Sunday, January 30 Beet painting performance on frozen Lake Michigan at Pratt, 5:00 pm. What happened was that I dressed in white and took a spray bottle of beet juice to the beach. I walked out onto the ice and found a nice patch of snow. I began by spraying a circle of beet juice around my feet. Then I sprayed my feet and the bottoms of my pants, and kept spraying from the bottom up until I reached my waist and ran out of beet juice.

From the description above, I’m sure you can see why the cops needed to stop me IMMEDIATELY.

But actually tonight’s first audience member was not a cop. He was a young man trying to keep from slipping on the ice with his big yellow dog. When he was done with that he walked back up the beach to the place where a squad car had just pulled up. I distinctly heard him tell the cops: “that guy has a can of gasoline and definitely a lighter.”

I am absolutely fascinated by the narrative he created from what he saw: young white [man] walks out onto the frozen lake to douse self in gasoline and possibly ignite self. Do not investigate—alert police.

In what world is this scenario the first thing you imagine? Is it possible that I looked suicidal?

So the cops walked down to the edge of the ice. We had to yell to each other.

Cop: Hey, Buddy. (they think I’m a guy.)
NG: Hi!
Cop: What are you doing?
NG: I’m making a painting.
Cop: What you got there?
NG: It’s beet juice.
Cop: What’s in your left hand?
NG: It’s a camera. (I hold it up for him to see.)
Cop: Do you live around here?
NG: Yeah, I live right up the street.
Cop: What’s going on?
NG: I’m an artist. I’m making kind of an experiment. I wanted to see what the beet juice would look like on the snow. Did that guy tell you I had gasoline?
Cop: He didn’t know what you had. Are you aware that what you’re doing does not look normal?
NG: Yeah, I know.

They went back to their squad car but stayed parked in front of me and I continued spraying and documenting. When I was done I decided to talk to them about it. I approached the open passenger window of the car.

NG: Hey. Listen, I wasn’t trying to freak anybody out. I just wanted to see what this would look like.
Cops: Okay. So what have you got in the bottle there?
NG: Beet juice.
Cops: You just squeeze the beets at home and bring it over?
NG: Yeah, I have a juicer and then I strained the juice through a coffee filter so it wouldn’t clog the sprayer.
Cops: Now why did you spray your pants?
NG: Well, I was thinking about what would happen if you stood in a pool of something, you know, and it kind of soaked up from the bottom.
Cops: Oh, so that’s the concept.
NG: Yeah.
Cops: All right, well, we thought maybe you were in trouble.
NG: I understand. Well, have a good night.
Cops: Have a good one.

I almost said, see you later, because honestly I probably will.

For a minute I felt a little sorry for myself like, how come I’m not performing for anyone besides the cops? But when I thought about it more, maybe to a certain extent this year of performances is for Chicago’s finest. During the 1995 heat wave they were, after all, on the front lines: the first people to be called when someone in an SRO suspected their neighbor was dead. They were the ones who found bodies and called paramedics. I need to start talking to them about the heat wave.

Wednesday , January 26 10:30 pm, In One Ear open mike at Heartland Cafe, 7000 N. Glenwood. I named this piece when I performed it in the “16 Assholes” showcase at Curious Theatre but for the life of me I can’t remember what I called it. It’s more story & song than performance poetry.

Speaking of assholes, I know that at least one audience member was listening when I referenced the International Drag King Expo because when it was his turn to get up and make us laugh he announced that all the drag kings he had ever seen looked like Bone Thugs-n-Harmony circa 1995. I don’t really think that’s fair. I would say the proportion of drag kings locked into Bone Thugs-n-Harmony circa 1995 is probably the same as that of the overall human population working this particular style angle. But his joke sort of failed because I’m not sure the audience had seen enough drag kings to even know what he was talking about.

I'd stay in the Garden with Him/ Though the night around me be falling/ But he bids me go/ Through the voice of woe/ His voice to me is calling

And he walks with me/ And he talks with me/ And he tells me I am his own/ And the joy we share as we tarry there/ None other has ever known.

Monday, January 24 12:00 noon, Colonial Chapel, 155th & Harlem, Orland Park IL. I sang "In the Garden" at the funeral of Lucile Kent.

I wanted to sing this song because when my grandmother was in the hospital in May, she and I had done some singing there together. She had sung this song for me, and I was so astounded by what a beautiful voice she had--even lying in a hospital bed.

So when she went in again I brought the lyrics hoping to offer some comfort in the ICU. And even after her stroke she managed to get through the chorus.

I made it almost to the end before tears interrupted me.

Sunday, January 23 United Church of Rogers Park, 12:30 pm, I sang "In the Garden."

I woke up knowing that I needed to perform this hymn once for an audience to see if I was going to be able to get through it without crying before I sang it at my grandmother's funeral. So I went to church.

The United Church of Rogers park is the home base of Insight Arts, so I know Pastor Wendy Hardin and the music director, Mark Bowman. They don't usually see me in Sunday services but were kind enough to let me sing in the space. So after the service, while the Methodist/Muslim dialogue group was gathering at one end of the sanctuary, the interfaith sharing group found each other at another end, and Pastor Wendy greeted congregants, I stepped to the podium, explained what I was doing, and sang the song. It was a little wobbly but I didn't cry, and the audience was very generous.

Saturday , January 22 Poonie's Cabaret "A Snowy Salute to Life" at Links Hall, 10:30 pm. I performed "The Belted Lady."

I admit that during the 2nd wave of blizzard on Saturday afternoon, I began to dread leaving the house. I was convinced that we would have no audience. But actually quite a number of people trudged through unshoveled sidewalks with their six packs to watch the show.

Matthew Hollis was a fabulous host & performer, treating us to hot pants for most of the night.

Friday, January 21 Pratt Beach Snowstorm, 8:00 pm. Wind from the south blew so hard that the beach was covered in the sensual shapes of snow craters. Drifts formed rounded moutnain ranges protecting a valley of bare sand. Katherine requested snow angels which, when created face down, felt like a caress. And they were blown away in an instant.

After a run & dive roll series north along the lake, aiming for patches of snow, I turned back to look for body prints and was momentarily disoriented by the lack of evidence that I had ever been there.

Thursday, January 20 In-class performance during Freshman Seminar at Columbia College taught by writer Barrie Cole. 11:00am.

When Barrie and I decided to do this, a few weeks back, I thought it would be most interesting to explore some of the issues around the 1995 Heat Wave. So my instructions for students who wanted to participate in the performance were this: bring to class a cell phone and the number of a living grandparent. At the time I thought I would call my grandmother Lucile.

What we did was this. Students who had a phone and a grandparent to call sat in a circle facing out. They made their phone calls and talked to their grandparents about whatever they wanted. Meanwhile I used a medical mouth swab to write a text on the chalkboard in water. I wrote that my 90-year-old grandmother had had a stroke the week before and was done talking. I wrote that I had been spending time swabbing her mouth, singing "In the Garden," and reading the 23rd Psalm. An oscillating fan pointed at the chalkboard dried the text. Other students were positioned in an outside circle listening to the conversation(s) of their choice or moving around the room. I had my back to the people talking on the phone but there were some pretty hilarious discussions. I really enjoyed listening to the voices of people talking to their grandparents. The performance lasted 8 minutes and then we discussed our experiences and the HEAT:05 project.

Nicole-
Here is your el performance for January. You can execute it on either your morning or evening commute anytime during the month. Please let me know how it goes.

Make a big peanut butter and banana sandwich. Use LOTS of peanut butter. Start to eat it. Realize how sticky it is in your throat and oops you don't have anything to wash it down. But keep eating it. See if you can get a beverage from someone on the train to help your situation. Keep eating the sandwich. If you finish it, make another. Don't stop until you find someone to give you a beverage. When you get help, give them something from your bag as a token of thanks. That's it. Improvise around it however you want but keep it all very pedestrian, very real. Avoid the presentation of performing. Have fun!

Wednesday, January 19 8:00-9:00 am. Lea Pinsky's public transportation performance assignment #1. See instructions at left.

I sat directly in front of a young man who was shooting a video on the train. There was a dollar bill on the seat I chose. I began making the sandwich on a towel on my lap between the Loyola & Granville stops. By Argyle the sandwich was made. I ate the sandwich as the train got more and more crowded. By Belmont I needed a drink. I was fully prepared to ask all of my fellow commuters for a drink. I was scoping people carrying coffee cups. I was ready to cause a bit of a stir.

But I started with the man sitting in the seat next to me, reading a book. I think I just said, "excuse me, do you have anything I could drink?" He didn't really bat an eye. He just reached into his backpack and handed me his half-empty water bottle. I drank from it and gave it back to him. Only AFTER I had finished my sip did he say, "as long as you're not sick. " I said I wasn't, and thanked him. I offered him a piece of gum from my bag but he was set for gum. We both got off at Harrison.

I would have bet $100 no stranger would let me drink from their beverage on the train. I was totally stunned that this man gave me a sip of his water. I wanted to laugh, or maybe cry.

like working oil into an opal, I will massage the places where your life resides.