amchok gompo dhondup

hey,

amchok gompo dhondup is such a good sounding name, don't you think? say it aloud and your mouth suddenly feels better, all those nice round 'o' tones opening everything up. anyways, he was at the AGH performing a concert of his original songs, based on the Tibetan folk music tradition into which he was born and raised, and took an interest in the structure. i wasn't free to come down, but i gave him permission to enter and use the monotheatrum as he saw fit. i still don't know what exactly occurred, but did receive the following picture.
this is exactly the kind of behavior i want the monotheatrum to encourage. in fact, during the final weekend at the AGH, i will attempt to open the structure up to any musicians or performers who would like to keep it activated. if you are such a performer, and have some time this september 5, 6, or 7, do let me know.

cheers
t

holy jeez, i forgot to post

wow,
august 5 already, about a month left before the monotheatrum gets packed away, before the urban moorings exhibition gets dry-docked (i have included a picture of the Viking Soliloquy Chair, now floating in Hamilton's Cootes Paradise as an enticement to you). All this, and still i haven't bothered to mention what a great performance night we had June 5 at the AGH. Singer songwriter Jacob Moon, soprano Lindsay Michaels each took turns within the structure, while a receptive audience tried to make sense of it from the outside. It turned out that the monotheatrum was far more obtrusive than even I had thought it would be; you can't just hold in your mind the belief that the audience is there, you can't turn the audience into an abstract idea because the proximity between them and you is way too close. Inevitably you are caught between the spheres of public and private, and to peform becomes something similar to a leap of faith.

Here's what Jacob Moon wrote about his experience:

"For me the Monotheatrum was the ideal practice space: a womb-like enclosure that blocked out the outside world, so hostile to creative concentration with all its moving distractions and pretty colours. Inside, I was aware only of the sound I was making. And I found myself luxuriating and crawling into it, like a Russian doll: it was just me, inside the sound of my voice and guitar, inside the vaguely imagined outer atmosphere, where I knew there was an attentive silence, and beyond--the hearts and minds of the almost-forgotten audience. But what a long distance they seemed to be from me!"