 What kind of person will a horse talk to? Is there a way for me to become that kind of person? |  |
In May, just as we were asking ourselves these very questions, Piehole was invited to perform a short piece at what turned out to be perhaps the final installment of Ben Gansky's Cloud-City-dwelling performance series, new skin for the old ceremony--a title which cleverly must be in quotes or italic or bold or a different font because of its lack of capital letters.
Around that time we couldn't stop referencing a running joke we had about a satirical theater company, whose members were very similar to us in many respects, only with slightly less self-awareness and a slightly bigger budget. We joked that they were in an endless development cycle with their opus, an avant garde adaptation of 50s sitcom/grotesque mirror of sociopolitical neuroses Mister Ed. I think you know the show. A horse is a horse.
So when we set out to make something new for new skin it became obvious to us that the clearest, most interesting challenge in our sights was to create a rigorously pursued, deeply felt piece based on an off-the-cuff lampoon of ourselves and our artistic community. i.e. Guys, what if we did the joke for real? So we did.
Trying to Get the Horse to Talk (, or, It's Bigger Than the Both of Us) is an indefinite work in progress. An excerpt was shown at what turned out to be perhaps the final installment of Ben Gansky's Cloud-City-dwelling performance series, new skin for the old ceremony--a title which shrewdly must be in italic or bold or a different color because of its lack of capital letters.
Around that time we couldn't stop referencing a running joke we had about a satirical theater company, whose members were very similar to us in many respects, only with slightly less self-awareness and a slightly bigger budget. We joked that they were in an endless development cycle with their opus, an avant garde adaptation of 50s sitcom/grotesque mirror of sociopolitical neuroses Mister Ed. I think you know the show. A horse is a horse.
So when we set out to make something new for new skin it became obvious to us that the clearest, most interesting challenge in our sights was to create a rigorously pursued, deeply felt piece based on an off-the-cuff lampoon of ourselves and our artistic community. i.e. Guys, what if we did the joke for real? So we did.
Trying to Get the Horse to Talk (, or, It's Bigger Than the Both of Us) is an indefinite work in progress. An excerpt was shown at what turned out to be perhaps the final installment of Ben Gansky's Cloud-City-dwelling performance series, new skin for the old ceremony--a title which shrewdly must be in italic or bold or a different color because of its lack of capital letters.
We watched a lot of Mister Ed on the internet. We read titles and summaries of every episode on the internet. We made up fake episodes. We titled and summarized them. We bought a memoir by the comedian who played Wilbur on the internet. He felt he did not get along with the cowboy who did Ed's voice who went by Rocky. He felt he got along very well with the horse who played Ed who went by Bamboo Harvester. They had a connection. We read about the ways the crew of Mister Ed got the horse to talk on the internet. We bought a horse head mask on the internet. We tried to get it to talk.
If you were there you know whether or not it talked.
(Please let us know.)
And stay tuned out there in there Theater Land. Because the joke has swallowed us whole.
Performers: (ordered as pictured) Emilie Soffe, Alexandra Panzer, Jeff Wood, Ed, Benoit Johnson.
If you were there you know whether or not it talked.
(Please let us know.)
And stay tuned out there in there Theater Land. Because the joke has swallowed us whole.
Performers: (ordered as pictured) Emilie Soffe, Alexandra Panzer, Jeff Wood, Ed, Benoit Johnson.
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