturne. People would get so close when we performed. Some dude was even standing in the curve of the piano looking at me. I didn't mind; I thought it was cool that the idea of physical distance between performers and audience somehow dissolved for people in this setting.

The gallery was full of Jennifer's artistic reflections on existence, which included collaborations with David Bowie and Yoko Ono, and a video called "Cemetery," which Trevor and I perform in. It was exciting to see it, since it was taped in 2014 and finally premiered last night. Other performances included Met harpist Mariko Anraku and a makeup artist/musician on singing bowls (will find his name!), and impromptu performance art by Jennifer. 

One of my favorite moments was when Julia Wilkins, who was also in "Cemetery," just started dancing with the harpist. Someone behind me said, "Is that supposed to happen?" When Jennifer got up to join her it was clear the answer was "Yes."

After experiencing this I feel more compelled to pursue all the weird, random ways I want to express myself. It's inspiring to see someone do it so beautifully and honestly.

And now...pics! 

This was so much fun to be a part of! There's a short clip of it on my Instagram (@sugarvendil) 

My friend Barbara Anastacio viewing "Cemetery"

 Mariko & Schaeffer