Amy recently produced a collection of experiences from people living in self-isolation and quarantine due to Covid-19. This magazine consists of photographs, drawings, poems, and prose all created in Vermont, USA. This project is a time capsule from first five months our lives started to shift in this global pandemic (March - July of 2020.) It’s an art exhibition you can take with you. Print copies are available now.
There are many things that we’re doing that no longer serve us well. But we keep holding on.
“52 goodbyes” offers us an opportunity to set free things we no longer need and let go of the structures and objects that we could become less attached to (convenience, lack of self-reflection, greediness). In this performance I sat at a small table with 52 envelopes -- imprinted with the word *goodbye* – and many sheets of paper, pens, and pencils. I engaged people with the question, “What could the world say goodbye to?” And then I asked if they would like to write their responses on a piece of paper — when they agreed, they would place the response in the envelope, wet the flap, and seal.
Ana wrote, “Climate Injustice: bring on the fashion revolution!” Thirteen people made note of the word “plastic” somewhere in their response. Fifteen-year-old Lee contributed, “The idea that women can’t have dicks!” in bubble letters. When Rick came in, I asked him, “What could the world say goodbye to?” He looked at me, looked away, and started to cry. Turning back, he said, “I can’t right now” and walked out the door. Forty-five minutes later Rick came back and wrote a letter to his mother, who was on her death-bed in hospice care. He wished for her to have the ability to let go when it felt right. Si wanted to say goodbye “to my own self-blame. For your own mistakes + faults because you can’t face yourself. I have faced you now just in time to know to turn away from you.”
“52 goodbyes” was simultaneously presented to a wider audience on Instagram, where 20 people submitted responses such as “Rigidity”, “... a lack of courage”, “corporate greed”, and “The patriarchy, duh…” I wrote these contributions down for those who participated and sealed the goodbye envelopes.
Once all the envelopes were filled, I placed two stools near the table with the instruction: sit, open the envelopes, read the goodbyes. For the duration of the show, people sat and read.
The Strand performance was created by Amy Königbauer and Honi Ryan to explore how vulnerability can be investigated in performance and by performing bodies. While two people support each other’s body weight in the fabric, they are blind to their surroundings. The performers in The Strand feel each movement that the other person makes and they maintain eye contact during the performance, though this part of the experience is invisible to the viewer.
The Strand has been performed in galleries and in both urban and rural landscapes to explore how the environment impacts the work, it’s been seen in New York City, various places in Vermont, California, Finland, Germany, and more. Most often, The Strand is performed by two people as a living sculpture but sometimes the piece includes a participatory element where the audience is invited into the work. 2016-ongoing.
A new iteration of this work, Expanded Strand, was performed on September 8th, 2018 at the The Carving Studio & Sculpture Center in West Rutland.
Photo credit for the black and white image on this page to George Angelovski.
Performed with the Vermont Dance Alliance in their show “Brand New” in December 2017
Engagement Ceremony is a moment-based expression of connection and balance.This piece works to create a silent bond through the joining of hands by it’s two participants. The vulnerability of each participant is key to the balance of the bond, letting neither person take control of the event. There is no instruction for what either person must consider, but the energies between them will determine how balance is reached. In Engagement Ceremony, silent connection is the culminating factor of exchange, at which point the participants will leave the event. The work is complete when the participants (independently or jointly) recall the event, specifically at night.
Engagement Ceremony text was written by Knayte Lander.
Shown at the Helen Day Art Center’s show Exposed in 2016.
Approach is shown using an interpreter who hands out envelops to the viewer. Choosing to approach a lover, a friend, or a stranger, participants open the envelop and engage with what's inside. Questions and statements written on each envelop create an exchange between the participants. 2015.
Participatory Performance in Marshfield, Vermont in May of 2014.
A participatory installation created and inspired by a poem that was written collaboratively with Knayte Lander in 2012. Video footage is below.
Funeral Lights
Thank you for coming to our funeral tonight
the stereo plays our signature song
while we search for that genius
who first felt
4
4
time
the parlor music in minor swells
rises like steam heat
til these beats fall from peaks
and drop so hard that the tender darlings dance
Chubby Checker in black says
"Let's Twist!" in the pyre
bull cats in leather jackets take their car keys out
drop 'em on the floor while the liturgy is sung
1961
lawless and immortal
they hit apples on the hearse
they hit cigarettes inside
tug the Reaper's coat tails
while the records spin all night
a chain of lights comes down
illuminating boot heels
to show us where we stand
you are humble in position
we are humble now in death
as above and sewn below
we push the clock hands back and forth
from past
to present
to future seams
the time we stitch is storybook
told from tales and captured here
the cloth will slip from grasping hands
become a welcome shroud
a moment passes
our loss is grieved
outside
long black cars with their rectangle flags
the waving party banners
orange crosses to the wind
they move away in the failing night
the traffic is thick and we ask you to stay
is there money in the jar?
is there wine still in the jugs?
one is emptied as
the other is filled
through the sonic architecture
we feel the humming lips of bells
divided by nothing more than rain
1...
we hear sirens in the distance
2...
we hear the women in
high heels spilling
3...
a vision through rain in
metered drops
an amplified sense of
4...
same
place
same
time
redundancy
we lose the count
anticipate the ground as the light slips away
let us have this moment
we will lose what we covet
as light shifts we realize
the exit
is merely the entrance
divided by
direction
and time
we are stationed in the corners
dressed to serve the wounded
whisper their names in our ear
those you grieve and those
who slipped away
Lou (gone)
Kirby (gone)
Pete (gone)
Estelle (gone)
Danny (gone)
Lex (gone)
to honor their passing
we write those letters on the wall
make a mark to mention them
and light them in this place
the raindrops are wine spots now
on the walls of scattered glasses
the women in high heels
have forgotten first sips
and the vessels that brought them
the Reaper is a ticket taker
not collector
nor a thief
he is turning the gears while
our claws
dig the armchairs that we practice in as graves
you cannot stay in this Chapel of Mourning
please take the jackets and car keys
continue
we take to the Unknown
no postcards exchange
a banshee song reminds us that the passing
was the first deal
that we made
when we arrived
and each thought we gave
to our own etched names on marble
would slice through celebrations
and put our backs against the wall
that is all…
