- 1 Afro-American female
- 1 Obama dress
- 1 black male voice
- 1 dark stage or performance space
- 2 lights with dimmer switches
- 1 sound system with fader
- 1 karoake-esque sound file of the instrumental to Tracy Chapman’s “Baby Can I Hold You”
- 1 photo of Sanford Biggers’ “Demons” or live link to website showing work
- Various photos of Barack Obama
- Video clips of news stories on the election results
Medium light shines on Afro-American female. Behind her is a screen with an image of Sanford Bigger’s Demons or website that links to images of the piece as she talks.
Afro-American female speaks: Dear Sanford, Hi Again. Hope this letter finds you well. Am writing as I have written a “letter” to you. It’s a performance score that references your work and then responds to it. Am writing to get your feedback and see if you might be interested in being in it. Wouldn’t take much at all, just a quick sound clip. But mostly, I just wanted to make sure you were ok with the fact that I was referencing your piece…
Was looking on your website at that piece Demons yesterday. And started imagining that we were having a conversation about it. I was telling you how I had thought the Obama election was rigged, because the votes were “tallied” too quickly. And how I thought it was white America’s backhanded way of apologizing to black America without ever really having to saying “Sorry.” And I told you how I thought perhaps I came to that conclusion because in some ways it mirrored my relationship with my dad, who I just met a few years ago. I don’t think he ever said sorry. I always thought I wanted him to. But after we met, I never asked because it seemed pointless -words can’t change the past and I wouldn’t have felt better if he had. So I made him a deal. And now he calls me every week more or less. Sometimes he asks me to call, but I stand my ground and make sure he calls me. Cuz I know that makes things better.
Black Male voice: Really?
If he is physically there, a light comes up on his face.
If voice is an audio track, light comes up on DJ.
Either way, he is lit at a sharp angle, so that his features are unclear.
Afro-American female: [She nods slightly, and says as if she is confiding in him] Mmmhmm. That was [she counts in her head]… almost 5 years ago now. I’m feeling much better than I was before. You’d be surprised. I didn’t know, even -how much it had thrown me off in the head. Totally screwed with my love life, I had this habit of forming bonds with people who weren’t there.
Black Male voice: Hunh, sounds like a trip…
Afro-American female: Yeah, sort of a metaphor for his distant affection, you know. Imagining that on the other side of their silence was a deep spiritual connection. That, in their absence, they were harboring the seeds of a deep undying love.
Black Male voice: Hmmm…
Black Female Voice: In fact the farther away they were… [she pauses] The better…
If Black Male is physically there, light over his head fades to black. If his voice is an audio track, light on DJ fades.
Light on Afro-American female is raised to full. Lights in space come up.
Afro-American female: [Her tone of voice changes completely and so does her body language.] And then I stopped daydreaming. And I put my head back in my body. On 52nd st. In a Barack Obama dress [she rubs the Obama portrait on her dress]. Made in Nigeria. And focused on the present.
As Afro-American female straightens her dress, the DJ starts playing instrumental of “Baby Can I Hold You.” Photos of smiling Barack, inauguration, and the Obamas flash on the screen. Along the bottom, as if it is Karaoke, the words to the song flash. Afro-American female walks forward as if she is going to leave. As she does this, the lights on the stage stay bright, but the space lights gradually go dim. She continues to walk forward until she reaches a microphone stand that is in the shadows with the audience. She then turns to face screen and sings along with the words, into the mike:
“I love you
Is all that you can’t say.
Years gone by and still
Words don’t come easily
Like I love you, but you can say baby”
Afro- American female begins to scat the second verse. The words cease, but instrumental keeps playing and the photos continue to flash.
At the end of second verse, photos turn into video clips of “experts” asking whether or not African Americans will be satisfied now that they have “one of their own” in office. The video clips slow down until they freeze with an expert mid speech, mouth open. The instrumental stops.
There is a moment of silence, then Afro-American female sings acapella:
“Forgive me
Is all that you can’t say
Years gone by and still
Words don’t come easily
Like forgive me forgive me
but you can say baby…”
-Fin-
