STRANGER THROUGH EXHAUSTION
Delicate the line between that initial alchemy of the work working — those brief moments of revelation or epiphany — and something that might be repeated, even shared. The magic of discovery is not so easy to re-discover or re-enliven. The not-yet-working can soon become no longer. What worked before cannot be taken for granted, cannot be guaranteed. Towards repeating without repeating, avoiding things from becoming formulaic or stale. Forget a little to re-find, let go to re-capture. Yet there is always the risk of not re-finding, or of finding again but things still falling flat. The magic of art’s working is often carried on the wind of something extra, somehow un-nameable or un-named. It is not simply a matter of technique or repertoire, the procedural recollection of actions as with a recipe dutifully followed. Repetition works in mysterious ways, like the repeated telling of a joke that becomes stranger through exhaustion. The familiarity cultivated through doing and undoing can defamiliarise eventually if sustained with due care. Rehearsal can involve the polishing and perfection of a practice, or else nurture a confidence willing to allow for deviation and digression, for the possibility that things might fail. An iterative practice holds out for the breakthroughs that keep the enquiry vital, vivid and alive, attends to emerging differences rather than repeating to keep things the same.
From Emma Cocker, How Do You Do? (Nottingham: Beam Editions, 2023)