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“I bring him apples and cheeses, he brings me songs to play.” |
21 March, 2015
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“You and me babe, how about it.” |
Blood on the Page . . .
A reading last night of my new play: “SEX or Ode to the Hypocrisy of the Rainbow Nation.” A quiet esteemed group of actors, directors, theatre makers all gathered at my house to read, eat, and discuss.
Lots of people that came loved it – they hadn’t seen a process like this, where a writer opens up the work so early to dialogue. People were brilliant in their insight: they know me and let me have it.
I walk away bruised and battered (as usual) although heartened by the sense of community. The biggest critique being that I am now a technically excellent writer – “very clever” people said, but they miss me in my writing – Where am I? What am I risking? Where is my heart?
“Where’s the blood on the page” a friend says to me the morning after. And I’m kind of shocked – in many ways I feel like I live so openly and honesty, although from this reading I realize, maybe I am open to others, but maybe I risk less now of showing myself. Hurt, burned, perhaps I’ve retreated. Another friend says “yes, it’s like the shutters go up, you do that very quickly.” I didn’t realize.
I’m challenged to open back up – to put myself out there again in my work. Damn, this writer life is something else. I never knew it would challenge my personal issues so directly. Blood on the page . . . .
14 March, 2015
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“Healing begins where the wound was made.” |
7 March, 2015
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“You go down to the pick up station craving warmth and beauty. You settle for less than fascination, a few drinks later you’re not so choosy.” |
28 February, 2015
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“To be an artist is to believe in life.” |
Back from the FESPACO Film Festival
Just back from a week at FESPACO – the largest film festival on the continent held in Burkina Faso every two years. I went with two friends, Saheed and Judith, and we snaked our way up through Ethiopia, stopping in Niger, then arriving Ouagadougou.
I didn’t expect what I found there. A film about a Senegalese family torn between Italy, the US, and back home – halfway through the film I can’t breath, gasping at a sense of my own dislocation. Another film, the story of a young boy who in the fervor the Marxist revolution in Burkina Faso dresses up as a super hero and believes he’s invincible – until he learns the bullets don’t discriminate and I connect back with my own boyhood dreams and realize how many lay in shreds. Another film, a young man on the run for murder, cycling through his past lives – apprentice to a rainmaker, money collector for a fat woman freak show, leader of a revolutionary youth group, and as I walk out of the theatre I’m crying as I remember all the lives I’ve lived and how they make no sense – magic show cult member, rancher/farmer, civil rights activist, mining executive, writer lost in the deep crevices of race – and yet all of these lives are me and I need a way to cycle back through, just like the man in the film.
I went to FESPACO once before, and I go to the movies often, but this experience was different. Maybe it was being with friends: hours in the queues, talking through the films, discovering together. Or maybe it’s the place I’m at in life: desperate for stories to make sense of my reality. In any case I know I found my heart, in perhaps the most unlikely place, the deserts of Burkina Faso.
Peace and love, Alex
Favorite FESPACO Films 2015
Here are five of my favorite films from FESPACO 2015 – the biennial African Film Festival that takes place in Burkina Faso each year. Just came back from a week of viewing, and my heart is full.
1. Run – by Philippe LaCote (Ivory Coast)
An Ivorian man kills the prime minister and journeys backwards through his lives that brought him there.
Love for its surrealism, humor, and bravery.
2. C’est Eux Les Chiens (They are the Dogs)– by Hisham Lasri (Morocco)
A man released from prison after 20 years finds himself disoriented in the middle of the Arab Springs ,while all he really wants is to find his wife and child.
Love for its extraordinary camerawork and brilliantly told story
3. Timbuktu – by Abderrahmane Sissako (Mauritania)
Jihadists arrive in Northern Mali and cause a rupture the cannot heal.
Love for its the moments of beauty, cruelty, and humor that only Sissako can capture.
4. Des Etoiles (Under the Starry Sky) – by Dyana Gaye (Senegal)
Intersecting stories of African displacement in Senegal, Italy, and the USA.
Love for its beauty and immense suffering captured all at once.
5. Twaaga – by Cedric Ido (Burkina Faso)
At the dawn of Burkina Faso’s Marxist revolution, a young boy believes he has captured the power of a super hero.
Love for its sense of wonder and complexity . . . .
21 February, 2015
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“Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.”
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Master Writing Class Finished
For 5 weeks I have hosted a group of 10 writers at my house, teaching a Writing Master Class. The class was mostly professionals in the industry, an amazing group – sometimes things just work.
Each week we’d read, theorize, do exercises, and discuss a new topic: Structure, Tension, Character, Language. The class was so smart that we’d quickly jump to the next level of complexity: Yes, we get 3 act structure, but how do African story forms pull against this? What are the alternatives to heavily Judeo-Christian moral resolutions?; What ways can we break apart language, departing from a heavy tradition of naturalism in South African theatre, to speak about our fractured, post-apartheid lives?
Perhaps most striking from the group was that we created a community of writers/artists who share the similar values and now a common language. A diverse group: Nigerian, Zambian, British, Congolese, American, South African – yet connected by a desire for new and fresh art – to break out of our cages. We’ll keep meeting. Watch this space.