Monday, October 21, 2019

DUNG BEETLE

DUNG BEETLE
          
I first met my friend the Dung-beetle in Edmonton Canada, 
at the annual Edmonton International Street Performance Festival.
                   
I could go on at length about Shelley, it's director and the ear to the ground
casting that see's ten days of set piece and roving and amalgams of each, 
pepper a huge downtown outdoor plaza artfully
and I could also go on about it's creator Dick Finkle and the culture he created
wherein lonely performance eccentrics were showered with 
respect and coddled 
in a language they understood 
and luxury they were not used to, 
[although everyone pretended it was normal] 
wherein they were flown, 
put up at the Sheraton and scheduled in front 
of active curious Canadians, 
to ply their studied performance affectations for donations.
                   
Because I'm all about the Dung-beetle, those other things can wait.
                   
Sometimes, very rare, you find someone who's applied whimsy 
is a form of magic.
                   
The dung-beetle was a character who existed for 10 days, 
he dressed as a bug. 
He had antenna and looked like a featherweight bumblebee. 
For ten days he pushed his ball, a 5 foot ball covered in 
layers of post-it notes. 
The notes read, 'rent due' 'my husband doesn't love me, 
'My milk went off' 
"I'm socially awkward'.
                   
He would have post-it note pads, stuck to the front of his costume 
and for ten days introduce himself.
"Hi, I'm a dung beetle, I collect [sotto] shit."
"Here's a pen, heres a post-it, write down the shit in your life 
and I'll add it to my ball."
So it went for ten days, the ball got bigger and bigger, cumulative 'shit'
That was the Dung-beetles role..
It was an all weather role, if it rained and most of the other performers 
deferred the Dung-beetle would be one of the few 
pushing his ball and stopping people wearing raincoats 
to explain himself.
                   
It rained a little more, mud pools formed, the Dung- beetle 
was in his element.
                   
"I'm a dung-beetle!", he would exclaim before belly- flopping muddily. 
through puddles triumphantly.
He had found a unique place in the performance eco- system.
                   
resilient, reflective, whimsical and deep, 
he existed to collect shit and celebrate that.
Truly a mastermind.
                   
We talked, the next year he took my idea of pedestrian crossing theatre 
as we had first practiced it in NZ and had created, 
'Moses, the crossing guard'.
But that's another story.

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