Part VI: Morning Email

Photo by Juniper Shuey

Photo by Juniper Shuey

The morning after our adventure in the Lower East Side, I woke up late. Dinner ran to the late side after the five of us left eventually found a restaurant to dine at, where we burned through a couple bottles of wine before I set out back to Brooklyn with Zoe, who was staying not far from my Park Slope apartment, with a friend near Grand Army Plaza. When I got up I made coffee, wandered downstairs to pick up the newspaper, then obsessively checked my email on my iPhone. I had an email from Zoe. It was a forward of the email she'd sent to her brother-in-law regarding the rabbit-hole his inquiry about Trio A had led her down. She thought it might be of interest to me. It read, in part:

I started working with making pretty crude (i.e. not well made, not great materials, etc) plaster casts of the dancers bodies. basically i was/am going for trying to capture and sort of cauterize into space what i always, continuously see of the movement and their bodies for the viewer.  i started working on this for our piece at the Frye Art Museum last November.  each day i made more casts of the dancers bodies doing my choreography and hung them in the place where they did the action. they accumulated over the 7 days and the dancers had to keep doing the movement in the same space that this residue of their previous movement was now hanging. i wanted to see what would happen to my movement/choreography when the basic DNA was still there but the cellular structure had to adapt, so to speak. it was fun. i'm sending you some photos and links so that you get an idea of what i am talking about.

also i wasn't trying to make a stunning visual art statement or piece. it was about the fluidity of being able to quickly make tangible what i see in my mind so that the audience has the same framing that i have when i am seeing/making the movement and arranging it in space in time. it was a way to sort of get us all on the same page so that we could move on to the more nuanced, interesting, potent experience and potential of how all of this can/could interact.  the end point for me wasn't (maybe now, is a bit more...) about the object. it was about the object as a framing device to open up, further see the movement, video, sound, dancers, choreography, etc.

I skimmed it quickly and went about my business, somewhat blearily confused about what it all meant.

The night before, we'd quickly established that Michael Klien and Steve Valk's piece Choreography for Blackboards, although it too engaged the situation of the dancers' bodies in space physically enacting a work, was aiming in a different direction. They were interested in the idea of "social choreography," a reframing of the choreographic vocabulary as a language of critical inquiry into contemporary social relations and organization. What Zoe was discussing with her brother-in-law was different and, seemingly, going in different directions.

Her brother-in-law, a sculptor, was interested in how movement could reveal something meaningful about objects in space. Zoe, though, was interested in how sculpture could capture or enhance meaningful tableaux from her choreography. They were, in other words, working in opposite directions: He from static to movement, to explore spectatorial experience, she from movement to static to explore the same.

All this was, I admit, lost on me. It was Sunday morning. I had coffee to drink, newspaper to read, and the inherent stress of being unproductive as an embedded critic to ignore. But as the day wore on, I began to think more and more about Zoe's email. Not for its merits in and of themselves, which only came to make sense to me later. No, what I got to thinking about was how I was trying to make sense of Zoe's comments on space (as opposed to movement, which at first blush would seem more natural) in her dialogue with her brother-in-law. But there was already a visual artist working with the company on the piece whose voice's absence was increasingly glaring.

Where in all this was Juniper?

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Juniper Shuey

Juniper Shuey is a Seattle-based visual artist renowned for his innovative work in video installations, sculptural performance, and photography. Born in Santa Cruz, California, in 1974, Shuey pursued theatrical set design at Emerson College in Boston before transferring to the University of Washington to study ceramics. There, he integrated performance art with ceramics, leading to his exploration of video projection as a sculptural medium. 

Since 1999, Shuey's work has been showcased both nationally and internationally, including exhibitions in Italy, Budapest, New York City, Houston, Seattle, Portland, and Christchurch, New Zealand. His notable exhibitions include solo shows at the Howard House in Seattle (2005 and 2010) and participation in the Tacoma Art Museum's Northwest Biennial (2004, 2006). His work has been published in art books such as "SOIL Artist," "Lava," and "Fashion is ART."

Shuey has received several awards recognizing his contributions to the arts, including the Curators' Choice Award at the Tacoma Art Museum's Northwest Biennial in 2004 and the People's Choice Award at the Bellevue Art Museum's Northwest Annual in 2001. In 2010, he was a fellow at The MacDowell Colony, and in 2013, he, along with collaborator Zoe Scofield, received The Stranger Genius Award for Performance.

In 2005, Shuey began a collaborative partnership with choreographer and dancer Zoe Scofield, leading to the formation of the company zoe | juniper in 2006. Together, they create multidisciplinary works that blend dance, video installations, and photography. Their collaborations have been presented at venues such as Jacob's Pillow Dance Festival, On the Boards, Bumbershoot, Bates Dance Festival, PICA's TBA Festival, and the Frye Art Museum. 

Beyond his artistic endeavors, Shuey serves as the head carpenter at the University of Washington's Meany Hall.

You can visit his Instagram profile for a visual insight into his work and creative process.

http://www.zoejuniper.org
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Part VII: The Part About Juniper

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Part V. Interlude