today...
the first visual/sound experience went well. In the begining I had to fight my technological ignorance and overcome some difficulties with the projectors, computers, dvds and cables. One important thing I learned: projection is different from paper in many aspects but one really important is that the white background is not "transparent" but the black!!!!! My graphic design experience misled me into thinking the opposite.....
As the light outside faded into darkness the images inside became clearer. At this point - the begining of the visual development - I worked only with projections, testing different scales, paces, overlapping and distances, however the space was naked, filled with its mute white walls. This screamed at me, the absence of my hand (or anybody's hand) on the wall brought an akward raw visual sensation. The problem was that it was not white by choice of visual communication, it was white from lack of preparation. This white, the careless abandoned white bothered me. And yet it was good that it bothered me. It was good, for now I have decided on textures, layers, tangible fillings to the space is something I want to include in my work. I already knew this but I got carried away with the novelty, the surprise of new discoveries - natural, since working with video is new to my practice. I want to phisically transform space and use video to expand and involve the other senses.
Textures, fabrics, layers, mirrors and concrete words in space have become the second step.

voices
the overlapping of voices - spoken text - on space, the landscape of tones, sounds and pauses can be taken further. They create a new space I would like to investigate. These are also included in the idea of layers, in another sense.
The way it worked was: Lizzy read part of the story, which gives an idea of what goes on in the second part. At this moment the only projections are a street scene, the frying of an egg and details of a house. All these images are presented in the text as well. Then: a blind man chewing gum, a sudden stop of the bus and finally breaking eggs lead the narrative, as if we were in the characters head, into a change of perception, which is portrayed through the projection of words over the previous projections and the overlapping of voices and languages.

space
one thing I noticed through this process is the importance of recreating and transforming the whole space. Today I only used one corner of the room and for the video documental recording could look interesting, however the feeling of the performance did not invite the viewer to the fullest.

There is lots more to write, however, the lived experience has to settle down and enable my words to embrace it. Then, and only then, will they be my lived experience, through my words for sharing.... with that, I postpone any further analysis for tomorrow.

I will drop here the text I used for this work in the same way as it was used. The original text is longer, greater, full of details, descriptions and complex ideas. This one is a colage of bits and pieces which provide an introduction to the idea of the performance. It was translated in order to adapt my purposes in a way that it cannot be seen as a translation of the original, but more as an interpretation. The name of the tale is "Love" by the Brazilian writer Clarice Lispector.

"Her sons were truthfully good. They grew up, bathed, expected all the time more fulfilling moments. She finally had a big kitchen, the broken stove made creaking noises. The heat was very strong in the apartment they were slowly paying off. However, the wind blowing through the curtains she had made reminded her that she could stop and dry her forhead while facing the horizon. Like a farmer. She had planted her seeds, not any others, only these. Trees now grew from them. In the same way her brief conversation with the postman was growing, the water that filled the sink was growing, her sons were growing, the dinner table was growing, her husband arriving with the newspaper and smiling, hungry. She would give her hand out to anything, her chain of life.
Deep down she had always had the need for feeling that things were firmly rooted. This was what Home provided her with. By some strange paths she found herself in a woman’s destiny and it fit her as if she had invented it.
All her vaguely artistic desires were, for a long time now invested in creating beautiful, fulfilling days. In time, her taste for decoration had developed and overcome her intimate disorder. She seemed to have discovered that everything could be worked to perfection. That each thing could be visually harmonic, that life could be handmade by man. Her former youth seemed to her strange as a disease. She had slowly grown to discover that one could also live without happiness, abolishing it. She had discovered a legion of people, who were previously invisible and who lived as one works – with persistence, continuity and joy. Whatever happened to her before this home was out of reach. A disturbing anxiety which sometimes could be mistaken for an unbearable happiness. Instead, she built for herself something she could understand, an adult’s life. This was her choice.
Somewhat tired, on this day, with things she’d bought shaping a fabric, she got on a bus. Resting the bag on her lap as the bus moved she laid back with a half satisfied smile.
The bus slowly moved and stopped again as she spotted a man. The difference between him and the others was that he was actually really still. He stood up with his hands projected forward. He was blind. There was something strange about him... then she realised.... he chewed gum. A blind man chewed gum.
She still had time to stop and think that her brothers were coming over for dinner – her heart beat violently. He chewed in complete darkness. The movement of his chewing made it look as if he was smiling and suddenly not smiling, smiling and then not smiling again. She kept looking at him – suddenly the bus moved, throwing her unexpectedly backwards. The heavy bag fell from her lap onto the ground.
Unable to move and recover her bag she was pale and an imcomprehensible, uncertain expression, long time forgotten, took over her face. The eggs had broken.
It suddently seemed to her like people stood barely balancing over darkness – and for one moment a lack of direction could make them so free that they would not know where to go. Noticing this absense of law was so sudden the she held on to the front seat as if she would fall off the bus, as if things could be inverted in the same peaceful manner as they were not."