Dear Movement Research: I love you and I always will. You rescued me paddling in a vast sea of personal change and wild inspiration. I had no fear and was failing to bail as I took on all kinds of water, from below for sure as I had worn out the small boat I had embarked with long before, and quite a lot of water from above which I took to be a rain of blessings. Rather than cowering and covering I basically lifted my face and opened my eyes, nose, mouth and ears, attempting to take in as much as possible.

And this I did. This we all did in 1978, somewhere in there, while picking our way through the traffic on Canal Street every day and most nights. Could not stop talking. About it—the infinite possibilities found in empty space, streaming with gravity, levity, grids, corridors, pools of nothing and all things well beyond thought. Not separable it all was—sensing, feeling, not knowing and even sometimes knowing. We agreed to do this thing together: make a school to school ourselves, to subvert, apprehend, accept and reject. To basically, declare! And be free! Alone together was how it was. And, it worked. It seems to still work. Anarchic! Moral and right minded! Defenseless, and somehow all victorious. Remains the artists mind projected onto the shared public space, meeting all kinds of others with open arms and a yes.

Below please find some memoir type articles I wrote through the years on my experiences with Movement Research. The “history” itself is held prismatically in the bodies and minds of a couple of thousand people now at least.