waiting and waiting

Project Notes:

The site that I chose for my performance at the Waterloo Center for the Arts was on the walkway along the edge of the Cedar River. To reach the performance, the audience came through the art center to the outdoor terrace overlooking the river, and then down a flight of stairs to the platform at the water’s edge.

The audience came out of the art center and down the stairs at 7 pm, expecting to find me. What they discovered instead were two empty chairs facing the water, in mounds of dead leaves.

They waited.

Some people stood along the terrace. Some sat on the stairs, looking out over the water. Others, who were eager to for something to happen, began to play in the leaves, moving the chairs or sitting on them. But I wasn’t there. I wasn’t hidden under the leaves.

They continued to wait.

Meanwhile, the lights across the river shimmered on the water. The air was clear, and the wind was cold.

Eventually, in the distance, far along on the path by the water, I appeared, slowly approaching.

Some of the audience ran to me, carrying armloads of leaves that they heaped around my feet, some stood still when I paused, and watched the river with me, others walked with me to the chairs.

I sat down in one of the chairs, watching the river flow past.

Someone joined me, sitting in the other chair.

I waited.
Patiently.

And when the person became still, I asked, “Have you ever waited for someone who isn’t coming back?”
And we talked. Later, with others who sat with me, I simply asked “Are you waiting?”

And so I had many conversations about waiting – waiting for lovers, waiting to finish school, waiting to leave, waiting for a new life to begin – many different kinds of waiting, depending on age or ambition or desire.

As we talked we watched the river moving slowly past us, gazed at the reflections of the lights across the water converging at our feet.