As loath as I am to admit that anyone in this group has impressed me…I admit that I have been slightly impressed.
The Ode to the Stainless Steel Marine Welding that we had performed live the other week was initially disappointing. Why base an epic poem around such a dull topic? And yet, as great artists like me often are, I found myself tormented and inspired by the words, lying awake at night, thinking about marine welding and fishing rod holders. A life on the sea is a solitary existence. Something about the strong, evocative language just captured my soul and held it to random, unless I came down to the docks at night, unarmed, alone.
And so that is what I did. I went for a wander to the place where marine fabrication is created, and I wandered among the plate alloy boats with a sense of quiet reverence. I drank in the gigantic welding equipment, ran my hand along the rough wood of the docks, and was told to move on by a security guard who I’m sure was just doing their job.
Still, I was deeply inspired. Inspired enough…for a dance. I know I’m in a writing club, but as you see, dancing is like writing…with the body. Not many people know that, but I just told you, and now everyone at the Writer’s Group knows as well. For eleven minutes I had them spellbound with my rhythmic depiction of marine welding and snapper rack placement. I was too wrapped up in the performance to be paying much attention to my audience, so I’m not entirely sure of their reaction. At the end of the eleven minutes I was met with a barrage of harsh criticism, which made it clear that they didn’t understand the art form. Not that I expected anything more from this bunch. I could *clearly* make the motions of crafting a plate alloy boat, and they still wouldn’t understand. I know it’s interpretive dance, but it’s not THAT interpretive.