Breathless
Eighty-three years ago today I came into the world blue in the face. (No, not because of the political situation in Europe in 1933). The midwife had to untangle the umbilical cord from around my neck before I could gasp for my first breath. It was a home-delivery and she then gave me sips of brandy from a spoon! Ah, there you are then, my family likes to joke - with the characteristic Perryman sense of humour - that explains the brain-damage. That first struggle to make myself heard and seen was to be one of many over the years and I haven't finished yet! That's an artist's lot.
So I'm still breathless, racing against time, to give creative form to so many more ideas before my time runs out, yet I'm also pleasantly surprised that I'm still going strong. Happy to have found my form in time-based art: in live kinetic painting, cradled in music. It's quite a challenge, but I love it. But why do you make life so difficult for yourself, they say. Um, I was born that way, ha, ha. Actually, kinetic painting is probably the ideal therapy for me. Not only does it boost my dopamine levels. As any Asian calligrapher will tell you, it's your breathing that gives every stroke of your brush beauty and power.
My own performing art-form is, by its very nature, continuously moving on, passing by, short-lived. Afterwards, there's nothing left, just like music. What a pity? Not at all. Life is like that. Those audio-visual sensations will live on in the hearts and memories of thousands who have watched my ephemeral art form. Yes, I do love it when a viewer (usually a woman) comes up to me after the concert and says: "you just took my breath away!"
Here's the link to some fragments (perhaps not the best) from the exciting Berlin Konzerthaus performance on April 25th, the first with Daniel Hope and Sebastian Knauer, introduced here in Sarah Willis' reportage on Deutsche Welle TV . You can catch me at 3.09 mins into the video and again at 9.49.
Our next performance is at the Schleswig-Holstein Festival in Lübeck on July 8th.
