Jamie/Kate Solo-J's Response

As I got my family ready to head over to the park to watch my solo dance performed by Kate Wallich, I started to wonder what themes Kate could possibly have picked up on from the questionaire I had filled out
weeks ago. I had told some friends about the performance, and a courageous few braved the rain to turn out and watch. As my family and I ate peanut butter sandwiches in our van parked accross from the park, I saw two people approach with a green arm chair hoisted in the air. We went over and I introduced myself. The chair was for me, she said. She handed me a camera, saying there was no film in it, but I might want to watch the performance through that lens. I held the camera up to my eye and looked at this dancer. She wore a dress, a jacket, a scarf, black boots, a hat and a purse. I looked down and noticed that I, too, wore a dress, a jacket, a scarf, black boots, and a hat. (I had left my purse in the van.) I had no idea what to expect. Suddenly the rain stopped. "Ok, well, we might as well get started." Kate walked up to the little merry-go-round and began to laboriously push it, around and around and around, wearing an ever deepening circular track around the thing. At moments she would reach up towards the sky, collapse onto the merry-go-round-- struggle against it, and ultimately, return to pushing it round and round. At one point she pulled her hat down over her eyes and began bobbing her head up and down like a bobble head doll. "Put your shoes on. Put your shoes on. Put your shoes on." That was me. Me the bobble head doll, pushing my life around and around and around-- struggling and stuck and bound and reaching all at the same time. Me home with my children, . I felt vulnerable and exposed-- what was everyone else thinking of this? Can they all see my psychic pain being acted out here in this public park? I mean, this was all so PERSONAL, and so private, I thought. I think what struck me was the way Kate used her arms-- at one moment strong and forceful, the next fragile and reaching and then exhausted and limp. She was beautiful up there-- pushing and stopping and starting again, dancing me there on this merry go round. This children's park, with my children there next to her, playing oblivious on the swings, on the climber, my husband oblivious sometimes watching, sometimes negotiating the play problems of the kids.

I felt part of this piece as viewer, watching in my arm chair, with my camera, just one of many lenses through which to view this piece. Later, my friend Amy mentioned that she enjoyed watching me watch the piece. I felt a bit depressed, watching her up there-- I felt a bit Sylvia Plath-- looked around in case she had stashed a little toy oven for the end of the piece-- but thankfully, no oven in sight. Kate had captured a part of me not usually on display, and projected it onto this setting, reflecting this part of me back to me. I am definitely changed by this experience-- I have been thinking about my world differently now. Art really can be a transformative experience-- imagine that!

-Jamie Katz