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- This just in from CJ Mitchell:
- Consider the knot
The people walked in a line, this made them lose their way. Most of them had only seen the person in front of them. The dream became the place where I could fall. Some people learn to solve the fall by flying, others by letting themselves land and, finding nothing, never dream the fall again. We are finishing finishing. Maybe one of them is a kind of panic which produces wild-eyed blindness. Another is a wistful acknowledgement of the limits we face. We have only come this far thus far and the likelihood that we can see the edge is becoming more and more real.
It is possible that the unknown possibilities—including dizzying brilliance as well as dim disappointment—are blinking out like spent candles. It is in this moment that we, giggling, came upon a plan to tell ourselves everything was still possible. But how do you fool yourselves when even imagination feels bounded by reality, even if that reality is one manufactured by yourselves?
Let us say we have determined that our show is using a central metaphor or analogy or visual image, surely the possible endings must come in line with the trajectory that springs from this central post, this guiding principle. Sophie and I were talking about anchors and how the anchor between us might be activated this leaked into the free-writing I did as part of our trip to the National Gallery. The other as anchor, the anchor as safety as well as burden, something which allows you to take risk while remaining safe, wander while always being able to return home.
The other as facilitator, lift, burden sharing, hinderance, weight, burden, The unit of two as both duality and duplication, divided and combined. The space between us. The holes are the space between, the spot of broken communication. Alone together, never alone, in each others business, never feeling quite right together or apart.
The risk is what? What is the line? What makes the line? How are borders formed? What makes the margins dissolve? What distinguishes one thing from another? Where do I end and you begin? How is the now and when is it later? If this is perfect why should I go on? If I fracture this moment does it increase the pieces of future moments?
How many possible endings? What do I live for —how long do I prepare—if I cannot do it alone can I do it with other people? When does the onflow cease? When is there a pause in the continuum? How can I gain perspective? The more I learn or think about the more that can happen within my experience—the moment I learn about the existence of a new fruit the more likely I am to see it.
And then the landscape becomes more than an idea to me it becomes me as there is no difference between me and idea. In this period of searching for the end everything starts talking to me about it: I was minding my own business with the usual background noise of the morning radio mingling with the usual background reference points located within the performance I am working on when I heard the statement: Rule the World beats The Last Samurai to win the grand national. I didn' tuse it in anyway other than to realise how sensitised I was to listening and processing everything that comes through my ears.
It's sparkling and shimmering. Sometimes it's a trap. A fleeting conversation makes for a long podcast. Or how long is a short one? Chris Goode has a series of them and they are all around an hour long. Here is a link to the conversation between him and me. You might drink it all at once or in several gulps separated in time. However you do it I hope you enjoy being a fly on our wall. We just have to rehearse this little part and then run the whole section that it comes from. We just need to work this middle bit because the built in looseness of it means that we have to know it very well.
Working on it can make it difficult to throw it out later. You might get attached to it. She said you have to have dinner with each other in order to be able to pop in and out of just talking to each other and performing the material. She meant it was hard to say where the parts when we were us performing and parts when we were us performing being just us talking.
The pressure of it, the pressure of the gaze puts us in an it moment. A moment when it might happen, a moment when the material finds its velocity, its time and place—where something takes shape, gathers a weight. A performance needs an audience in order to be a performance. Even an audience of one counts as an audience. As we are both directing and both in it we have no regular audience. This means importing an audience once in a while.
It means bringing in a series of outside eyes. The energy of the gaze is a kind of compression the gives us the right climate in which to work. It gives us a pillowcase for all of these feathers. These feathers turn into birds and fly away. These thoughts lead to other thoughts and this is the way we develop a train of thoughts—that pathway through our possible trajectories helps clarify direction and limit choices.
The reality of sequence or chronology is that it has one kind of grammar in the brain with a kind of dreamlike shorthand of simultaneous knowings and another kind of grammar in the reality outside of our heads which adheres to a kind of linearity associated with speech and writing and the qualities of physical matter. The idea of being hit by a bus vs the actual bus making impact with your own soft body. This is an invitation to sit still and do nothing.
This is an invitation to a workshop. This is an invitation to share silence. This is an invitation to hear about a process. This is an invitation to a performance. This is an invitation to sit together, with intention. This is an invitation to a kind of hovering. This is an invitation to witness and be part of and hear about a private duet that Rajni Shah and Karen Christopher have been engaging in for the past 49 months.
We would like to tell you about it, but the only way we can think of to do this is to invite you inside it. There will be tea and cake. It is free of charge. Please let us know in advance if you are coming. Here is part of the introduction to the event: We will sit with intention.
We will not engage in progress. We will hold still. Stasis, a kind of hovering to let moments catch up and slow down. We will be still and silent. We will not ry to breathe or organise thoughts, we will float we will not identify what is important we will not make decisions we will gently corral out thoughts back to zero when they begin to become productive. We are always trying—in this case we try not to try too hard, a gentle try. Choose one of them to focus on. Let a words associated with your wish standout—just one word. Write the word 3 times in three different ways. How does it appear before you?
This word will help you focus back to neutral when you notice your mind has wandered. It is not neutral of course. So we will endow this word with the power of bringing us back to a beginning.
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Hover at the starting gate. Everything is still possible. Rajni Shah , holding open. In the act of thinking we stumble into more thinking and thinking makes more thinking possible and in the consideration that takes place along a train of thought, new possibilities open up and boundaries fall and bonds are strengthened and action becomes an option. Some things have to be imagined before they can become real. Now that I am 52, a full deck, I am in the least popular age category. Not new young emerging artist nor swaggering favourite nor ageing stalwart who has always been around. Not a misfit nor a member of a reviled or contested group.
No one is afraid of me. Sometimes I am invisible. But I do have a voice. I do have something to show you. I feel an irresistible urge to share. I can make it better. It was always the case that for my success or inclusion I had to rely on the people I know or on people knowing me. People who knew me were willing to support me, to champion my work, to work alongside me.
I never got my best work through auditioning or interviewing. I was invited because someone already knew my work. The work I do is somewhat unassuming. It speaks in a variety of ways. It respects your own contribution to the moment. There is something quite insistent in the focus on a moment, on a series of moments that seem so simple but build and build and, as with a collection of loose twigs somehow coaxed into a nest, suddenly a catastrophic shift occurs and there is a structure arising.
It becomes a foundation on which audience members build their own thoughts. And this is done with others, in the company of others, and these thoughts are strengthening social cooperation as they are thoughts which hatch in collaboration with the whole room and in the presence of a community of people who come together and all look in their own ways in the same direction and ponder meanings without even trying. It is human nature kicking in, triggered by a chain reaction, triggered by the physical acts in front of them performed in their presence and taking place in real time.
So, who is my audience? If collaboration is meant to include multi-vocality it is also engaging a multitude of reception methods and people from many walks of life. If I can appreciate the kind of work that is alien to me and find it interesting in its distance from my own experience then I can become more tolerant of and interested in the people I live in the world with. This makes life better.
This makes me care more. We went to Berlin and Berlin gave us spirals. The progress was this way: The attention and different tensions, a grip and release, a kind of tuning that goes in and out, that gives way and grabs you, it winds up and down, it decays, it leads and leaps, it trembles, it lays down fine, it ambles and asks, it leans down for a closer look, it never returns.
After working from the outside in we decided not to invent a new instrument but simply to misuse an existing one. Boris got a guitar out a baby Taylor and began plucking strings and de-tuning them. And then Sophie and Karen began exclaiming and proclaiming it wonderful. Maybe then in time I may even make a confusion and I could be asked in court to say what you were wearing and I could say that you were wearing a blue Actually and I think this is quite important, the fact that our brains and our memories are not like recording devices, not like film and that that is how we make sometimes significant errors.
You have these little bits and pieces that are occurring in time and then you have the possibility of reconstruction or reactivation, which is they are very, very, very intriguing and by the way, it is extremely economic. Well, and I think this is very important for perception because perception, the way we perceive things has to do with deep learning in the brain and one of my favorite philosophers, who you mentioned a footnote in your most recent book, Maurice Merleau-Ponty talks about perception as something he calls stereotypes and in neuroscience there is a similar idea, which is that the brain also will take in information according to its own expectations.
You know things that have been done in a certain way in life forms and that of course been memorized by the biological systems we inherited. For more context to this residency, see here. You make a seal with an individual or a series of individuals and this seal creates an involuntary contract which writes itself according to the chemistry between you. As you work together in a studio as we have, you sense and test what the rules of this contract are. In this way the working arrangement is much like a particular view of fate or the possibilities that life at large presents.
There are a constellation of prefigurations but there is also a set of variables and those rely on how you manage to use what is there practically and emotionally and magically in front of you. It was hard to say without setting up a model for Lucy—people can only be the way they are—I do find I am a different creature with different people, my palate of responses is calibrated to what I perceive in the action between us.
Lucy and I misunderstood each other several times about very fundamental parts of what we were doing. But taking the long view, our focus was on making material, these moments simply continued to propel us toward what we were aiming at. Normally we conceived or composed a performance directive and then followed it. As a result of something I said, Lucy produced this sequence in reverse.
I performed an action and then she pronounced a directive. There is potential in surprise. I was thinking through the parts of the event and what built it—reverse engineering a moment in which water is spilled into a river on the floor as a product of the directive: The confusion of intention and action and the mis-chronology offer alternate spectacles and lead to re-thinking the constituent parts of a cascading chain of events, the flow of details, the unblending of a mixture, the spread then of a tumult, now visible as separate parts with separate functions yet all as one in their natural state.
A post-mortem only possible post-mortem. Everything we had mentioned or focussed on, acted upon us, even the incidental played a part in how we activated the ideas in the room. There was an abandoned water bottle in the room. I removed it only to retrieve it later when I needed a river.
The students watching said: Post-moment is all we seem to have. Moment is a gift to post-moment in the same way that everything I do is a gift to future-Karen and either sets future-Karen up well or not-so-well but is always a present in good faith. But all is still not yet clear, even if I squint my eyes. And here now I wish to say that it became clear and then cloudy again; the material a creature which loomed and then slid back into the dark waters. I saw before its retreat, a possibility of the individual parts coming together to perform as colours do and then falling apart into something less than meaning.
The creature not quite formed. And yet contours were visible. An interdependent collection at a range of distances. A toll booth that adds up the proceeds, a voice that continues after the parade has passed. And if we continue working, the contours will stop slipping and eventually we will see through the fog to the performance taking shape in the clearing. We read from a Bridget Riley interview: And we tell ourselves this: A performance directive is a way to contribute to or create a future conversation.
By holding up a performance which releases thought when they look at it, activate the audience to release meaning. Make a performance which suggests a constellation the viewer wishes to name. The room is thicker now with less of a flutter. Not as transfixed by the dead flies and the constant air travel overhead. Calm is here and the quiet of the room is aloud. Loud enough all by itself. The listening is more and less.
The space in my head is wider and more directed. Testing is the only way to know what we are as two. As two we can imagine or try to imagine what might happen or we might be hesitant to think about it because setting something down in brain matter in a linear explainable verbalised way might pave the way for entrenchment or disappointment or unnecessary disagreement—the kind that gets hung up on a technicality. So it is thicker. The failure of communication has risen as a main concern in the material.
The what of the matter of the piece might be solved by the smiles and the names of them and that the smiles have names. And now we know that we must catalog the smiles and that when they are fully ordered and named then we will have finished the work. Ten feet tall with the list of things to be punished. We need a box. How does it end up? Something about punishment and something about smiles and something about a comparison to Jesus. Under the common law of England and Wales and other common law jurisdictions, it originally consisted of the intentional and wanton removal of a body part that would handicap a person's ability to defend himself in combat.
Under the strict common law definition, initially this required damage to an eye or a limb, while cutting off an ear or a nose was deemed not sufficiently disabling.
Later the meaning of the crime expanded to encompass any mutilation, disfigurement, or crippling act done using any instrument. This article is outdated. Please update this section to reflect recent events or newly available information. August The most significant change in common-law mayhem doctrine came in , when the King's Bench decided Fetter v. There, the plaintiff recovered in a battery action against a defendant. Shortly thereafter, "part of his skull by reason of the said battery came out of his head," and the plaintiff brought a subsequent action under mayhem.
Though Fetter is also known as an early example of res judicata, it is most significant for expanding the ambit of mayhem to include "loss of the skull. The word is first attested in various Romance languages in the 13th century, but its ultimate origin is unclear. Other uses Mayhem can describe a person going on a rampage. Popular misunderstanding of the common journalese expression "rioting and mayhem" caused the common usual modern use of "mayhem" to mean "havoc and disorder", often with humorous overtones.
Ideally a residency takes place in a dedicated spot, a spot where those involved, in this case, the two of us, can set up an atmosphere dedicated to the work we hope to do. This work is not yet imagined. If the work can be represented by a photo perhaps there is a corner of the photo that is developed and in focus while the rest of the photo is still being developed. So we try to set up an atmosphere that is conducive to a good working climate. It is alchemical, it is a kind of magic combination of protection, collection, deliberation, and discovery.
It is a container for what might come. It needs to be open and without a sense of oppression. It needs to be without distraction and yet somehow open to contamination. It needs to be stimulating without being overwhelming. It needs to be quiet enough for listening but with something to listen for. We like to focus so that ideas will come to distract us. It is often when we are looking intently for one thing that we find another.
The one thing we are looking for cannot be merely a shill for the eventual discovery. This original focus is very influential and governs the direction of our gaze and yet it is what appears out the corners of our eyes that is often what takes over to become the ultimate focus and the centre of our attention. A kind of virtual snooker match, a set of ricochetting foci, a series of new angles and knock-on effects. We need a set of surfaces to bounce off. The residency places us in a context offset from our usual habit.
This newness is engineered to unlock routine and find possibilities in a shape becoming ours while we attempt to inhabit it. It is a place to be a tourist and see with unaccustomed eyes. It is a brand new outfit that requires us to reconsider our parameters. It is a break and a hollow place, it is a cradle and a bridge, it is a state of mind and a solid shape. There are two residencies planned to take place at University of Roehampton, Department of Drama, Theatre and Performance.
Practically this means work in the studio for 5 to 6 days followed by a public-facing presentation for the DTP community. It took place on 3 December He asked me whether I ever looked back in my notebook. He was watching me write in it and he wanted to make the point that what I was doing was pointless and that perhaps I should not waste my time that way. He was sure that my answer to his question: I said yes and he was incredulous saying: I thought of him just now as I was walking, because I'd mused about an idea that had come to me for something to do in a workshop.
A new idea, I thought. I had been so glad about this new idea. I went through my notebook to add it to what I'd written a couple of months before for that same workshop but there it was, a note in my own handwriting of that same idea. I was having it again for the first time. When I got home from the walk I cleared a block in the sink and answered some emails and sent a few tweets for the upcoming performance in Aberystwyth at which point I remembered the plan to write something down.
- International Review of Cytology: A Survey of Cell Biology: 193 (International Review of Cell and Mo?
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- Blood in the Sand: Understanding the Middle East Conflict--the Stakes, the Dangers, and What the Bib.
I flexed my brain looking for it. I poked a stick into the inner layers. I couldn't remember what it had been. Nothing at all came to mind. When, as I continued to clear a few things in advance of my trip, I turned the radio on and heard a woman who takes care of elephants talking about writing a diary to keep track of developments, the memory of this internal conversation about the notebook and the memory and the workshop exercise came flowing back to me.
Now I've written it down. It's all there now. Every curling loop of it. We people have a compulsion to categorize. We do it for the clarity. We do it for the banishment of chaos. We do it and it sometimes clouds our ability to accept something simply because it does not fit into the accepted category, or the expected category.
I suppose if there were no categories it would just be soup or sewer or jumble sale. But we spend a lot of time on the categories and then we spend a lot of time straddling them or being sliced in two by them. But we do need limiting devices. Otherwise there is too much to look at. Too much to consider. I guess defining in order to weed out what I don't want before I even see it, is somewhat suspect to me even though I am lamentably incapable of "seeing" everything.
This is our first line: I suppose if we can't ask these questions we can't really discuss anything. I wouldn't want to put a stop to definition or to discussion or to disputation. But I wonder how useful some of these distinctions are? My question might be: And that would be annoying to quite a few people I imagine. I can tell what isn't ballet. I can tell you what made me think of ballet. If we are the hub, then one spoke goes out to the derelict BMW parked on the street with at least two flat tires tyres near the bike station where we frequently dock public bikes on our way to work, and another spoke goes out to the prank phone callers who leave voicemail messages suggesting we've won a BMW and just need to come and pick it up.
These messages became aggressive and violent after a live version of this prank call took place in which it was made clear that though they did have our home phone number, they did not know our names and therefore it was hard to believe we'd won something, in spite of her insistence. We are the only connection between the real and the imaginary BMW or maybe there's really no connection at all. Tom, a 3rd year student at University of Falmouth, was writing his dissertation around the idea of the compositional ordering of a performance piece and was very interested in the way that we chose to order and compose the various "micro-elements" within Control Signal.
At the beginning of the piece the different elements seemed quite clearly defined around the edges and did not appear to relate to each other in any obvious way. However as the performance went on they slowly began to spill over into each other. Was the order meticulously planned for these spillages to happen at certain times? Or do you feel that this was this more something that was out of your "control"? I responded that it was, as he put it, meticulously planned, but it was also intuitively felt. The style in which we worked on the performance meant that there was a lot of trial and error and finding out how to place little, time-released capsules here and there at the beginning and through the middle so that when certain big ideas are brought out it feels like there's already a history for them to rest on or little dormant ideas to activate.
It causes the piece to assemble inside the heads of the audience. I think of it as little bits of dried moss that spring to life when watered. Another student asked a related question during the post-show discussion. He asked about how the idea of translating internal thoughts into live versions of material related to the fragmentary nature of how the various bits arrived during the show. I think sequencing the material is the most important thing we do.
And this has specifically to do with how to convey thoughts in the practical world, how to convey what sits inside our heads and makes sense within the tumult of information that sits in there amongst all of the things we know or think about. Translating that into material that conveys the complexity of thought as we experience it internally into something that can be shared with other people, even people we've never met, is a tricky business. It is easy if the thoughts can be generalised and concretised but if we want them to be re-assembled inside the heads of each audience member according to their own inclinations then it is a delicate balance.
Maybe it's like those model ships inside bottles. It shouldn't be possible, but it is. It's a way of making the reading of the show belong to the audience and in this way it becomes their own set of ideas because they participate in the mantling opposite of dismantling? Resonance, counterpoint, and confrontation, self and otherness: What creative methodologies, or creations does it foster across - and among - diverse fields of practice? How is the duet different from other forms of collaboration? When does this experience of alterity become an experience of duality? And what happens then?
Join us for an exploration of these questions in an afternoon of talks, dialogues and presentations focusing on the practice of duets by scholars and artists from performance, theatre, dance, music, visual arts and creative writing. As befits the subject matter, participants will take the floor in pairs in a dynamic reimagining of the traditional symposium. Keynote speakers to include: I looked up "red spot on tulip" because I had a bunch of white tulips and one of them had a thin strip of red that was only about a centimeter long and the width of an eyelash. I'd another bunch of tulips that were pink and green and one of them had a small red splotch which caught my eye.
When you google "red spot on tulip" this is what happens:. The first thing I saw was a photo of a field of white tulips including one with a striking red spot. Another link mentioned something about a virus which gave tulips red streaks of extravagant design and I thought, oh, perhaps these tiny red spots are just a bit of a cold, a tulip virus, a flu, but just a touch, not the kind that completely takes over.
This made me think of pearls and irritation and of pressure and diamonds and how if you send a couple of elements that repel each other through a supercolider together their bond might produce a bright orange colour because they are are not compatible but they have been forced to join up and this has, so to speak, irritated them. We've just posted Joe Kelleher 's edited transcript of our post show discussion following our premiere of Control Signal 10 October at Chelsea Theatre. If you've never seen the show and want to go in cold some time in the future don't read it. On the other hand, it might give you the nudge you've been waiting for.
We'll have some more performance dates coming up in the Autumn. It's not too soon to start dreaming. Joe's piece is here. As far as I know he was a large parrot named Cesar. There may have been some sibling rivalry over the bird. It was considered a prize. And this bird spoke and talking birds hold secrets and release revelations in the declaration of what they have learned to say through the hearing of oft repeated sounds.
A bird who imitates what it hears learns the regular, the repeated, it learns to imitate without prejudice. It learns by rote. And it learns without embellishment. In addition to usual lines the parrot was taught intentionally, words specifically considered charming for parrots to say, he also said [with conspiratorial fervor]: But the most puzzling noise that the bird made was a kind of murmuring with pauses which, though strangely familiar, was almost completely unintelligible.
It took awhile to hear what it was the bird was imitating. My friends with the parrot had to relax their minds as they listened to the inexplicable sound he made in order to sense the totality of it. It had a rhythm and a tone distinctly human without using a single human word. With an aural version of a squint or the kind of cognitive unclenching that releases a fugitive memory, my friend finally realized that Cesar, the parrot, was imitating the sound of a phone conversation as heard from the other side of a closed door.
The company's work is committed to discovery--rather than starting with a theme or focus on a particular area of concern or in a presumed format--each project begins with a search for how and where to begin. By determining the context of the material through a process of discovery we allow prevailing concerns and interest of the artists involved to be affected by prevailing concerns and interests of the community around them.
Attempting to acknowledge the continuous present, and beginning again and again, and using everything. Composition is not there, it is going to be there and we are here. This is some time ago for us naturally. There is something to be added afterwards. In southern California, where I was living and working for 6 weeks last Autumn there were quite a few humming birds positioning themselves in front of flowers in front of me.
I was looking at everything as if I'd never seen that kind of thing before. But also as though everything there was part of my history and as such offered a tonic. When I saw this flower, one of many on a sprawling bush, I was alarmed to see how many bees were cuddled against the center of each blossom. The thing is, when it came in, her piece of writing, I was far away in California looking at the sky and the October performances at Chelsea Theatre were a distant glowing memory but the problems that were right in front of me were the ones I was focussed on and the life just before was pale or hazy and her writing brought it all clearly back into focus.
This piece by Mary Paterson about Control Signal duet by Karen Christopher and Sophie Grodin is revealing the heart of what we were working on and the way Mary has been able to articulate her experience of it hit me like cupid's arrow, a kind of beautiful pain. These seed harpoons embedded their hooks into my shoes and walked through the field in Montana and the airport and the airplane and the duty free shops and immigration and customs and the tube and they have long curly tails or flags or arms.
They just reach out, grab on, and start waving. We said, answer the question: We said, your idea. We said, a dialogue with contamination, with influence, with subsonic itch. We said, make it vibrate. Boris Hauf made some music for us and it is good. Boris Hauf designed music for Control Signal listen here: It is fast and slow at the same time it is trying to hold a polyrhythm in your head. I hear that we are finishing. I hear it every morning. I hear it before I go to sleep at night.
We are fact finishing but we are not screaming into the finish line, we are stepping. The steps high and irregular early in the past week. We stumbled at a few steps which were just ever so slightly misjudged. It was better the second day. And we tap-danced into the third day which felt like a dream dotted with laugh. So it goes in fits and starts. Adjustments to new versions. I think we are lined up to enjoy it. Working at Chisenhale was great.
We were in the main space so we had depth of space and beautiful sunlight coming in through the windows. We also had jackhammers. It was time to replace that old cement with bricks outside in front of the building across the street. This was our sound track while we worked with Boris Hauf who created some excellent sound for the piece. She helped clarify the images we were working toward. It all happened as we hoped: The piece has been combed and parted, we got the extra bits out. Two of us alone in a room and we worked on it and we played with it and people came in and said things about it.
And then the next week we knew it all had to change. So easy now to let it go. Last week it would have broken our hearts. What I am seeing is something created between us. What I am seeing is empty space opening. What I am seeing is an empty chair: What I am seeing is useless. What I am seeing is force exerted to the right and left causes an upward motion. What I am seeing is a skeleton of a chair. What I am seeing is the trace of a craftsman. What I am seeing is a hollow place. What I am seeing is space carved.
What I am seeing is floating. What I am seeing is light. What I am seeing is caught in a web. What I am seeing is a chair caught in a web. What I am seeing is double spiders large enough to eat a chair. What I am seeing is the empty space around the chair. What I am seeing is the space around the chair is shifting. What I am seeing is the space between us is shifting. A month of intensive failure studies at KulturFabrik. This was the very end:. Eduardo Galleano writes of Utopia: When I walk two steps, it takes two steps back. I walk ten steps and it is ten steps further away.
What is Utopia for? It is for this, for walking. Because you asked me, I had to explain, because I had to explain I thought about it carefully, because I thought about it carefully I understand it better now and in new ways. Failure does the same thing. Failure to keep quiet. What is failure to me? I am a bridge. As part of my current performance work I am engaged with making a series of duets. Each duet is designed collaboratively between the two duet partners, me and one other person.
The duet partners determine the length of work time, the style of the work, the starting place, and the specific making process undertaken. It is site-specific and must be performed next to a large body of water, a major river, lake or sea. In each location it is performed it is re-made with a few foundation elements common to each version.
The method is swift and immersive. My partner for this duet, Teresa Brayshaw, has a full-time job and a year-old son. Our working methods have been designed to allow for her tight schedule. She and I arrive at a site having met a few times for meetings in the month or so leading up to the performance date. Then once on site we usually have 3 to 4 days to re-make the work in response to the site and take care of logistics.
Not failing means being flexible, open to change, to uncertainty and being fearless about the possibility of getting it wrong. And if we want the process to be enjoyable it means we have to allow leisure activities to invade these work-heavy days and food and sleep. We stay together, eat together, walk around the environs together, and treat everything as possible material for the work. When our plans are scuttled for logistical reasons we change our plans, treating it as an opportunity to improve the piece. We agree to less than readiness--we are always ready. At our last performance, in Bilbao, we thought we would have 20 young girls from the theatre school making a cameo appearance in red cardigans, we imagined them flying small hand-made red paper kites.
Then we were told the school would be finished the week before our show and it would be impossible to get them back to be involved in our show. But, we were told, it was possible that two year-old girls could join us on the day of the performance. But we had a new one--the girls could deliver the translations into Spanish and Basque of our minimal spoken text. This seemed like a great idea.
When photos came the week before our arrival the girls looked more like 16 years old and we asked via email how old they were. When we asked about the girls the day before the show we were told that there were new girls now and that they were 8 years old. Now we wondered whether girls that young would be able to deliver the translations, reading off the handwritten cards prepared for them. When it was all done, looking back, it was genius to have such young girls reading the translations. In this way, we let the circumstances compose the piece with us and because we had not overdetermined the outcome or solidified our expectations, there was no chance of disappointment and thus no failure.
I wanted to build a crying machine I wanted to build a time machine I wanted to build a machine BUT I am a performance maker. The difference between thinking and making is like the difference between the idea of a knife and the presence of the knife right here in my hand. I chose a huge sea shell. I didn't think I could do it. Alone in a room at my "worktable" I was faced with a table top of tools: At first I didn't want to break apart the shell and then I really couldn't. It received quite a few bashes with the hammer without damage.
I had to put it between a rock and a hard place and even then it was just thin splinters that flew up from the point of impact. Good thing I'd been issued goggles. I would have said to you, you can't bring me the smell of the ocean. I would have said to you: I despaired of making the slightest crack when I stopped and took up a hack saw. Slowly, but with purpose, I drew back and forth across the top of the sea shell and I steadied everything and put my back into it.
Some time may have passed. All of a sudden the scent of the sea rose straight into my senses: For a moment I was all the way there. Suddenly it was my childhood and dried salt on my skin--no sound but the waves that never stop: This is a question that has stimulated inspiration during the creation of a new duet that Sophie Grodin and I are working on almost finished.
Of the many answers to this question, some have turned into material for the performance. When you see the show you will not know that we asked ourselves this question but you will see the answer to it. A state of presence with each other in our case was fostered by a relaxed way of being together and holding open for possibilities and not straining to achieve but rather finding an active search, finding a way to put our bodies into it. Not following instructions but following instinct or train of thought.
We two found an even ground between us where physical work, throwing the body into action, provides results and further direction. This time the piece will incorporate giant paper boats and miniature kites along with the usual canoes filled with water and procedures for keeping safe. Teresa Brayshaw and I will be getting into the canoes in Bilbao, Spain. The programme can be seen here if you zoom in you can see us in the strip at the bottom closing night. Utopia is on the horizon. What is utopia for? It's a workshop to compose a question. The question will start a process of discovery.
The question will be inspiring or lead into a brick wall, a question will launch a ship or take you down a dark alley. These questions are to provoke a response, these will not be neutral questions, these are questions that influence an answer. They are leading questions. We are looking for leading questions.
They function as agents that stimulate a reaction, development, or change, something that causes fermentation. It is a workshop to find a question that takes the form of a walk during which we hope to compose this question or to find it. Among other things we weave a weft through the warp of attention drawn by future train passengers silently standing all facing departure boards at Euston station. Or are we the warp. Just because we continue passing doesn't mean we aren't for those moments the stability around which the weave is made visible.
We listen, we watch, we dissassemble and assemble. We hover a bit here or there to write. I am standing in the middle of a dance performed by travelers, by pigeons, by plastic shopping bags, the sirens from ambulances, the beep beep of taxis, an indeciferable roar, the confessions of trees, the conversations of men--into phones, a blizzard of seeds, a pram with a balloon attached, a bank slip, a long beard, a caravan of wheeled suitcases.
So many hands pressing plastic close to the faces. They serve a bit of wine and cheese and it's an informal occasion to hear and talk about something the invited artist has chosen to focus on. It's at the World's End it's not as far away as you think. So Below will be presented at the end of the symposium day. We are inviting a limited number of people to attend the performance even if they are not attending the symposium itself.
As part of this invitation there is no charge to attend the performance of So Below. RSVP for the performance only here and instructions will be sent for where to show up on the day. There are a limited number of places which will be filled in order of responses received. Long waves begin to form Stories of the wind in 5 parts—fragments for a future performance As part of an ongoing investigation into invisible forces, this is an early study, a small sketch for something really big about the wind. Introduction] [entry sneeze] [sit with back to audience: Where does the wind go?
Where does it start? Smoke drift indicates wind direction. Leaves and wind vanes are stationary. Crests of glassy appearance, not breaking Wind felt on exposed skin. Wind vanes begin to move. Crests begin to break; scattered whitecaps. Leaves and small twigs constantly moving, light flags extended. Dust and loose paper raised. Small branches begin to move. An innumerable sum of Davids together making one massive Goliath. We've now received and posted written responses to So Below from two invited responders: Joe Kelleher and Mary Paterson.
There are excerpts here and links to the full texts below. It appears like a story glimpsed in a stream of words that have tumbled out of a book in the wrong order. To watch, it is surprising. To remember, it is full of sensory pleasure, like a mist of steam rising from a silver spout. If only I could make the sound of Karen into something corporeal. We create a climate together. We create a system of balances with weights that we have tested ourselves. We designed new dishes with food from different shelves. Positions are taken and each of us must decide what we are willing to sacrifice.
Habits are easy to form and we form them quickly. We find what works with a particular set of people and conditions and we repeat successful combinations. When studio time is over at the end of a process it is like breaking up a way of life. Void is felt and I spend a few days lost and bereft. Sophie Grodin , duet , Control Signal. Last night was only a comedy. The walk from our accommodation to the theatre took us through a fantastic old park with tall trees populated by flocks of bright green parrots.
Each day I heard the parrots screeching around in the tree tops as I passed through the park. Sometimes I saw them flying in groups. I decided to use it to find a parrot feather in the park. With so many parrots flying around all the time, I thought, they must be dropping their green feathers down onto the ground beneath. There should be a number of lovely green feathers, I thought, nestled into the layers of autumn leaves resting in the woodiest areas.
So I spent two hours carefully scouring the ground for green feathers. I saw plenty of feathers but none of them green. That was the name of it: It seemed a fitting start to my time in London. We met over three days and participated in various activities all of which threw us into some kind of state of unknowing, uncertainty, doubt.
The final day we went separately to far flung parts of the city to participate in different sorts of activities. Lust has to take a back seat to the flight of the station; he just needs to find out what the huge ship is actually designed to do. When Alphy finds out that there have been changes made to her systems, she must face being a freak among cyborgs with her altered design. When she meets a group of Liberators who oppose the Cyborg Eradication Project, she agrees to join an expedition set on freeing a group of cyborgs. Thunder wants to free his cyborg brothers too. He takes Melissa prisoner, only to find that she stirs strange new feelings in him — primal, powerful urges he has neither the ability nor the desire to control.
Can she and Thunder find a way to escape? If they do, will humans and cyborgs tear them apart? Struggling with his new existence, Bash still retains his human memories, leaving behind a wife he loves with all of his heart. As a young widow and nurse, Irene Lockard still mourns her husband two years after his untimely death. His absence is everywhere, and when her best friend weds, she hits an emotional rock bottom.
As if summoned from the skies above, Sebastian appears before her, and they share an unforgettable night. The only way Sebastian can remain with Irene is if he makes the ultimate sacrifice. But will she overcome her fear of losing him again to another war? Seaton Zircon, formerly a powerful sea dragon who once kept the oceans in balance, has just awakened along with his two dragon siblings. Jenny Reed runs a small restaurant frequented by beachside visitors and, with a few exceptions, life is simple and quiet.
Burn the Earth and revenge is yours! Set the world ablaze for the one you love! Unleash Magic, Fire, and Fantasy! Embark on wild adventures alongside fiery dragons, demons, mutant vampires, and sword-wielding heroes! Curvy Naomi Edwardson is working two jobs just to make ends meet. She has given up on her dream of being an artist — until she gets a life-changing offer for one of her paintings.
Turns out, Athan belongs to an underground society of vampires who feed only on humans with their consent. Their enemies have no such qualms, and they want me dead. The only thing standing in their way is strong, sexy Athan. And the closer we get, the more tempted I am to let Athan feed. As a loyal soldier, I must deliver Tendra to our future king—my brother.
Empowered with the blood of ten generations of the Gregorie breed, she is fated to rule as our queen. Nicknamed the big bad wolf, Dr. Paxton Noble is a sexy shifter notorious for his bedside manner and nocturnal activities. When an unidentified woman is rushed through the emergency room doors, his life is turned upside down. Something about her scent stirs more than just his libido.
She stirs his wolf. Now, Evie is stuck in a dream world that only Pax can enter. Pax wants to do more than wake Evie. He has to figure out how to bring her back. An unexpected connection that brings reality into dreams with a lot of paranormal steam comes to the rescue. Summer Cahill lives as quietly as she can, protecting her ability as a psychic healer. But danger brings Troy Arsenault into her life—along with scorching nights and intense emotions. Looking for the perfect escape? This must-read paranormal romance and urban fantasy boxed set is filled with tales of vampires, aliens, angels, witches, ghosts, shifters, sirens, and more, containing over one hundred hours of page-turning reads that will leave your heart pounding and your pulse racing.
Despised by his tiger shifter pride as an abomination, Grey has ventured far from home, deep into the bowels of Hell in search of answers about the machinations of Archangel, the mortal hunter organisation who held his twin captive. With no knowledge of the realm, and little skill with the local languages, he quickly finds himself at a dead end—until he crosses paths with a beautiful hellcat female who rouses his darkest most dangerous instincts.
Lyra has been a fool, falling for the charms of a male whose only desire was to make a fast buck by selling her. Shackled and collared, her strength muted by magic, she awaits her time on the stage at a black-market auction, but before it can come, all hell breaks loose and she seizes a chance to escape—and runs straight into a majestic warrior who steals her breath away and tempts her like no other as he battles alone to free everyone. When Lyra offers her services as a translator to repay Grey for saving her, will he be strong enough to resist the needs she awakens in him and spare himself the pain of her inevitable rejection when she discovers the truth about him?
And when the powerful male in charge of the slave ring starts a bloody hunt for Lyra, can she escape another collar and find the courage to trust the tiger who is capturing her heart? But after being forced from their home by another saber clan and having been on the run for over a year, her father pushes her through a portal to Earth, stranding her on the strange new planet full of too many people, too many sights, and too many temptations.
Put her in the care of fellow sabertooth Mr. Raze grew up a slave in the Saber Mountain clan, paying for the sins of his parents and fighting to gain his place. Nala Drakki is a dark fairy shifter with a sinister past. Starring as the fabled monster in bedtime stories he has no regrets killing shifters who merit a death sentence. Mark is the larger-than-life billionaire Alpha of the secretive Jaguar Clan.
Shelly is at the dinner to network and possibly find some clients for her architectural design business. She comes from old money, but her family has fallen on hard times in recent decades and she likes to work for her living… more …. We used to do the old Six Sentence Sunday snippet hop together, always enjoyed her books. The Talon Pack continues with a new twist to the Packs and a revelation no one was prepared for.
Dawn Levin may be younger than the war that destroyed her people, but she knows she must still pay for their sins. There is a new enemy on the horizon, one with revenge and the unknown on their minds. An adversary that might be closer than they realize. Under moonlit skies, witches, werewolves, vampires, demons, dragons, and more, battle not only for their mates, but to stay alive…. Fall for the alphas who play by their own rules despite the odds, whether century-old curses or forbidden love, or worse.
For them, what lies in the darkness is worth the fight when it comes to romance. Every day, I prayed before the Starlight gods, asking for their divine assistance in accomplishing such a difficult task. Being an experiment for as long as I can remember, my hopes of obtaining freedom have diminished, drastically. The disappointment haunted me, as myself and my spirits struggled to survive.
I had no hope left, believing my final plea fell upon deaf ears, yet again. But what happens when my prayers are finally answered? Suddenly, I am no longer experiment , but the stolen princess of Heila. Freedom, how you have teased my troubled soul. May the Starlight gods guide me and my knights, on this path towards the unknown. As the younger sister of a famous author, Dominque is used to staying out of the limelight. That is until she starts dreaming about men who make her want to peel off her clothes and throw herself at them.
This quiet girl is suddenly ravenous to feel their hands on her bare skin, and their mouths as they kiss their way along her spine. But these warlocks made for battle, trained and hardened against the flames of conflict are not real—they are just figments of her imagination. And when her best friend is in a car accident and the men from her dreams show up in real life, offering to help she has a choice to make.
Or will she wake and find herself living in a nightmare where she loses everything she loves? Featuring three brand-new stories and an original introduction by Peter S. Bestselling author Patricia A. Within these pages you will find a youthful artist possessed by both his painting and his muse and seductive travelers from the sea enrapturing distant lovers. The statue of a mermaid comes suddenly to life, and two friends are transfixed by a haunted estate.
She is Hettie Alabama — unlikely, scarred, single-minded, and blood bound to a revolver forged by a demon. Militess Halina has claimed numerous victories for her king and country. Embrace the Romance with Pets in Space 2 anthology. Chock-a-block full of original, never before published science fiction romance stories from 12 leading Sci-Fi Romance authors. Hot sexy aliens, heroines who know how to take care of themselves, and the pets who bring them together.
If the author provides me with buy links I insert those; otherwise I default to Amazon and iBooks. Pricing and availability are current as of the day I prepare the post — things can change fast in the ebook world LOL. Been eagerly awaiting this one, always good to have a new book from her! Arian Teraz would be perfectly happy if she never returned to her cheerless, hopeless world.
Her life changes when her ship is damaged. Rescued by a handsome alien from a distant galaxy, Arian longs to find a place with him and his people. When an anomaly sends his ship into a mysterious, no-exit sanctuary about to be invaded by a deadly adversary, he is forced to trust the unusual woman who might be his only ticket out.
I have this one pre-ordered releases the 27th. I LOVE this series about a generation ship on its way to the stars. Association with the wrong people could destroy her hopes. Adam Wary is a typical skinwalker, living hard and fast, for life can be short. Yashilla lives in her head.
He never expected she might give him a reason to live instead. But lowering their defenses increases the danger; without trust, they both might get exactly what they were looking for, and nothing that they want. Brilliant, inventive, and much too sexy for his peace of mind, she soon becomes his top suspect. The last thing she needs is an FPA inspector breathing down her neck. As Nick draws closer to the truth, intrigue and desire bind them together in a complicated knot. Will Cassie be able to complete her work with the Shays, or will Nick bring it crashing down upon their heads? Not much of a blurb on Amazon!
Reena Rhodes is furious with the Draqua aliens. They have saved her and her crew, but at the cost of her freedom. The Draqua intend to make her a mate for their dying race of dragon shifters, but she is a scientist and she is too good to be used for mating. No Draqua will change her mind, not even the attractive rogue Lieutenant Dekario Dundra. Lieutenant Dekario Dundra is an arrogant dragon shifter that gets what he wants when hewants, even if he has to defy his Commander to get it.
Although determined to bring her home untouched, their desire for her is intense, the connection undeniable. Could it be she has the power to heal their wounded hearts? Daniella Alltryp lives in the lap of luxury, but under the thumb of her dictatorial father her life is a cold, isolated existence. That ends in two weeks when she turns twenty-five and gains control of her trust fund.
Her father has other plans, including an arranged marriage to an alien prince, using her to further line his pockets. Daniella will have none of it…. Hankura and Chelle continue their life together joining the crew of the Searching Star, an exploration ship with a mission to find new worlds for colonization and reconnect with lost colonies. Their lives are on an intersecting course with the horse clans of Oltarin a lost colony in the midsts of a year old blood feud primarily between the mountain clans and the lake clans.
Their society devolved from space faring into rival clans who rode horses and fought each other with swords, knives, and crossbows. Vay has the least military experience among the Sadirian soldiers working with the Department of Homeworld Security, but still volunteered to track the dangerous Scorpiian bounty hunter running loose on Earth. But Henry has fallen in with the wrong crowd—a pair of Lyrians who have claimed him as their nestling—and that Vay is duty-bound to arrest for trespassing on Earth. She had needs no one could meet, desires so dark no one could tame her.
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Alone on Earth, the decision was easy. Her mates will feed the hunger inside her no others ever could. But their secrets will either break her heart…or set her free forever. Searching for their magical gift to create new life. Searching for the fire in their eyes when they scream our names in the heat of passion. Do I care if mating with her could risk everything? With only the Sibiox, Gibly knowing his darkest of secrets, he believed the pain of the past was finally left where it belonged.
It only took one urgent phone call to bring all his nightmares into the light of day. And now he and Nevada are confronted by a new threat within her own family. Can they face this together? Or is their world about to go up in smoke? Hot Shot Saif al Nar is a natural when it comes to fighting fires. Add some unexpected backup in the form of a lovely djinn and Saif is ready to set the town on fire.
Raihana Nejem retired from being a genie in a lamp centuries ago and now works for the U. Fires are devastating her field area, but the sexy firefighter djinn might just be more dangerous. Is Saif behind the arson or is something darker and more dangerous going on? With hearts and lives on the line, Raihana must decide if she can stand the heat that comes with loving a man like Saif.
Josh is a horrible Cupid. The matches he makes are sloppy and fall apart by the third date, and he tends to forget his wings and his bow and arrow in the back seat of his car instead of bringing them into the office. Annie believes in love with all her heart. She watches it happen every day at the hotel where she works.
When Josh shows up in Dallas with a special assignment to save true love, Annie is stunned to discover Cupids are real. Between them, they may have everything they need to save true love. But only if they work together. Alexis is another author whose snippets I read on the Weekend Writing Warriors hop, and she writes very smoothly. Have enjoyed the excerpts she shared so this is on my TBR List. Now, just when they think they might settle into as normal a life as elves living among humans might be able to expect, a new enemy threatens to tear them apart.
Zeke and Ian soon discover that the defeated Queen Ysolde has spread her evil into the sea realms, and danger lurks beneath every wave. As Ysolde plots revenge and a mysterious prince seeks to win Ian for himself, the ancient war between light and dark sweeps Ian and Zeke into its maelstrom of hate, testing their trust for each other to the utmost.
Di fled rural West Virginia to study music and pursue a bright future as a violinist. But when a mining accident nearly kills her father, she is summoned back home to support her family. Old ghosts and an old flame emerge from the past. When Di gets a job as a bookkeeper at the same mine where her father worked, she is drawn into a conflict pitting neighbor against neighbor as the mine plans an expansion to an untouched mountain.
Di has discovered a dragon lives deep within Sawtooth Mountain, and he is not happy with this encroachment upon his lair. But will she want to live after she finds out how Ben had to save her? Shubert, the kitty cat love of her life was her first rescue, and she was bound and determined to make volunteering at the Saving Furry Lives Shelter part of her reality. Appearances can be deceiving and some bites are much worse than their bark. Royce Buchanan is a doctor tired of the dating scene.
A terrifying darkness has risen and is sweeping Kutia Hollow, leaving dead bodies in its wake. Luna Vale, a fae militia lieutenant in post-apocalyptic Moscow, discovers evidence that a criminal holds the answer to stopping the murders. Except those in charge at the precinct are corrupt. Devastated to be on the run from her former friends and colleagues, she must now work together with Axel before the killers close in on them. But time is running out, and falling for Axel only heightens the dangers.
To survive, Luna must find strength in her arcane powers and confront the cursed creatures whose malevolence knows no bounds. Not when it means losing her family, her job, and her life. With one foot in the distant past, the other remains firmly entrenched in the present. Daria tries to come to terms with the memories of her previous life as they inundate her mind on an endless loop. Can she deal with the past and find a way to walk the path that is laid out for her future? Is she brave enough to face her destiny, or will she walk away?
Iauron has his Queen back…or does he? Though the main threat to her life is temporarily incapacitated, he knows it cannot, and will not, remain that way forever. Not fully Verisiel nor Daria, is she strong enough to meet the coming threat head on? Can she come into her powers and stand by his side? Can he let her go if she cannot accept the whole truth of her situation? Bounty Hunter, Nox Fuller, has been challenged to do the impossible. Stuck between a war with the local crew, and the fire-breathing Red Dragon, Nox has to tread very carefully.
The closer he gets to the dragon, the more danger he and Nevada are both in. Nevada Foxburg has a life full of secrets. The problem is, gaining such incredible powers may drive Rachel insane and force Nathaniel to kill her. Otherwise she may kill him — and anyone else who gets in her way. But as he tests her — and makes love to her with every test she passes — mutual lust becomes something more. Old wounds are opened and she refuses to listen to instinct. Either Betty learns to shift or she dies. Problem is the only one willing to help is Ken, the last person she wants.
There are definite perks to being a shifter. Like, say, being dragged into an apocalyptic war between the species, waged by a she-demon who wants to end the world. Meanwhile, things are getting hot and heavy between me and Sam Harding, lieutenant in the local shifter pack. Sam is definitely the commitment type—if only I could be sure that I am, too.
Yeah, when this is over, I will absolutely get my life—love and otherwise—together. That is, if I manage to live through this mess. After, he vowed to never love again and put all of his energy into defending New Orleans from the evil Voodoo priestess out to destroy everything he held dear. Until a beautiful and maddening witch from the Quarter comes into his life and shakes everything up. For most of her life, Minka Verdin thought she was nothing more than a gifted fortune teller until a life-altering experience brought her into her powers….
Love lost can never be reclaimed. Until the ghost shows up with talks about his friends being marked by a demon. Oh, but not just any demon. The same one who has marked me and wants me dead. Fearful daddy dearest would be my next uninvited guess, I make the choice to follow the ghost to his four, very alive friends. To my relief they want my father dead as much as I do. Shaw Hollander is desperate. This Beauty and the Beast story holds true to the core of the fable while shaking off the element of fantasy and dragging it into present-day reality.
Shaw and Isobel are ready to let you climb into their four-wheel-drive pickup and take a ride with them into their version of happily ever after, but only if you first dare to gaze upon the monster among the roses. Landon King works hard, never makes mistakes, prides himself on always being fair, is honest to a fault, and owns one of the most successful companies in the world. After receiving a message stating he must return to the pride and take a mate to retain his title as King, Landon is, understandably, upset. How dare they send such a preposterous edict to him, their King. Landon feels disrespected and has no intention of being forced to take a mate.
Yet, he decides to make the journey so he can inform his people in person of his refusal, letting them know exactly where he stands. He, simply, will not be forced into a mating — by anyone. During his trip, he meets Davina Golden, a rogue lioness with no respect for the laws of the pride and even less for him, a lion-shifter king… more …. Hailey has been given the chance of her career.
Too bad the groom is her ex-boyfriend. Ryder hates seeing a damsel in distress and with a little genie magic is determined to make the sexy Miss Hailey have a little bit of fun. Peters left unfinished when she passed away. It quickly becomes apparent that someone saved Amelia from a would-be assassin—someone who is keeping a careful eye on the intrepid Englishwoman. Discovering a terse note clearly meant for Emerson—Where were you? But neither assassins nor the Genius of Crime will deter Amelia as she and Emerson head to the excavation site at Amarna, where they will witness the discovery of one of the most precious Egyptian artifacts: For Amelia, this excavation season will prove to be unforgettable.
Throughout her journey, a parade of men in monocles will die under suspicious circumstances, fascinating new relics will be unearthed, a diabolical mystery will be solved, and a brilliant criminal will offer his final challenge. Nikki Fortune has a secret. But her real purpose forces her to dig deeper into the network that runs the resort than she ever imagined. Indiana has a lot on his mind, not the least of which is figuring out Nikki Fortune.
Why does she disappear every Sunday morning? Why would someone who obviously hates tennis keep taking lessons? And why, gods, why, is she so blindingly stunningly, achingly sexy? When Indy stumbles onto some answers the two realize they must work together if they want to uncover the truth. But the only way to do that is to trust each other. I just traveled halfway across the galaxy to meet my new husband. With no women left on Auxem, the aliens turned to Earth for their brides. He hardly speaks to me.
However, with rogues hunting for her, and wanting to use her for their cause, she must accept their assistance. But whether she can accept the intriguing connection between them is yet to be seen. No home, no family and only faded memories of the life she lost. But after discovering she poses a danger to ship and crew, Jiang leaves, not wanting to risk causing them more harm.
The only thing he knows for certain is that Lieutenant Jiang Chen needs his help. Ryder just needs to get Jiang to trust in herself—and in him—before the weapon deploys. After years of working for the Alien Immigration Office on Earth, Alyssa has finally been sent on her first assignment in space. Xarq has had it with bodyguarding jobs. But one last job gets between him and his future military career, and he gets a tiny Earth female to protect. To top it all off, she is on her first mission in space, and his bodyguarding assignment turns more into a babysitting duty. He needs to focus on his job.
When my human mate was auctioned, she was sold to a savage lot of aliens. I rescued her body from her tormentors. But her mind… She is hurt. I am not going to walk away. And I will help her fight for us. Agendas collide as the bonds of duty, loyalty, and family are tested, and the major governments position themselves to prepare for what is to come next. Kidnapped by aliens who sell her into sex slavery to a hideously ugly alien of another species, Jenna Harper is sure her life is over.
Once Jenna is exposed to his pheomones she must have sex with the feline humanoid or risk death in a matter of days. Is she now doomed to sexual slavery of another kind? To avoid an all out war, the leader of the cyborgs travels to Earth on a stolen ship. Tensions between Earth and Mina Dos have never been higher. After the appearance of a mysterious comet, the cyborgs have begun to awaken. They are not longer satisfied with being slaves to the humans.
Maybe she can help him discover his own humanity, pieces of his broken past that have been buried beneath his circuitry. Strap yourself in for nineteen thrilling short stories of space pirates, time travelers, aliens, AI, and more! Not sure how much romance there is but sounds like a lot of superheroine goodness with humor.
They were supposed to be a dynamic duo, but more and more, Aveda finds herself shoved into the sidekick role. Where, it must be said, she is not at all comfortable. And I have seven Alpha Males as my mates. All mine to kiss and hold and touch, seven handsome men for my bed. My boys represent the biggest packs in North America.
This just in from CJ Mitchell:
But I am the Alpha Female and I rule them all. On the verge of bleeding out and hunted by his merciless torturers, Talon has no choice but to seek sanctuary at Underworld, a nightclub run by a jaguar shifter liable to kill him on sight for being a tiger shifter male. When Talon reveals the name of his captors, and his plan to head back in to save his friends, will Sherry be brave enough to embrace the feelings he stirs in her and step deeper into the world of immortals?
But it turns out; his past is never far behind him. He can barely resist the temptation of Jessie Buchanan as it is. There are two things Kate Affetto will do anything to protect: Things might not always be easy, but at least she gets to call all the shots and follow her own heart. She was raised to defend herself and those she loves. Teaming up with the dark-haired Guardian, Hope becomes a teacher to the females, giving them confidence to defend themselves in a time of need.
Ranger will risk his life to leave the pride in search of the one who harmed his mate. Nicole Abramson gains more than razor-sharp claws and a taste for raw meat. Although drawn to her outspokenness, Sander keeps Nicole at bay while he defends his clan. At an asylum in the English countryside, a man suspected of being Jack the Ripper kills an orderly and flees into the rain-soaked night.
An enigmatic woman who guards her own secrets closely, Lady Vivienne knows a creature from the shadowlands when she sees one. And if he finds it, the doors to the underworld will be thrown wide open…. Certain peculiar aspects of the crime attract the interest of the Society for Psychical Research and its newest investigator, Harrison Fearing Pell. Or is the motive something darker? Harry and Lady Vivienne must join forces to stop an ancient evil. The key is something called the Thirteenth Gate. But where is it? And more importantly, who will find it first?
Consider the knot
In a world on the brink of chaos, only two people can balance opposing forces and restore order to the universe. To do so, the two must forge an intimate bond. A lawyer with good reason to abhor violence, Irina is wary of her new client, a famous boxer accused of murder. As a street orphan, Tyr learned to fight for survival and trust no one. Despite their differences, the two find themselves irresistibly drawn to each other. With secret forces working both for and against their alliance, Tyr and Irina find themselves on a journey fraught with danger, betrayal and overwhelming desire.
Ultimately the fate of billions rests in the hands and hearts of two lost souls who must overcome their fears and learn to trust each other. I am Freyja, the First Witch. I was born with a cruel curse: That is, until a formidable, drop-dead gorgeous Dragonian prince invades my forest home. The oracle promises the witch will be his true queen and bring him the greatest kingdom on Earth.
Not until he chooses me above her. She accepts him as a lover and a confidant but not as a life partner. Jackson suspects that Tessa is his true love mate, but unless she can overcome her traumatic past, he might never find out. This time for good. Molly is shocked to find that her family is on the receiving end of a business deal gone wrong. Her father, who has sacrificed everything for his family, could lose everything. As a mail order bride, she is able to save her father and her brother, but when she meets the brooding, spoiled rich wolf shifter who has claimed her, she wonders if it will be possible to save herself.
But when she begins to fall for Greyson, the harsh reality sets in. He may never change. But she is stuck with him. Will Molly ever be able to be anything but an inconvenience to this startlingly sexy man, or did she make the biggest mistake of her life in agreeing to become his mail order bride? Elisa Townes had always heard stories about WereDragons flying around Manhattan but she never expected to experience a dragon at first hand.