Sylvie Fleury presents a new interdisciplinary installation, interweaving performance, sculpture, sound, and music in a live exhibition. For
JG Thirlwell will be providing a composition and live sound processing to Sylvie Fleury‘s new interdisciplinary installation Instructions For Twilight. The work was commissioned by the Performa Biennial and will occur on November 22 and 23 at Water Street Projects WSA, 180 Maiden Lane in New York, on the 39th Floor.
For Instructions For Twilight, Fleury “takes the history of action-based performance, including Fluxus and Happenings, as a point of departure to reimagine a series of scores with her own inimitable twist on gender roles, serving as inspiration for a performance combining action, objects, and sound ”
The work is co-produced with WSA and curated by Kathy Noble of Performa.
The day is finally here. You have quite literally been counting down the days awaiting this moment. Sleep wasn't exactly a commodity the previous night but that fatigue is hardly on your mind. The best hero school in all of Japan, possibly the world, is standing in front of you in all of its magnificent glory. Nature must be mirroring you because you swear the sun just got a little bit brighter. This is such a tremendous occasion, a three-year-long dream finally coming to fruition, so why can't you move? Your feet have opted to remain firmly in place, settling into the concrete beneath you as though freshly poured and drying around your shoes. The longer you stare at the gates, the deeper you sink.
"Hey," a grainy, yet soft and excitable, call bellows from behind you. "Congrats on making it in!"
Lifting away from the invisible chain and ball, you turn on your heel to greet the familiar voice. Despite recognising the voice, the face of this teenager is one that you are presumedly unacquainted with. His bright, red hair is the first notable feature, almost perfectly matching his eyes. He must use a lot of products to keep his hair in place like that. Your whole face crumples into a scrunch as you try to figure out who it is you're looking at. Names are something you have never been good with but you never usually forget a face, especially one that seems to beam like the sun itself. With a note made of your confusion, he takes a step closer and smiles sheepishly.
"Sorry, I forgot about the whole 'blindness' situation," he admits whilst extending a hand out to you. "I'm the guy from the practical exam."
Of course, that's where you know that voice from! Although, from what little you were able to see, you could have sworn his hair was black. Never the matter. It actually looks really cool, reminiscent of a certain Red Riot what with the way it's been styled. So, this is the student that oh-so-selflessly stuck by your side during your starry-eyed endeavour. It doesn't appear to you as much of a shock, he has that kindness behind his eyes: the kind of sweet nature one finds supporting a puppy's grin. If it weren't for this, you would be a sweltering, blabbered mess. Despite the red-head also passing the exam, you can't rid of the stone in your stomach, as much as it may have eroded by now. He doesn't seem like the type to hold a grudge or harbour any mallice but that isn't entirely the point. You were still reckless and someone could have gotten hurt by your hand. Speaking of hands, you should really shake his. You do just that and wave the other dismissively.
"Hey, s'all good! Glad I have a face to put to the voice now," you laugh in the hopes of easing some tension; there isn't any, it's purely your own anxieties you're attempting to whither. "Just need the name now."
He bares a bright grin as your hands clasp together. "Eijiro Kirishima."
"(Y/n) (L/n)."
Greetings set aside, your fingers return to the sanctuary of your rucksack straps. That's one name down, only 18 more to go. With both parties eager to start, you make haste in beginning your journey to becoming a hero and that starts with walking to class. The occasional conversation regarding favourite heroes and such ensue before a burning question takes the spotlight.
"I hope this doesn't come across rude," Kirishima starts, almost hesitant to ask, "but where are you from?"
"Guessing the accent is noticeable, huh?"
"You could say that," he concurs, rubbing the back of his neck. "That and you kinda blurted something out during the exam that I couldn't understand."
Initially, you're stumped, struggling to pick your brain for the aforementioned occurrence. It takes a second to rake over the memory and that pit deepens upon remembering why it was that happened in the first place. Yet again, if his focus is on what you said at the time rather than the event itself then that must mean things are all good. Yeah! The only one mulling over this seems to be you. That thought alone is enough encouragement to shine over the deep, blue cascade sunken into your chest. No more guilt. Not until you engage in purposeful wrong-doings, anyway.
"Well, to answer your question, I'm from England," you finally disclose, reassuring his apparent rudeness as a mere interest with a grin.
"That's so cool! Okay, another question then: why move to Japan?"
"I first heard about U.A. when I was 12, I think, and it just seemed like the right fit." You shrug and readjust your bag against your back. "I knew what I wanted more than anything in that moment. I've always wanted to be a hero ever since I got my quirk and U.A. is said to be the best, so I thought aim high, y'know? It took a lot of work but my parents and I moved over here a couple years back and here we are. Luckily, my Paps was raised In Japan, so we had that working in our favour."
That's an attitude Kirishima can get behind. Such devotion is something to be admired. It goes without saying that he was already impressed with you back at the practical exam. The fact that you were persistent in continuing despite your lack of vision made an impact on him. You won't know it but he was over the moon when he found out that you'd be a classmate of his.
"Your parents sound amazing!" he beams, in turn making you smile. "Not only that but to move to the other side of the world to become a hero? That's aspirational!"
"Hey, dream big, right?"
The two of you share a chortle before you're diverted to your destination. Upon entering the classroom, the abundance of colourful personalities is immediately obvious. A fair few seats are still awaiting to be filled but you may as well get acquainted with the current rabble. Kirishima takes the first leap in making his presence known with exuberant confidence. He introduces himself to an already established group, seemingly familiar with a pink-haired girl based on how they are talking with one another. The corners of your lips turn up with the girl's volume, seemingly ecstatic about Kirishima's hair change. So, it was different from before. You had a hunch.
Peering around, you can't say there are any identifiable faces on your end. You've been living in Japan for a few years now, which is plenty of time to establish bonds, but your background is, unfortunately, the reason you never made any real close friends. It must have been a stroke of bad luck but most of the students in your middle school didn't look favourably towards foreigners. Some managed to dismount from their high horses in giving you a chance but there was still an air of awkward tension with every conversation and encounter. Thinking about it, you recall a few students mentioning that they would be trying out for U.A. You would never wish bad luck on anyone but there is certainly a wave of relief at the fact that no one from your old school is here. Does that make you a bad person?
You don't get a chance to answer your own question, having been disrupted by a ruckus between two students. One appears to be scolding the other for resting his feet upon his desk, spouting something about being disrespectful to past generations of school attendees, you think. You didn't start listening to the dispute until halfway through the lecture, so you're a little confused. Part of you wishes you hadn't tuned in.
"Like I care," the blonde declares smugly, turning an eye up at the other. "What school are you from, you extra?"
Extra? Who does this guy think he is? This sounds like a classic case of main character syndrome if ever you've seen it. You try your best not to judge so quickly but this guy has a sinister energy to him that is hard to ignore. It isn't unheard of for heroes to don a more intimidating approach - Endeavour and King Orca come to mind - but this student seems like he's in a different league. The longer you stare at him, the more you feel like you've seen him somewhere before. Did he attend your middle school? Nah. With an attitude as rotten as his, you'd recognise him immediately. Was he in the same testing location as you for the practical exam? Not likely. You can't think of a quirk to associate with him and you always remember a person's quirk. Perhaps he's a member of your weekend roller disco. Doubtful. Something tells you that isn't his thing. On the news? Yes! That's it! He was the kid that got attacked by that sludge monster last year. A pride settles into your belly with your deduction.
"Hey! What are you looking at?"
Nevermind. Like a deflated balloon left out in the snow, that warmth in your stomach shrivels up. Eyes of crimson stare you down with an eclipsed annoyance and your spine stiffens. If it hadn't been for the fact that he's a fellow classmate of a highly esteemed hero school, you'd think he was a villain. Making enemies on the first day is a no-go. Making any enemies at all in this school isn't on your agenda, actually.
"Sorry." In the hopes of reconciling, you stand up straight. "The commotion just caught my attention."
"You should mind your damn business, foreigner," he sneers.
Your body tenses in tandem with your newly clenched fists, unable to withhold the bitterness burning in the back of your throat. "If you weren't so loud, maybe I would."
A curly plume of green shakes vigorously in the corner of your eye and voiceless sirens blare from the freckled face sat below. This might be one of those situations in which you should have kept your mouth shut. You don't typically like to sharpen your tongue, especially on strangers, but the unsavoury name spat in your direction hit a nerve. Too many times have you had to endure such name-calling, and too many times have you let it run over you like scolding, hot water. A new school means a fresh start and the opportunity to quit being a pushover. It's just a shame that this first test of courage is in the face of assumingly the most aggressive student in the classroom. He takes a step up from his seat, palms crackling like embers to damp wood. A fire quirk of some description? They aren't entirely uncommon. Guess this guy is a firecracker figuratively and literally. That's good to know. Looking as though he's ready for a fight, you prepare to stand your ground - not exactly how you envisioned your first day of school going but you never back down. Never.
"If you're here to cause a disruption, then get out."
Everyone's attention is tugged away from you to the outside of the classroom where a sleeping bag lays. At first, it appears to be just that until you see a haggard face poking from the opening. That certainly isn't something you see every day. The overgrown caterpillar lifts up from the ground, unzipping and a man who looks as though he's seen better days emerges. You're sure there are worse-looking butterflies out there. Alongside his rough appearance, dark clothing hangs from his hunched, lanky body with a thin, white scarf wrapped around his shoulders like messy buttercream atop a cupcake. He saunters to the front of the classroom, now holding all of your watchful eyes. You're glad that the fire between yourself and 'hedgehog hair' has dispursed - though he still looks ready for battle - but you are just too focused on trying to figure out who this strange man is. He can't possibly be a teacher. The teachers here are all pro heroes and he doesn't look like one you've ever seen before.
"It took eight seconds for you to quiet down," he continues. "Time is a precious resource. You lot aren't very rational, are you?" The question is rhetorical, of course, and he continues, "I'm your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. Pleased to meet you."
You are now truly realising that you need to stop making assumptions in this new school. Clearly, everything isn't what it seems. You're only glad that everyone else is as surprised as you are, the whole class practically screaming with shock upon this revelation. One query in particular stokes at your brain: If this man is your teacher then what is his pro-hero name? A puzzle that will have to remain unsolved for now as he quickly beckons you all to get changed into your gym uniform and re-assemble out onto the school grounds. A dubious request but you suppose you have no choice.
Once changed, everyone is quick to meet outside, each student being perceivably confused. There's something rather comforting about them all being in the same boat as you, otherwise, you'd assume yourself an idiot. The situation doesn't become any clearer when your teacher admits to this circumstance being a test of your quirks.
"What about the entrance ceremony?!" one girl raises hastily, ultimately expressing everyone's thoughts on the matter. "The guidance sessions?!"
"No time to waste on stuff like that if you want to become heroes," he retorts blandly. "U.A. is known for its 'freestyle' educational system. That applies to us teachers, as well."
He lists off a series of rudimentary fitness tests you all would have engaged in during your time in school. It takes a second but you have a hunch that you know where this is going.
"You did all of these in middle school, yes?" Once again, he doesn't wait for an answer. "Your standard no-quirks-allowed gym tests. The country still insists on prohibiting quirks when calculating the average of those records. It's not rational. The Department of Education is just procrastinating."
If it isn't obvious enough what's happening by now, you feel sorry for any of the students who are still in the dark. Tempted by curiosity, you take a quick glance and want to take pity on some of the bewildered faces. Everything will be revealed in good time, you are sure.
Your teacher turns towards that blonde-haired punk from earlier and asks, "Bakugo, how far could you throw in middle school?"
"Sixty-seven meters."
"Great. Now try it with your quirk." Aizawa throws a ball over to the student. "Do whatever you need to do. Just don't leave the circle."
Bakugo - a name that you shan't soon forget given what's about to happen. Why bother even feigning shock at this point? This is the best hero school in Japan, after all, and that only means that it's going to house the best students.
"Give it all you've got."
Bakugo grins darkly with the baseball in hand and takes a stand within the appointed circle. "Awesome."
I had the intention of getting this out a lot sooner but procrastination and writer's block are quite the combo. Not to mention, I had written so much that this ended up being split into two chapters. One might think that means you won't have to wait as long for Chapter three but this is me we're talking about :')
@sky-angel101
Also, also, if anyone wants to be part of this tag list, lemme know!
#project hail mary
#lana del rey
#photography
