A year ago, on June 26, 2021, my dad died. It was sudden and unexpected. Although I had experienced grief and loss before, this hurt was deeper than I could have ever imagined. This weekend, June 25, 2022, almost a year to the day of my dad’s death, I will be performing a new solo show titled Fish at the Bottom of the Sea (Fish for short) at the Alberta Circus Arts Festival. The performance is a combination of circus, theatre and sound that tells the story of Eve, a woman who is grieving the loss of her lover who has died in a fatal car accident. As the character journey’s through her memories, seeking closure, she navigates a tangle of aerial bungee loops which respond to her movements, sometimes suspending her in the air, and connecting her, like a membrane, to her past, her grief, and her pain. This might seem like a heavy subject matter for a circus production, but I have come to believe it is this tender, mournful quality that gives this show a unique ability to bring us closer together after being apart for so long.
“I offer you my presence.
I offer you my feet,
my calves,
my shoulders,
my knees,
my hands,
my lips”
-Nicole Schafenacker, Fish at the Bottom of the Sea
My team and I had begun work on the show in January 2020, a few months before COVID-19 was declared a global pandemic and social distancing protocols demanded we place the project on hold. The beginning of many stops and starts in our creative journey. And, each time I returned to the bungees or the play text written by Nicole Schafenacker, it was as if I was uncovering another layer of the fragility and vulnerability that this project requires.
Originally, this project began with another performer, Samara von Rad, and I was the choreographer. But with social distancing protocols, it became necessary for me to step into the role of Eve. Embodying the character not only as a choreographer but also as a performer, I noticed parallels in the text with my own experiences of loss and grief, such as my divorce and the loss of a friend to suicide many years ago. Then, in the context of the pandemic, we developed a different kind of grief, a collective grief which occurred as we watched the numbers of the dead rise within the isolation of our homes.
“It reminds me of sharks in the sky.
It reminds me of being upside down.
It reminds me of hemorrhaging to the brain.”
-Nicole Schafenacker, Fish at the Bottom of the Sea
My team and I carried on, as artists do. We rode the pandemic waves and in late March 2021 we went back into rehearsals during a residency opportunity at cSPACE, in Calgary, eventually taking the production outdoors as COVID case numbers began to rise again. That year we had hoped to be able to present a work-in-progress at the first Alberta Circus Arts Festival (2021), but the festival was postponed until 2022, and once again we were forced to wait.
Then, 2-months later my dad died and my whole world came crashing down. My dad was the one who introduced me to theatre at a young age, helped me learn my lines for auditions and came to (almost) every production I had ever done… and I’ve created some weird art.
Then, 2-months later a friend of mine, a brilliant artist, was murdered and I watched as his wife tried to pick up the pieces of their lives and follow their love story to the end.
“I lie in bed and
watch the sky
turning grey to grey to grey
as I turn and close my eyes to find
the empty space inside my body
where my memory of you exists”
-Nicole Schafenacker, Fish at the Bottom of the Sea
We were scheduled to go back into rehearsals in late March of 2022 and I honestly wasn’t sure I could move forward with the project. How could I go back to the world of Fish, the role of Eve, with all the torment and grief inside and around me?
Yet, even as my heart broke open, the need to share this work flooded me. I carried on because I felt this story needed to be told. I was driven by the belief that people needed a container for their grief, and their collective loss as much as I did, as much as I still do. We all need a moment to embrace the pain of loss, and to explore the unknown of what might exist on the other side of grief.
Now, almost a year to the day of my dad’s death, I am sharing this story of loss, outdoors, in front of a gathering of people for the first time in what feels like forever.
“I’m there.
I’m here.
I’m here with the slippery fish.
The slippery fish
who live at the bottom of the sea”
-Nicole Schafenacker, Fish at the Bottom of the Sea
Susan Cain, in her book Bittersweet: How Sorrow and Longing Make Us Whole, says sadness has the power to unite us, and “…longing is the road to belonging.” (28). My hope is that as Eve tries to find peace in her loss, so can we. As Eve wrestles with her grief, desire and death, so can we. And, as Eve cycles through her memories and tries to rebuild her world, so can we. We can be fragile and vulnerable and breaking together and see what’s on the other side. While the subject matter of Fish might seem dark and mournful, I believe it is this gentle sorrow that will bring us closer together after being apart for far too long.
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