Running Blind: The Tucson Border-Crossing Diaries

Day 2: Thursday, August 2, 2007

Disorder at the Border

Officially, boot camp starts at 1pm and runs until 8 pm everyday. But we are on Chicano time which means that things get started anywhere from 15 to 45 minutes late. The beauty of Chicano time is that it carries with it the promise of living life more fully in the moment. I have quickly observed that the first part of the day is lavished on greeting each other with abrazos (hugs) and besos (kisses) on the cheek, or strolling arm in arm while trading news and chisme (gossip) from the day before.

Since I hit town a day late due to my work schedule, the others have had more time to get to know each other than I have. But initial meetings among artists undertaking such creative enterprises as this tend to be rather direct and passionate. Individuals get comfortable with each other at an accelerated pace that would be unthinkable in a normal situation. Therefore, upon arrival, I immediately seek out the people I met the night before at the Surly Wench Pub, Praba, Laura, and Niña, and begin my own greeting rituals.

The workshop has been situated in a large industrial space near downtown Tucson next to some railroad tracks and across the street from MOCA, our host. The workshop space has been divided up into different areas. There is an informational area with chairs and sofas for our rap sessions, a place for our props, a place for refreshments and a large open area where we do our performance exercises. Four electric fans running nonstop mitigate the humid heat but the floors are made of splintery wood so we are advised to keep our shoes on.

Gómez-Peña walks through the door about 1:15 pm and starts to make his way around the room greeting, teasing and rousing the troops. He approaches me, gives me an abrazo and tells me, “Loco, it’s good to se-e-e-e you.” Guillermo should run for president. He has a warmth and charm that he pours into every personal encounter. He makes you feel like you’re his best carnal (friend) from Heaven above to Hades below. In his world we are all locos y locas, and he makes us understand that la locura (madness) is a virtue to be cultivated and practiced with a primal obsession.

Once we have all settled into our chairs and sofas, Guillermo outlines our first exercise for the day. He sits in his folding chair like a pasha, legs planted, wearing a black tee shirt tucked into black cargo shorts. The sleeves have been cut away to reveal his tattoos, and he waves a delicate paper fan to cool himself in the heat. His long hair is swept dramatically over his right shoulder and his eyes are lined with mascara. He completes his look with a pair of short black leather biker boots and black socks.

“To begin,” he says, “we will create an exquisite corpse; a choral poem; a fully participatory, non-academic call and response to the question, ‘Why do I do what I do?’ ” At first the responses come slowly. We’re thinking about it, trying to figure out what this game is all about. Then the pace quickens and people begin to compete with each other to make the group laugh. Someone shouts, “… to take revenge,” another shouts, “…to make myself sweat,” another hollers “…to get laid.” I just sit in my seat a little stunned. I don’t quite feel ready to jump in. For now I’m content to be a witness.

These initial ice-breaking sessions are followed by warm-ups and stretching exercises. Michelle, who is a member of La Pocha Nostra, takes us through our exercise regimen with the precision and awareness of a dharma drill sergeant. She looks remarkably fit and is. Those of us who aren’t totally in shape groan and flop around while the more limber ones among us whiz through the stretches.

The next stage of training consists of breaking down our tightly protected psychological and physical borders. Roberto Sifuentes, who has collaborated with Guillermo since 1991, conducts this part of the program. Roberto is strikingly handsome, tall and lanky. He dresses casually in shorts and a tee shirt. He doesn’t try to match the wild panache that Guillermo has and he tends to be more business-like in the way he conducts these exercises. But he has everyone's respect and he guides us with a confident hand.

Next, we practice running frontward and backward with our eyes closed. This is a trust building exercise. Members of the workshop stand by on the side to catch you if you go off the rail. Gómez-Peña stands at the end of the space ready to halt us safely when we’ve come to the end of the line. The backwards running blind exercise turns into a creative free for all. People are coming up with the most ridiculously crazy runs I’ve ever seen. I laugh to myself because it reminds me of the Monty Python sketch, the Ministry of Silly Walks. This is outrageous, silly, slightly risky fun.

Next we are divided into two groups and told to move together in formation like a school of fish. One person in the group must lead the others until the movement evolves in a different direction and someone else becomes the leader. Leading means initiating a behavior like crawling, shuffling, or hopping and everyone in the group must follow suit. Things become logarithmically more complex when the two groups collide and interpenetrate each other. I get frustrated and lose track of which group I’m in and I’m shooed back into place. Suddenly, our leader, Steve, takes off his shirt and waves it in the hot sweaty air. A huzzah goes up as the other fish in my school take off their shirts, too! I take off mine and start to wave it when then I notice the woman in front of me has taken off her shirt, revealing a black satiny bra. I turn my head as more bras become visible. Not to be outdone, the leader from the other group has stripped down to her underwear. We all sense an intangible shift in the level of risk and caution. Out of nowhere, we have arrived at the border between clothed order and nude anarchy, and it’s only the second day of the workshop. I know what’s coming next. Bare breasts appear and the noise level jumps again. The situation threatens to get out of hand when Mike, with Zen-like effortlessness, becomes leader of the other group and immediately ditches his underwear. From my position, I can see a maniacal gleam in his eye. Roberto abruptly calls the exercise to an end. Clearly, some borders have been crossed.

Gazing Blind

The exhilaration gained from participating in our group exercises, like the School of Fish game, is followed by an abrupt change of focus to interactions between two people only. Roberto instructs us to begin walking around in random circles. As we pass each other by we make eye contact for an instant before shifting our gaze away to the next person passing by. Wordlessly, we are supposed to eventually settle on a partner for the next exercise. After a few minutes of circling around the group I end up with Lisa, a professor of medieval literature from San Francisco

Lisa and I face one another just outside each other’s physical reach. We are instructed to lock gazes with each other and I begin to stare into her eyes. I’m somewhat uncomfortable but also have a strong sense of confidence in my ability to handle whatever comes next. After 15 seconds or so I can feel my body begin to tense up. Michele walks up to me and tells me to let my arms hang loosely by my side instead of holding them behind my back as if I were waiting for a command. As I gaze into Lisa’s eyes I realize I am searching for some kind of refuge from the withering effects of feeling almost completely exposed to a stranger. After another minute or so, Roberto says. “Without averting your gazes from each other, I want you to begin a dialogue with your partner using only gestures and movements with your bodies.” Lisa responds first by taking a step forward into my personal space and I feel a tiny jolt of excitement. Simultaneously, someone turns on the stereo and slow dance music begins to play. I feel awkward but I gamely return Lisa’s gesture by stepping closer, too. No! Wait a minute, can I take that back? Too late...Lisa places her right hand on my right shoulder and not knowing what else to do, I reciprocate by mirroring her movement. And so it begins.

Inside, my psyche is beginning to slowly squirm while on the outside my body clumsily gropes for movements and gestures in response to Lisa’s. I can hear Roberto’s voice telling us, “With your bodies, create images that are ambiguous with multiple layers of meaning,” but it seems to be coming from far, far away. What the hell does he mean? I want some examples, but no such luck, I’m on my own now. Or, should I say, we are on our own now, Lisa and I. After a series of movements, we somehow end up on the floor but we aren’t the only ones. Out of the corner of my eye, I see people are actually on top of and straddling each other. I feel a wave of anxiety pulse through my body. My internal dialogue is becoming surreal. I begin to feel foolish and exposed. My bravado has evaporated. Attraction, repulsion, guilt and pleasure are becoming one big jumbled up emotion. The slow dance song is reaching the bridge as I feel myself blush. I am struggling not to come unhinged. It’s a real struggle to stay focused on Lisa’s eyes. I gaze blindly ahead. The music reminds me of how awkwardly I felt the first time I danced with a girl. But I can’t stop, so I carry on while my mind quietly goes AWOL, abandoning my body to an ambiguous fate. When the song finally ends, Roberto brings the exercise to a close. I’m indescribably relieved. Sweat is dripping in my eyes, off my nose and down my back. I smile weakly at Lisa. Whatever it is we are feeling, there are no words to express it, so we simply exchange a clammy abrazo and wait for whatever comes next.

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