Sat. Oct. 30, 2021 3:30p.m.

Studio K

Patrons are requested to silence cell phones and other electronic devices during performances.

The taking of photographs and the use of recording equipment are not allowed in this venue.

already there

  • Director, Choreographer, Concept, Britta Joy Peterson
  • Co-Producer, Olivia Weber
  • Composer, Sean Doyle
  • Set Designer, Sara Brown
  • Lighting Designer, Evan Anderson
  • Dramaturg, Kristopher K.Q. Pourzal
  • Sound Designer, Bailey Trierweiler, UptownWorks
  • Associate Sound Designers, Daniela Hart and Noel Nichols
  • Projection Designer, Elizabeth Mak
  • Associate Projection Designer, Katerina Vitaly
  • Video Editors, Elizabeth Mak and Britta Joy Peterson
  • Costume Designers, Britta Joy Peterson and Olivia Weber
  • Director of Photography, Aaron Tucker
  • Camera Operation, Aaron Tucker and Jordan Betine
  • Graphic Designer, Katie Williams
  • Documentation, Lauren Jessica Brown and Amanda Blythe
  • Performers and Choreographic Collaborators:
  • Amanda Blythe, Carolyn Hoehner, William Keiser, Dylan Lambert, Sydney Lemelin, Candace Scarborough, Vyette Tiya, and Zoe Wampler with research and collaboration by Amber Lucia Chabus
  • Piano, Guitar, Bass, Percussion, Sean Doyle
  • Cello, Iva Casian-Lakoš
  • Violin, Jessica Bauer
  • Additional music recording and mastering, Bryan Campbell
  • Accessibility Consultants, Janice Majewski and Beth Ziebarth

already there was made possible through support from the DC Commission for the Arts and Humanities, the Mellon Fund through American University, and the generous donors to the 2020 McDermott Award Gala, hosted by the Council for the Arts at MIT.

Access the bibliography for already there at https://bit.ly/alreadytherebibliography

Dramaturg’s Note

by Kristopher K.Q. Pourzal

Being in artistic dialogue with Britta Joy Peterson is like white-water rafting: intensely energizing, fervently focused, and matter-of-factly collective. This isn’t to say that she’s not at the helm of her projects—of course she is, and intrepidly so. But her mindful navigation, attuned to our socio-political ecologies, serves to remind us that we’re enmeshed in relations even vaster than we might imagine. She wants us to remember that we can pay attention, that how we pay attention matters, and that taking heed is a kind of taking care.

In process for this project, Britta often summed up this ethics of attunement as: “paying attention to how one pays attention.” The pithy phrase may loop back on itself; but in practice it is quickly clear how attunement is already interpersonal, as I orient to everything that is “other” than me. If I pay attention to how I pay attention when I encounter difference, what becomes possible? What moves (instead of freezing)? What softens (instead of flexing offensively/defensively)? What remains open (which otherwise may have closed)? What might be bridged, and not in some facile way that papers over what’s irreconcilable, but lets us stay (at)tuned to each other through discord, disharmony, disjunction, or dissensus. In such fractious environs and high-stakes times, can we even dream of such an approach?

Of course we can.

One thing that gets in the way is that we cannot encounter our others as equals. Systemic injustice makes an uneven ground out of stolen land. But how might we tilt what’s already there in our hearts, in our minds, in our fiery spirits towards ongoing liberatory struggles, from local to global? This is a question of embodiment, agency, coalition, and relationality; it asks me to consider to what/whom I attune and how I (re)act.

In my many vibrant and circuitous conversations with Britta about this project, the word “dwelling” started to cling to us, seeming to capture some essential kernel. The notion of dwelling—of lingering, of maintaining, of homey structures and steadiness—might strike a strange chord for this moment, amidst the roiling convergences of a viral pandemic, climate catastrophe, and uprisings for long-overdue racial justice. Why dwell when we need to shelter, to flee, and to yell? But if we start from the understanding that we’re always already moving, another possibility emerges: dwelling-in-motion.

In fact, it may be apt to think of this installation itself as a dwelling-in-motion. What did it spring up in you? As you ambled, what was quieted, and what was amplified? Reflect on the many elements you sensed and what you made of these encounters. As you dwell in this rumination and move back out into the city, consider what you’re attuning to now. What’s tuning to you?

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