ABSTRACT
On April 4 and 5 we had Ken Martin, mime, posing for us in the evening class. I watched him closely as he changed from one pose to another. Coming out of a pose was like deflating a balloon that had been blown up with some magical life giving gas. Then there was a pause as the human mime shifted his human body into what the human mind had contrived. You could see the mental wheels turning; you could sense a process of metamorphose like when a butterfly emerges from the pupa stage, or when mixing red and blue paint together and they become purple. Suddenly out of nowhere there was this pose. It was like being transported into a small portion of some fanciful world – just the mime's portion of it – isolated there on the model's stand. And he would hold that intense, fanciful preoccupation for ten or fifteen minutes. His concentration on that pose seemed constantly fed by some power source within him, so that, even as electricity flows continually into a light bulb to sustain the light, the mime's intention flowed into the pose, keeping it alive. And each time you looked at it, it was as if seeing it for the first time.
