“for young students who can’t sit still” by Julia at her desk

Thursday November 8, 2018
5 minutes
From the Beginning
Chelsey Burnside

I have a couple cures up my sleeve
for those days with the knocking knees
Where you can’t sit still even if you please
cause the mind is a buzz with a billion bees
I know what to do when you can’t cut through
the noise that’s been making you feel annoyed
so listen up here it’s the answer it’s the key
for those bumping hearts that are bursting free
Keep moving then if the calm won’t stay
it’s the right time to run if your legs shaped that way
there’s a river to be imitated
if your hunger got you far from sated
you can roll in and out
till your bones get tired and eventually
your nerves will expire
so run like the wind and kiss like the moon
the silence will be there when you’re
ready to tune in your inner ear to the inner light
and until then just keep growing your bright.

“The Movement project” by Julia at the studio

Thursday July 27, 2017
5 minutes
Sophie Spiridonoff’s artist statement

It all started when I was shocked awake by own heartbeat.
Yeah yeah, you want to hear how that managed to happen, well
get in line. You don’t have to agree with or
understand it, even. It’s more about respect, if I were to
choose something.
I had the urge to talk about the body-the relationship we have
to our legs or to our finger tips; our ingrown hairs
I always get someone like you who guffaws
at the underbelly of emotion. You are not an original
critic. All you haters are the same-you hate yourself
the most. I don’t have hate for my body and you’ve
decided you no longer trust me. It’s not unusual at all,
but it makes a movement impossible.

“Speeding through space…” by Julia at her kitchen table

Wednesday October 29, 2014
5 minutes
Leaves of Grass
Walt Whitman

Like a rocket on fire and a mission to complete
You go straight for the chest
Exploding it open
Right through to the heart
Pumping life blood
Pumping patience
You stare at it with the first quietness you’ve ever had
You watch it thud
You watch it pulse
You fall in love with it
All its depth
And all its power
Your burning mission now over
Your new mission
To hold it
To help it
To protect it
To fix it
You put aside your invasive tools
You throw away your distraction manual
And you wait until it’s ready for you

“Speeding through space…” by Sasha on her couch

Wednesday October 29, 2014
5 minutes
Leaves of Grass
Walt Whitman

There you are
Speeding through space
Reminding yourself of your favourite childhood mug
The one with the small red flowers and the round handle perfect for your thumb
There you go
Leaving again
Not looking back
All of your best things stored in boxes and taped with tape
Maybe dusty now
But who knows
There you are
Shaking hands with a man dressed in grey
Looking him in his eyes and trying to see if he’s telling the truth
He’s telling the truth?
There you are
Making jokes like you know the language here
Putting your hands in your pockets and feeling for change
Telling me that you’ve never been so in love
Whistling a song your father used to sing

“black and white” by Julia at her desk

Sunday, January 6, 2013
5 minutes
The Art of Dramatic Writing
Lajos Egri

Patti Oliver’s face is half black and half white. She wears face paint every day and she looks like a giant ying yang with her nose as the little squiggly line. It works perfectly because her nose is a bit squiggly looking to begin with.
My mother said she was hit in the face with a baseball but I think it’s because she’s just supposed to look like a ying yang.
She doesn’t speak much. She lets her face be the centre piece and the conversation starter. My father calls her a hippy and says she’s too into “movements”. My mother says she’s brave for being so bold.
I hate to admit but I’ve never actually spoken to her. I don’t want her face to scrunch up and ruin the pretty design. The pretty sign of peace and I’m sure for her initially, equality. Her parents aren’t even interracial so she’s really just doing it on her own. I think I respect her. People don’t know what colour she even is anymore because somehow her hands are always covered.
I think it’s deliberate. My father thinks it’s lazy. He actually thinks she just doesn’t wash her body ever but obviously she does. She kind of has to. All the paint smudging on your pillow case would really be annoying to have to clean all the time. My mother says to my father, “Rich, it’s a statement, so shut up about it.”