Friends-with-Benefits with the City
None of that Carrie Bradshaw nonsense, where the-city-is-my-boyfriend. I’d rather act as if I’m in a slightly committment-phobic, painfully modern, downright permissive relationship with San Francisco.
So Saturday night when I took myself out on a date to see Super Vision, it was hard to feel alone, with a cityscape like this, which I swear I’ve passed over and over again, rushing from — well, I’m not saying yet, but usually, since me-and-here are just starting out, I still get that little rush from catching my reflection in windows and patting my hair back into wind-mussed-up place. I tell myself the wind south of Market only makes me look like I’m perpetually tumbling out of an afternoon hotel romp with the city. Can’t blame the weather for being wayward. Just have to love her As Is.
And Super Vision? I’ve never been packed in so close and tight with strangers while being asked to consider how under surveillance we think we are, conduct ourselves as if we are, and of course, how recorded and monitored we really are. Video projections glided across the stage on scrims, skimming the heads of a row of techs in decently plush rolling office chairs, seated before a bank of monitors. A bit like putting a start-up under the spotlight, only with a bassy-as-all-get-out sound system and a carefully rehearsed cast working off of each other’s moving images more so than their bodies. (Then again…)
Yerba Buena Center for the Arts‘ Fall season continues, featuring Diamanda Galas due in October.