Ridiculous

I've been working on a project for the past three months that currently leaves me feeling utterly ridiculous. And I don't mean ridiculous in the comical sense. No. I feel ridiculous in the fully absurd, awkward, inadequate, open to derision sense of it. The only comfort I can take is that this has nothing to do with my thesis (which is moving forward slowly only because life keeps intervening). This feeling is a good thing. Even though it puts me in a I-wanna-lay-down-and-die- rather-than-work-on-this mode, at least I'm out of my comfort zone, eh?

Things started out well enough. It seemed like a simple project. Then after completing it to the level I wanted, I felt that more was required, so I plunged in. Having taken the plunge, I realized, "okay, this is huge and now there's no turning back." And there is a self-imposed deadline - well not entirely, it's for an event outside of my control. I'm okay with deadlines. I think deadlines are necessary. Unless, I go down I'd-rather-lay-down-and-die-etc tunnel - but all of this avoids the real issue.

The Audience. I know the audience. A group of people quite dear to me, hence the inspiration for the project. The ridiculousness comes in when I think about their response. In my mind, the spectrum for response runs somewhere between that awkward, uneasy feeling you get when Annie Wilkes (Kathy Bates) tells Paul Sheldon (James Caan) that she's his number one fan -



- to that sublime, exhilarating feeling you get from seeing the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies in Mark Morris Dance Company's The Hard Nut -



- or watching the snow fall in Hirokazu Kore-eda's film After Life.



But then who am I to second guess my audience? Who am I to have their reaction for them?

I haven't felt like this since I created a piece called ElectrOphelia and for a long time had absolutely no idea of what I was doing. It's good to be back in this spot, but working alone there's no one to share the terror with.