3 Reviews from the 2014 Fusebox Festival
by David Glen Robinson

Computer Simulation of the Ocean
by Steve Moore, Physical Plant Theatre

In an interview on the Fusebox website, playwright Steve Moore, who shovels the coal into the boilers down at the Physical Plant Theatre, said that he always thought that texting had potential to make good theatre. What? Yes, and now we’re into it, in Computer Simulation of the Ocean (CSOTO). It is a performance work entirely in text that will be running for the next six months on the device in your hand. No, really.

It starts off with intrigue and intimacy; character Sarah Boyd texts me asking why I won’t reply to her texts (ha-ha, at the start-up everyone is told that there is no replying to the texts. This creates tension from the git-go). Is it because of her lying? What’s a few deceiving, manipulating, exploiting lies between committed lovers? I don’t recall you asking for honesty and church attendance. Lately, she has been expressing concern about me staying on my meds. Whoa! How did she learn that?

That’s about it so far, but Sarah has begun to allude to new characters. And, yes, this reviewer is hooked by the gills. Anyone who has enjoyed a Physical Plant play may be aware of a little known theatrical quality that Steve Moore has in abundance. The quality is surefootedness. CSOTO may be experimental in the extreme, but Moore knows how to handle all things theatrical and literary. Text subscribers to CSOTO may be assured that they are in for a wild, satisfying, unpredictable ride for the next five and a half months. As of this writing, Physical Plant has room for a few more subscribers; everyone will be caught up quickly.

This Place
by Rosalyn Nasky and Steven Snowden

This Place is our place, every little piece of the human body laid out and made plain. Human energy flows through and around every part of us. This Place, a short but hugely worthy showcase solo by Rosalyn Nasky, is yet another gem in the Fusebox Festival 2014. Nasky does it by show, not tell, a point made with her dry humor and increasing garbled microphone static. With the bits and pieces come allusions to Tesla, Yogic philosophy and Heisenberg.

But at its base the dance is a catalog of body parts not commonly thought of as having much living energy or use in dance, such as fingertips, tufts of hair falling in front of the eyes, or wrists. After an especially contorted sequence of shapes--starting with her double-jointed elbows in full hyperflexion--she lay perfectly still; and the audience saw the intended energetic body part. It was the breath itself, rising and falling in her belly and chest; nothing else was moving in her.

Here is a concern with the breath that rises from the yoga mat to take its place with all the other elements that compose performing art. Nasky’s pieces are always surprising, clear, and never obscure. One perceives exactly what she is trying to convey. When Nasky moves, she reveals her power, meaning that every body part moves to its intended point in space exactly, with no extraneous wobbles. The lesson for the world is that our energy is all we have, really, and we must harbor and apply it more creatively. We, too, can create beauty and art.

Yoga with Adrienne
Blanton Museum of Art, University of Texas

Yoga with Adrienne was a treat that should have been broadcast on CNN. Instead it spread its mats across the floor in the quiet but gigantic Michener collection gallery in UT’s Blanton Museum of Art. Adrienne Mischler teaches a marvelous yoga class every time around, and setting it among world-class art works magnifies the experience. The class I attended was for all levels, and Adrienne’s teaching was careful not to allow us to become overwhelmed in any way by our surroundings. Her instructor’s banter controlled our context. “You got your booty in the air in public? Give it a shake or two to let everyone know you’re here.” Explosive laughter is not controlled breathing, but still it is great for oxygenating the blood.

Adrienne called to us to elevate our hearts. We twisted our spines gallery left then gallery right. My gallery left brought me face-to-face with a huge Frankenthaler hanging next to a well-known Klein. Fun, relaxation, and reflection—the session was all of those things, but we accomplished the rest of our yoga work as well. Warrior was a burning, shaking challenge for me. By the end of the class I was in a blissful reverie, and my bloodstream surged like the river it actually is. I thought of Fusebox’s vision statement, the part about breaking rules and blurring boundaries. This free event, Yoga with Adrienne, did that. It made me feel, or realize after years of practice perhaps, that yoga is an art that happens in the bloodstream. Adrienne waved good-bye to us all and bade us have a great day. Great day? Frankenthaler will never be the same for me.

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2014 Fusebox Festival