SESSION #2
SESSION #2: SPINNING THE CLUEWEB
SESSION #2: SPINNING THE CLUEWEB
October 17
By 8:00 p.m., friends of the Polyjam arrived at the Locationhead, where a Co-Conspirator awaited them.
By 8:20, the procession moved toward the Sanctuary, a ten-minute walk.
The trees in the sanctuary were draped with participant-submitted paintings, already trembling on their strings.
Nearby, hidden needles and threads waited in mulch like buried instruments.
I introduced Polyjam, and a Co-Conspirator led a brief meditation to settle us into the circle.
Midway through the meditation, as the feeling began returning to our hands, one of our council members, ever so slightly opening their eyes (not the best meditator), noticed that one of the paintings in the trees had been murdered.
Thus began our murder mystery ritual.
Detective-friends of the Polyjam opened their envelopes, discovering interrogation questions and a needle with colored thread. Their task: to question the suspect-paintings in their field notes, then pierce the painting with their needle, and move on to the next.
STAGE 1: SPINNING THE CLUEWEB
GOOD EVENING, DETECTIVE.
A MURDER HAS OCCURRED. WHO COULD HAVE FORSEEN THIS?
(WELL, MAYBE WE COULD HAVE.)
(WHAT WERE WE THINKING, LEAVING ALL THIS ART ALONE IN THE WOODS TOGETHER?)
NEVERMIND. WHAT’S DONE IS DONE.
THE BEST PART OF A MYSTERY IS THE RABBIT HOLE IT OPENS…
AS DIRECTED, PLEASE CHOOSE A NEEDLE & COLORED THREAD.
THESE WILL BE YOUR TOOLS IN UNTANGLING THE MYSTERY.
(I DON’T WANT TO UNTANGLE IT. CAN’T WE TANGLE IT MORE?)
(SHH, WE HAVE TO BE GOOD. WE HAVE TO DO OUR GOOD WORK.)
DURING INTERROGATION, YOU WILL GO FROM ARTWORK TO ARTWORK, ANALYZING IT, ASKING IT QUESTIONS. STANDARD DETECTIVE STUFF.
take notes about everything you see, hear, think, & ask such questions:
how does the artwork appear physically? emotionally?
there’s something strange about it. ask it a question. what does it say?
hmm, maybe you need to build some rapport. tell the painting something about yourself. can you connect with it?
does it seem to be hiding anything? what is it hiding?
what’s it going to do next? don’t let it out of your sight.
no, no, i don’t think— wait. is that…? my god, THAT’S—
any other questions you feel like asking are permissible. you’re the expert here, after all.
questions from elsewhere may float past you on the breeze; don’t be afraid to catch them & incorporate those, too.
when you’ve found a clue, or some key piece of evidence, PIERCE the artwork with your needle &
move, with your thread, to the next artwork. consider where you pierce.
repeat, at your pace, until you feel you’ve solved the mystery.
For thirty minutes, the web wove itself. Participants circled the trees, interrogating the paintings, writing field notes. When evidence struck, they pierced the paper and laced their threads.
At 9:15, the interrogation gave way to deliberation. Detectives followed one another’s thread-trails, taking notes, asking: what were they thinking?
Then we all sat to harness our field notes into poems. Each detective became a prosecutor.
STAGE 3: (UN)HOLE-Y TESTIMONY
SO, YOU’VE MADE A SPIDERWEB OF REASON.
(PENCILED IN ALL THE HOLES OF MISUNDERSTANDING)
YOU KNOW WHAT HAS HAPPENED, DON’T YOU?
YOU NOTICE IT IN THE BONES. IT’S WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE.
(CRYSTAL CLEAR & GLOWING! HOW DID WE NOT SEE IT BEFORE?)
IT’S TIME TO PREPARE YOUR TESTIMONY.
ALL WE CAN TELL YOU WITH CERTAINTY IS THIS PIECE IS INNOCENT. LOOK AT THAT FACE. IT WOULD NEVER HURT A FLY. LET ALONE A BUNNY.
BUT KEEP THIS TO YOURSELF..
turn your field notes into a poem that connects the dots for trial.
LEAN INTO ABSTRACTIONS, DON’T FORCE IT INTO NARRATIVE SENSE.
MURDER IS HARDLY SENSICAL.
(OH, BUT IT’S SO SENSIBLE…)
GO ON, WRITE! AN INNOCENT LIFE IS IN YOUR HANDS.
At 9:50, the trial began. Poems became testimonies. Nine performances accompanied by accordion, shakers, güiro, guitar, cajón.
After the trial, the Co-Conspirators collected votes from the jury on who they believed to be guilty. Then, the true verdict was revealed:
Before us hang several figures in this tangled cosmology: first, a rabbit, pinked with blush; above it, a ghostrabbit radiant with halo...
The accusation concluded:
Chief Saint Michael, haloless & resplendent in pink, stands accused of celestial manslaughter in the first degree.
The court was adjourned.
The jury rested.
The clueweb still shook in the trees while we opened space for an open jam.
People sang songs, shared poems they’d written lately.
We made it back to the parking lot by 11 p.m.
