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photo by: neo muyanga
Neo captured PASS rug-rats jumping, crawling and doing their rug-rat thing in the studio the morning after the launch. They didn’t need to be told what to do in the space, with every adult outside enjoying a second breakfast they tore up the joint, filling it with laughter and tumbles from bean bags and couches. Last night DJ Mighty had to bow to his own Yogi, a kid I hear cries when his dad plays a song he doesn’t dig.
Great, seeing as how I’ve set it up here’s what I really want to say- the kids have it down pat. When they rock up they do their thing, they don’t wait for cues, no surveying of the space or the people who occupy it. Baby cadets know what time it is, what feels good to them on a gut level is what they put out. Simple.
Older cadets, well that’s another story. We had a visit from a sister calling to see the studio, she’s planning something- emphasis on something here- and just wanted to know what she had to work with. Great, we show her around and when she looks at the stage she half nods and half shakes her head.
“I guess it’ll do,” she says with a sweet smile.
I ask what she wants to do and get a “Oh, I don’t know just yet. I’ll try and see what I can do.
The stage ‘will have to do’ for a programme that hasn’t been planned yet. Ok.
I could just shrug it off and say whatever, its her gig. She’s chatty so I decide to keep her talking to satisfy the convo-ho in me. There’s a range of interests here, poetry, drama performance, music- I ask if she’s thought of a way to bring them together. Sort of, is the answer.
Here is a space that shouts, “PLAY, go where your imagination takes you” and ‘sort of’ is all one can come up with. I’m tempted (temptation is always a beat behind me) to start a whole sermon on how the stage as it were is not as important as the content, or that the folk in the studio don’t make up even a tenth of the listenership but I’ve already been punished for my Jehova’s Witness ways.
Having been blocked off Facebook earlier this morning, yes I’ve been labeled a cyber nuisance; I’ll leave the last word to the audio dramatist who quips, “There’s no gravity in space”
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