Developments from the rather uncatchingly titles, at present, 'Fire Escape Performance Research' has taken forth on a bold path, steering a course towards the old 'new' worlds of the immigrant needlework and tailoring history and lineage [see Comments to Fire Escape post]
Whilst researching the prime mechanical focus of the needlework and tailoring trade of NYC during the 20s and 30s lead to the discovery that Isaac Singer- the man who invented and patented the Singer sewing machine we all use today, was in fact a New York immigrant himself- or rather his father was, thereby making him of immigrant descent.
His father arrived 'off the boat' as they say (and still say in the USA) in 1769 from Germany at the young age of 16. His father's arrival into New York predates that of the 'Great Wave' of immigrants in the 20th Century, however, this is an arguement for a separate post, perhaps even essay. Nonetheless, both his father and his son hel the status of immigrants.
The website where this infomation is being gleaned from makes the comment that although his father came to America in search of the mythical 'Dream', it was his son, it was the second generation that managed to achieve it.
[sudden flashbacks to Derrida in Dissemination prompt me to googlebook search and rediscover~remind the following:
This bridge, this hyphen, this link, this connection, this thread from unravelling intellectual spools wrapped round my little finger, could provide an interesting parallel or historic allegory between Father/Son~Speech/Writing~Father Singer/Son Singer~First/Second Generation~Following the Dream/Living the Dream~ Dreamer/Earner etc.
I wonder how Son Singer- Isaac- felt about his immigrant past? Did his father want him to achieve great things? Pushed to be an inventor? To what extent, extentuation of my flights of yarn in contextual weaving, are able to 'tie-up' and 'tie-down' these ideas? To what extent did Isaac's father influence his decisions? To what extent did Isaac live out his father's "failure"? To what extent do all immigrant generations reflect themselves and long and strive to break through the mirrors of the past, strapped haphazardly to their backs?]
What is even more remarkable and extrordinary is that the Statue of Liberty herself is actually modeled on one of Isaac's wives: supposedly one of the most beautiful women in the world of the 19th Century, Isaac's half-French actress Isobel although most accounts will say that it's based on Batholdi/The Architect's mother...
Be that as it may, what is also of note about Isaac, was his [in]ability to read and write:
Singer had recieved a poor education, which was mainly in the winter at a local school. The writing above shows how much trouble he had later on in his life attempting to write even simple sentences .
However, here at NewWorld PerformanceWriting, this is exactly what we question, examine and offer interpretive answers to, to open and unpack the text from the work, from the man himself and back again.
Having bought a 'manuscript book' [see Supplies post] with specially lined pages for school children to learn cursive handwritting , instantly sends me back to an old time which was then the most new time, which was learning to write in English for the first time. Having already learned to speak at a high level of fluency and pronunciation, I was astounded at how difficult it was for me to write in this secondary, imposed language so similar and yet so different to Spanish. This 'problems' persisted well into my adolescent education, often with family and teachers pointing out the 'hispanic traces' within my writing; the extrenuous 'c' [something I still do often writing 'scentence' or 'reccomendation', 'acction']
Again, Derrida's cold hand rises from his deconstructed grave to point me back to his work in order to go forwards - maybe. Whilst the ability to write was secondary to me, it would seem those in second place always work harder to rise to the top most podium. Within a few weeks of constant daily cursive excercise at home at school at the dinner table in my bedroom on the bathroom floor, the ability to manipulate my handwriting to the conformity of the lines was mastered. Oh the irony now, that, though my ability to remember and re-write in American English (for several reasons, most notably for 'ease of understanding'- something to be discussed at a later date) that now I have trouble losing (at times, and at different levels of inebriation, not to mention the company being kept) my 'Anglo-phonetic-traces'!
Is it always easier to 'disguise' your ethnic and national identity in the written form than the spoken? Or is it all merely a matter of 'practice makes you look and sound perfect'
So returning to the subject of the performance- one needs to borrow a sewing machine and practice practice practice in 'becoming' this immigrant tailor (woman? Butler's been making me practice being feminine again).
Concept- simple: I wash and mend the audiences clothes. However, given the nature of my own lax ability at the Sewing Machine (I took my test a few years back, in a world I hope never to return to) and the amount of clothes and state of repair, will produce experimental stitches of every kind... from the clothes and the rails and the washing lines, a vast immersive, clostraphobic nest will be built from the various fabrics which I will hang all around me and my low-lit work- burning the midnight oil, she used to say and of which I am doing now as I type. Albeit the oil is now constant electric dreams of bulbs lasting forever until the bulb company withdrew the secret...
Whilst researching the prime mechanical focus of the needlework and tailoring trade of NYC during the 20s and 30s lead to the discovery that Isaac Singer- the man who invented and patented the Singer sewing machine we all use today, was in fact a New York immigrant himself- or rather his father was, thereby making him of immigrant descent.
His father arrived 'off the boat' as they say (and still say in the USA) in 1769 from Germany at the young age of 16. His father's arrival into New York predates that of the 'Great Wave' of immigrants in the 20th Century, however, this is an arguement for a separate post, perhaps even essay. Nonetheless, both his father and his son hel the status of immigrants.
The website where this infomation is being gleaned from makes the comment that although his father came to America in search of the mythical 'Dream', it was his son, it was the second generation that managed to achieve it.
[sudden flashbacks to Derrida in Dissemination prompt me to googlebook search and rediscover~remind the following:
"But what is a father?[...]One would understand or imagine a standpoint of a domain foreign to it, the transmission of life of the generative relation. But the father is not the generator or procreator in any "real" sense prior to or outside all relation to language."(J. Derrida, 2004, Contiuum Press, trans. Barbara Johnson.)
This bridge, this hyphen, this link, this connection, this thread from unravelling intellectual spools wrapped round my little finger, could provide an interesting parallel or historic allegory between Father/Son~Speech/Writing~Father Singer/Son Singer~First/Second Generation~Following the Dream/Living the Dream~ Dreamer/Earner etc.
I wonder how Son Singer- Isaac- felt about his immigrant past? Did his father want him to achieve great things? Pushed to be an inventor? To what extent, extentuation of my flights of yarn in contextual weaving, are able to 'tie-up' and 'tie-down' these ideas? To what extent did Isaac's father influence his decisions? To what extent did Isaac live out his father's "failure"? To what extent do all immigrant generations reflect themselves and long and strive to break through the mirrors of the past, strapped haphazardly to their backs?]
What is even more remarkable and extrordinary is that the Statue of Liberty herself is actually modeled on one of Isaac's wives: supposedly one of the most beautiful women in the world of the 19th Century, Isaac's half-French actress Isobel although most accounts will say that it's based on Batholdi/The Architect's mother...
Be that as it may, what is also of note about Isaac, was his [in]ability to read and write:
Singer had recieved a poor education, which was mainly in the winter at a local school. The writing above shows how much trouble he had later on in his life attempting to write even simple sentences .
However, here at NewWorld PerformanceWriting, this is exactly what we question, examine and offer interpretive answers to, to open and unpack the text from the work, from the man himself and back again.
Having bought a 'manuscript book' [see Supplies post] with specially lined pages for school children to learn cursive handwritting , instantly sends me back to an old time which was then the most new time, which was learning to write in English for the first time. Having already learned to speak at a high level of fluency and pronunciation, I was astounded at how difficult it was for me to write in this secondary, imposed language so similar and yet so different to Spanish. This 'problems' persisted well into my adolescent education, often with family and teachers pointing out the 'hispanic traces' within my writing; the extrenuous 'c' [something I still do often writing 'scentence' or 'reccomendation', 'acction']
Again, Derrida's cold hand rises from his deconstructed grave to point me back to his work in order to go forwards - maybe. Whilst the ability to write was secondary to me, it would seem those in second place always work harder to rise to the top most podium. Within a few weeks of constant daily cursive excercise at home at school at the dinner table in my bedroom on the bathroom floor, the ability to manipulate my handwriting to the conformity of the lines was mastered. Oh the irony now, that, though my ability to remember and re-write in American English (for several reasons, most notably for 'ease of understanding'- something to be discussed at a later date) that now I have trouble losing (at times, and at different levels of inebriation, not to mention the company being kept) my 'Anglo-phonetic-traces'!
Is it always easier to 'disguise' your ethnic and national identity in the written form than the spoken? Or is it all merely a matter of 'practice makes you look and sound perfect'
So returning to the subject of the performance- one needs to borrow a sewing machine and practice practice practice in 'becoming' this immigrant tailor (woman? Butler's been making me practice being feminine again).
Concept- simple: I wash and mend the audiences clothes. However, given the nature of my own lax ability at the Sewing Machine (I took my test a few years back, in a world I hope never to return to) and the amount of clothes and state of repair, will produce experimental stitches of every kind... from the clothes and the rails and the washing lines, a vast immersive, clostraphobic nest will be built from the various fabrics which I will hang all around me and my low-lit work- burning the midnight oil, she used to say and of which I am doing now as I type. Albeit the oil is now constant electric dreams of bulbs lasting forever until the bulb company withdrew the secret...
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