*recorded introduction*

Welcome to I Want to Be.

You'll be let into the room soon, where you will join us and everyone else who came today. We will not be able to see or hear you, but your presence is felt.

Before we begin, think of how you'd like to enter the room. Do you need a glass of water? To sit down? To be warmer?

Create a scenario in which you are able to comfortably listen for the next half hour.  A live transcription of the performance is available at iwanttobe.space if you'd like to read along.

----

The floors in the room are shiny, polished, black.  

These floors have a sheen to them, depending on the way the light hits them, they kind of glimmer and sparkle.  

The ceiling is a bunch of glass panels.  

The walls are made of orange industrial latex.  They're pulled very tightly so there are no wrinkles.  

I run my fingers through my hair.  

In the middle of the floor, there is a circular cutout.  A piece is missing.  

The room is cold.  

When you look inside the cutout, you can see a river running.  A steady, flowing river.  

I run my fingers through my hair and hold on to the longest piece before letting it go.  

I lie on my belly and dangle one arm through the cutout.  I reach the surface of the river with my fingertips.  

I lie behind you.  

The sound of the river permeates the entire room.  It's very loud.  

The floor is cold, but your body is warm.  

I run my fingers through my hair.  

I run my fingers through your hair, and then mine.  I try to tangle them together.  

I look at my fingernails and decide which one is the longest.  I bring that finger to my mouth.  I clip my nail with my teeth.  I toss the fingernail into the river.  

Through the glass ceiling, we can see the moon.  

It is almost full.  

In the river, we can see the moon.  

The reflection of the moon is warped.  It moves across its surface.  

I try to imagine where that fingernail has gone.  

The sound of the river echoing in the room has a plastic quality.  

Your hair is very shiny in the moonlight.  I sit at the edge of the hole and dangle my feet in.  The river tickles my toes.  

I start to sing a song we both know.  

That song reminds me of a memory.  

My voice also sounds plastic in the room.  

Your skin is very pale in the moonlight.  

I walk over to the wall and press my hands into it.  I want to see how far it can stretch.  

A small crack forms in the ceiling.  

My hair becomes staticy.  I feel electrified.  

The whole room feels taut.  There's tension.  

I run my fingers through my hair.  

My toes are cold.  I wiggle them and try to get some blood.  

I fall into the wall and it pushes me back, like a spring or a rubber band.  

Everything sounds plasticky.  

I come over to the hole, lie down, and dangle my head inside.  I want to get my hair wet.  

I twirl my fingers in your hair, creating a little piece of rope.  

The river is moving faster now.  It's roaring.  

The crack in the ceiling has gotten bigger.  That pane of glass is barely holding on.  

The river is running aggressively.  It is getting foamy.  

When the glass breaks, shards will fall down onto the floor.  It will sound plasticky.  

Shards of glass will splinter.  The latex walls will suffer tiny holes, removing their tautness.  

As we breathe, too heavy, the walls will come undone.  

I gather my hair and move it as a shield in front of my mouth.  

I hold my breath.  

I squint my eyes.  

I hold your hand.  

I let my stomach turn to ice.  

I pull us toward the wall again.  

My breath is cold and soft, like a breeze.

I want this room to pop.  

Our hands melt together.  

We lean forward, into the latex, which has grown brittle over time.  

I can hear you breathing.  

I want to feel the air change, the release, the shatter.  I want the room to pop.  

I sing a song we both know.  

We melt all of our weight into the wall.  

My voice is cool, like a breeze.  

The air changes.  

---

Thank you so much for coming to this performance of "I want to be."  New rooms will be created on June 26 and June 27 at this same number.  

"I want to be" was created by Anna Kroll and Chloe Engel.  The transcription was provided by Jason Charney.  The conference call operator is Alex Tardiff.  

Thank you, and goodbye.  

[End of transcript.]

*recorded introduction*

Welcome to I Want to Be.

You'll be let into the room soon, where you will join us and everyone else who came today.  We will not be able to see or hear you, but your presence is felt.

Before we begin, think of how you'd like to enter the room.  Do you need a glass of water?  To sit down?  To be warmer?

Create a scenario in which you are able to comfortably listen for the next half hour.  A live transcription of the performance is available at iwanttobe.space.

---

The ground is a soft grass.

The walls are made of Saran wrap.

Toward one side, there's a bucket of ice.

The ceiling is so high that while standing on the ground, you can't see where it finishes.  But hanging from the ceiling are long strands of silver tinsel.

The room smells like it's just rained.

I start running around the perimeter of the room.

I take a big, deep breath and hold it in.

The ground is soft and with every step, a bit of mud comes up from the ground.

I exhale with a hiss.

I reach my arms up toward the tinsel as I run, and my fingertips strike the ends.

A trail is left behind you.

It feels really good to run.

I follow my path.  I follow your path with my eyes.

I stop at the bucket of ice and pick up a cube.  I rub the cube on my neck.

I watch a drip of water go down your body and hit the ground.

I rub the ice along my hairline.

My head feels cold.

I rub the ice on my eyebrows and my cheekbones.

I shiver.

The ice cube has disintegrated.

I walk over to you and pick up another ice cube.

I tap my chest with my fingertips.

When my hand gets too cold, I slide the ice into the other.

I look up.

When that hand gets too cold, I slide the ice into the other.

The tinsel is swaying as if it were seaweed in water.

The ice cube has disintegrated.

The room is very hot.

The bucket of ice is becoming a bucket of water with little glaciers inside.

Water is condensing on the ground.  

Water is condensing on the tinsel.  

My heels are sinking deeper in the grass.

I plunge my hand into the bucket and try to grab the remaining ice through my fingers.

I lower myself to the ground, and lie down on my back.

I place the pile of ice next to you

I close my eyes.

Our footprints leave indents in the ground.  I fill them with water from the bucket.

Behind my eyelids, daylight looks pink on the ground.

The ground is half-mud, half-grass.

I reach toward the pile of ice, grab a few cubes, and place them on my stomach.

I twist my heels deep into the ground.

As I breathe, the water dribbles off of my stomach back onto the ground.  Tiny rivers form.

I want to be a tree.

I notice the tinsel moving further away.

I want my toes to interlace with the other roots.

I am sinking into the mud.

I want my branches to tangle with the tinsel.

The mud is hugging me, like another body's embrace.

I want to feel time passing from one spot.

My pulse feels heavy and complete, moving through my entire body.

I stand up on my toes, reaching, grabbing a piece of tinsel and pulling.

I am safe.

A strand of tinsel rains down.  I reach up and grab another piece and pull, plucking it from the ceiling.  It rains down.

I pull a group of tinsel as a bunch.  The Sun's presence in the room becomes stronger.

I jump up and grab a cluster of tinsel between my hands and I lift my legs up, pulling it down with a thud.

A gasp of sunlight enters the room.

I squint from all the light.

The rays are so intense they began to burn a hole in the plastic wrap.

I coil the tinsel into a nest.

The room smells like burning plastic.

I bury us in a nest.

---

Thank you so much for coming to this performance of "I want to be."  New rooms will be created on June 27 at noon at this number.

I want to be was created by Anna Kroll and Chloe Engel.  The transcription is provided by Jason Charney.  The conference call operator is David Guzman.

Goodbye.

[End of transcript.]

The ground is a fine, white powder.

The walls are made of blue rope that's been woven together, creating a loose netting.

The air is very still.

I run my tongue along the backside of my teeth.

I swallow.

I scrunch my shoulders up towards my ears and let them fall.

I cup my hand around your shoulder.

I rest my cheek on your hand.

Your ear is hot.

I close my eyes.

I place a fingertip on your sternum.

Light is coming through the netted rope and creating small discs of light across the powdered floor.

I trace my finger to your hip, down the side of your leg, and into the dust.

I rock on my heels back and forth and sink deeper.

I trace around your foot.

I buckle my knees and fall onto them, and end up on all fours.  A cloud of powder blooms around me.

Your hair is grayish.

Outside the room, people pass by and we can hear their conversations.

I lay down on my back and use my finger to draw an outline of my body.

I crawl towards the wall.

I spread my hair out into the dust.

When I reach the netted wall, I attempt to pull it apart, making enough space between the ropes to see what is out there.

I want to be a mountain.

I crawl over to you and whisper in your ear about what I saw.

I want to feel the seasons change, but I do not move.

I pick up a handful of sand, of powder. I scatter it into your hair like snow.

I want the border between me and the land to dissolve.

I take a large gulp of air in, and blow wind over your face.  The powder clouds around you.

I close my eyes and it is dark.

I place the palms of my hands on your forehead.

I want to be a mountain where people can come rest.

I press my weight into your skull, and watch the powder hug you.

I soften.

I gather your hair and twist it into a tight coil.

I want to be a mountain where people can wait.

The discs of light have disappeared.  It is now night time.

I feel the shadow move over me.

I grab your ankles with both hands and pull you to the other side of the room.

I feel the dust move between my fingers.

Your body carves a tunnel in the powder.

The whole room is cloudy.

I can feel the powder caking on my eyelashes.

I can feel the powder caking on my lips.

I search on the wall for an end of one of the ropes.

I exhale and create a gust of wind.

I pull the end of one rope, pinching the wall, separating the space, so that if someone were on the outside of the room, they’d see the center of the room pinching together, like an hour glass.

I am melting into the ground.

I watch your joints loosen.  The tension in you is falling away.

The barrier between me and the ground is indistinguishable.

I crouch down and blow the powder off of your face. Your eyes are watery.

My eyes are a spring, and I am a mountain.

I rest in your eyes.

Centuries of powder have collected in one spot.

I kiss your forehead.

I hear a familiar voice.

I grab part of the wall rope and I shake it.  I shake it, and I shake it, and I shake it, until it falls.

---

Thank you so much for coming to this performance of "I Want to Be."

"I want to Be" was created by Chloe Engel and Anna Kroll.  Transcription was provided by Jason Charney.  

The conference call operator was David Guzman.

Goodbye.

[End of transcript.]