Performance is identified as ephemeral, momentarily in its make-up, often performed “for one Night Only” a “One Off.”
“You just had to be there” is often the tag line that is uttered as announcement to those who had missed out on ‘being there’ as a first hand witness.
I am rarely a witness I’m often the perpetrator, the activist being witnessed in acts of momentary living.
The annuals of witness accounts is a growth industry, there are probably more witnesses than perpetrators and the perpetrators are gagging to be written about, to be realised, to be immortalised in academic jingo, to be stitched and bound in doctorates and hard back illustrated books, that stack the cyber shelves of Amazon.com.
Perhaps they are post cards of ‘wish you were here’.
Perhaps they are stories that never would happen.
Perhaps they are words of transportation.
Perhaps they are recipes to assist in the making of beautiful meals.
Perhaps they act as birth certificates to actualise and recognise existence.
Perhaps they are sermons of the unimaginable imagined.
Perhaps they help us to understand.
Perhaps they are manuals for how to remember.
How do we remember?
What do we need to remember?
Who is remembering for us?