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Sitting in the Globe, our computer-area, on the 18th day of the spring-semester 2010 at Performers House I try to make out how I can best describe our first weeks here.
Mostly I think they were filled with questions; “what's your name?”, “where are you from?”, “which line are you in?”, “who are you sharing room with?”, “How is she/he” etc. Most questions like these are easily answered, but others demand more attention; what is performing really? What is art? And what does højskole actually mean?
Now these questions might never go away, even after all these days, a “let me tell you about højskole”- lecture from Lars, various Art & philosophy-classes, discussions and a great deal of late night-talking I'm not sure I can really answer any of them.
I do know performing is something we all have in common here - in whichever form we wish to express it, whether it's something we're here to learn or something that feels natural and we want to dive into.
I know art is what we're here to enjoy and to get to know - the reason the hallways I go through are filled with music; an intense guitar-solo, the smooth tones of a saxophone; the reason my gaze has to reach the ceiling before a spot is found where colorful balls or even people can not be expected; the reason I can stop in motion, feeling suddenly examined by a drama-student following normal, natural movements with obvious fascination; the reason I can not pass a studio without finding legs and arms elegantly in the air – much higher than what I find natural ...
And I know that because I know whose sounds are meeting me on my way, because I know the girl standing on her head will soon join the folks in the couch with a cup of tea, because these natural, normal movements of the people around me becomes what I know them by, because I owe the owner of those high-held legs a beer - I think I am starting to understand what højskole really is. But just starting.
Maybe I will have an answer in 22 weeks, when my stay here is ending. Maybe I will still just be on my way.
What I do know is that after two weeks here, among 50 fellow students, of some who are just getting used to a new home, and some who are familiar with the surroundings, but not all the faces, the atmosphere is relaxed, joyous and friendly. There is room here for intense practice, chatting and talking, random piano-jamming, spontaneous video-making and everything in between.
I glance around me, watching some of the now-familiar faces surrounding me. It's getting late and the area is quiet. People have been tired today and gone to bed earlier than usually, the tons of impressions, information and activities of the first weeks has set in. I remember I have to find a monologue and a song for voice-training. And what about the project for Idea Into Action? I take a sip of some very cold coffee, I'll need a refill before I turn towards the continuous flow of projects. But maybe I'll pass the café first and see what's happening, even on a quiet night there is always some up for a late night.
Tomorrow I'm going back to Århus for the first time since I came. How can I explain this place to my friends, I wonder?
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