'I Don't know why...'

The Ladies and J. Graves are talkin' paint in the front office, Sergia prepares backstage in the mural room and I'm filling in the 'Google profile' of Highway's with a hog-tied Greggy AKA DANCEGOODDAMNIT!!!  (Rosie enters the scene, the social cat and tongue exhibitionist of 18th Street, we all focus on the 'feeding her' debate. )

Tonight marks the second performance of I Didn't Cry- the one-woman show based on Sergia's sister--falling in love, growing up fast and dying young at the hands of the AIDS epidemic.

 The show really reminded me why it is so important to remember history-- to hold as a foundational element of action- present and future.

  As I am researching and speaking with directors and artists involved with the AIDS Floor here at Highways, sadness strikes, genuinely, for the first time. Like a slap in the face, from the last moments of Sergia's Piece, I feel this awful sickness.

   Fighting for those lost with acts of art, storytelling, demonstrating,  The Floor  breaths like a character always present in the space.  

I'm creating a piece to remember this creation as the formative presence it was and is. I'm hoping this can be like a leaf for the floor's roots- so visitors can breath it in.

Time to go fold some programs, welcome the evening with the orange sky. Intimacy-- birthing from the red-walled, light strung lobby--promises mysterious textures for the coming hours...