fifteenfingers

bellybutton

Bellybutton from Chloe Paisley on Vimeo.

Visual play I wrote for a mask I made in a workshop with Big Nazo.

(these are best heard on headphones)

First soundplay project, a confluence of influences:
Inner Monologue
(Fall 2007)

Second soundplay project, soundtrack for a puppet circus film:
Circus Soundtrack
(Fall 2007)

(and some images from the film...)

Note especially the long-legged umbrella man. He was originally built for my first ever puppet show (in a painted cardboard dryer box), in which he emerged from under dry and dimly lit autumn leaves in a quietly cooing forest - soundtrack thanks to Meredith Monk. All he did was rise....and rise, and rise, until at last he was only legs, suggesting just two more tree trunks in the dark woods.

Surabaya Johnny

"Du hast kein Herz, Johnny, und ich liebe dich so..."
(you have no heart, Johnny, and I love you so...)

A rehearsal of one of my very first puppet pieces. Devastated cardboard women and a whispery gasping handmade backdrop of sound.

When I was young, I had fifteen fingers...

Yes. I had three hands.
One. Two.
(...)

Portion of a piece in development for the Lost and Found Evening of Small Acts.

Conversation

Another portion of the Lost and Found piece.

Red Umbrella

There are many ways to lose oneself.

When I was young, I had fifteen fingers...

And another part of the piece...Do you ever wonder what would happen if your hands wandered away from you? This giant hand goes wandering at night, and finds a series of dreamlike conversations which it collects and carries home again.

Big Head

Final project for our puppetry class. We marched it around town with a boombox projecting extravagantly solemn Corsican chants, then silently set it up in the cherry tree and left it there. Hours later, at the scheduled performance, there were Toy Theaters in each of the eyes, and between the teeth in the mouth. Unfortunately, I have no pictures of the Toy Theaters.

We left it in the tree overnight. Periodically I'd sneak back to it and blink the eyes at passersby. One laughing group freaked out, found me, and demanded to know how it was done. (I taught them of course, and encouraged them to blink as often as they wanted.) When I checked back later, someone else had discovered the mechanism, and was playing.