Here's a letter based on a compilation of actual letters from Verna Aldrich. I found it hard to draw from the full gamut of her writings and represent the full complexity of their relationship while still having it be a convincing letter, since their relationship changed so much over time (from worshipful to resentful of Maud's taking advantage of her). This is from a more worshipful moment.
Darling Maudie
Well, I have had an anxious few days trying to get news of you-and I feel quite exhausted. This evening I got the cable and it is some reassurance -- I can't imagine you having gallstones -- you never have had. Maudie dear, I didn't know how much I love you until I heard you were critically ill. Now take of yourself and don't do anything startling, go easy.
Well, I have had an anxious few days trying to get news of you-and I feel quite exhausted. This evening I got the cable and it is some reassurance -- I can't imagine you having gallstones -- you never have had. Maudie dear, I didn't know how much I love you until I heard you were critically ill. Now take of yourself and don't do anything startling, go easy.
I know how hard it all is but you must be brave and carry on
like my little soldier. You have had a
wonderful life-and more than all else you are a wonderful person yourself and
you must not let a feeling of pity and lethargy overwhelm the real, fine brain
that is down under all this trouble-I don't mean your fame and all that
greatness-but every bit of you I have known has shown a great, marvellously
lovely character-and I want that to come out. Darling, you don't think I would
have loved you all these trying, worrying years if you had just been a vain
shallow creature-there is something in you that is great and lovely-that
overcomes! That is not mastered by circumstances but masters circumstances.
Now, my Maudie must overcome the circumstances of the day! The little girl in
you must not be afraid to cry-she must be great! You have a definite work to
do, now do it!
Yours always,
Verna
Dear Maud,
This was supposed to be a love
letter.
At first I
was fascinated and a little horrified by you: by your unapologetic sensuality, your
skin, your queerness, your blatant Orientalism, this aura of the “Cult of the
Clitoris” that smolders around your image.
But the more I came to know about you, the less I liked
you. I was irritated that you fell into
the trap of suing Billings for libel – for the unthinkable charge of being a woman-loving
woman – resulting, of course, in the destruction of your career. But more than that, I hated how you treated
Verna, your loving and devoted partner, using and abusing her, demanding that she
maintain those palatial quarters with money neither of you had, how you kept
her under your thumb, how you explicitly went against her request and asked her
relatives for money, compromising her relationship with her family. I wonder how your relationship with Verna was
affected by your relationship with Margot Asquith, the prime minister’s wife,
who funded those quarters for twenty years before stopping. I hated that you were a liar and a leech and
a manipulator. I understand changing
your name to escape the infamy of your brother’s murder trial, but pretending
that your parents were highly educated doctors in your autobiography? Manipulating the press the way you did? Your life is this nightmarish mix of the tabloids
and conspiracy theories, from your brother drawing and quartering women in the church
to your entanglement with the non-existent Black Book coupling gays, Germans, Jews, and
the highest echelons of power in England during WWI. It
feels, so weirdly, like the fake news of today, the contingency and precarity
of truth, the inability to tell what is real.
So where does desire come into play? What possible pleasure can I take in thinking
and dancing about you? How do I make a
piece that wants to be about women reclaiming desire for other women, about
queer pleasure, about flipping the script with a wink and a naughty glance,
when all I feel for you is disgust and revulsion? How can spending time with you be generative,
life-giving, fun, sexy?
In
South Indian bhakti there’s a tradition of the ninda stuti. It’s a weird,
wonderful, counter-intuitive move whereby you basically trash-talk god, and it’s
a form of devotion. Devotion through hatred
and enmity.
So
here is my invocation:
May
I disrespect you.
May
I take liberties with you.
May
I misrepresent you.
May
I seek revenge on your image.
May
there be pleasure in taking you down a notch.
May
there be pleasure in imagining you as you never were.
Let
this piece be my ninda stuti to you.
With queer disgust,
Cynthia
Cynthia
QUESTIONS:
-Would this be compelling to read either of these letters to audience members one-on-one? What do they add to the existing material? Do they succeed in bringing out queerness and queer desire?
Re: my letter:
-I think it's too long -- suggestions for places to cut? Maybe this line: "I wonder how your relationship with Verna was
affected by your relationship with Margot Asquith, the prime minister’s wife,
who funded those quarters for twenty years before stopping."
-The paragraph about desire -- while I think it works within the letter itself -- runs the risk of telling the audience what the piece is about before they see it. Thoughts?
A reference on ninda stuti:
https://nikhiletc.wordpress.com/2016/07/02/ninda-stuti-trash-talking-god-2/
Shy's Feedback:
ReplyDeleteVerna’s letter: it is endearing and sweet. The information info that I get from it is that Maudie was sick and famous and that Verna loves her. The line “The little girl in you must not be afraid to cry” is a little misleading because when I read it too fast I keep seeing “my little girl” and then start to think Verna is Maud’s Mom instead of lover! If we are speaking it, that might not be a problem as I’m sure our demeanor wouldn’t be motherly.
Cyn’s writing: I am most interested in the ninda stuti. I think it could stand alone as an invocation somewhere in the piece. As an introduction, or if we keep a section where we are moving the image on the cloth, or as a part of the projection on my (or someone’s) hand. When I did the study where Maud was on my hand, I felt like I was trying to speak to her…maybe it could be with this text.
As for the letter, I think you could cut this part:
"I was irritated that you fell into the trap of suing Billings for libel – for the unthinkable charge of being a woman-loving woman – resulting, of course, in the destruction of your career. But more than that, I hated how you treated Verna, your loving and devoted partner, using and abusing her, demanding that she maintain those palatial quarters with money neither of you had, how you kept her under your thumb, how you explicitly went against her request and asked her relatives for money, compromising her relationship with her family. I wonder how your relationship with Verna was affected by your relationship with Margot Asquith, the prime minister’s wife, who funded those quarters for twenty years before stopping. I hated that you were a liar and a leech and a manipulator. I understand changing your name to escape the infamy of your brother’s murder trial, but pretending that your parents were highly educated doctors in your autobiography? Manipulating the press the way you did?"
I like the paragraph about desire. It might give needed context for why we are doing this piece in the first place. But I think it would be fine without it too.
Interesting -- so you'd cut all my actual reasons for hating Maud but leave in my declaration of hatred (the ninda stuti)? The tabloid/conspiracy theory references aren't good justification for hating her, since much of it was patently untrue.
DeleteHere is an edited-down version of my letter, which my friend Scott helped me cut down. It assumes the ninda stuti would be used elsewhere as a stand-alone piece.
ReplyDeleteDear Maud,
This was supposed to be a love letter.
At first I was fascinated and a little horrified by you: your sensuality, your skin, your queerness, your blatant Orientalism, the lure of the “Cult of the Clitoris” that surrounds you.
But the more I learned about you, the less I liked you. I was irritated that you denied being a woman-loving woman in a lawsuit that resulted in the destruction of your career. I hated that you were a liar and a leech and a manipulator. But mostly, I hated how you treated Verna, your loving and devoted partner, how you kept her under your thumb, using and abusing her, demanding that she maintain those palatial quarters with money neither of you had. I wonder how your relationship with Verna was affected by your affair with the prime minister’s wife, who funded those quarters for twenty years. Your life is this nightmarish mix of the tabloids and conspiracy theories, from pretending in your autobiography that your parents were highly educated doctors to your brother drawing and quartering women in the church to your entanglement during WWI with that non-existent Black Book coupling Germans, Jews, gays, and the highest echelons of power in England. It feels, so weirdly, like the fake news of today, the precarity of truth, the inability to tell what is real.
So what possible pleasure can I take in thinking and dancing about you? How do I make a piece about queer pleasure, about women reclaiming desire for women with a wink and a naughty glance, when all I feel for you is revulsion?
With queer disgust,
Cynthia
Hi dears,
ReplyDeleteso I know the first/sweet letter above is a letter pretty much from Verna. I like it, I am I think a little confused about how the letters in the post relate to each other.
I think reading them makes sense. I like having a letter from Verna amongst the ones read. I am unsure if I would mind "giving away" the theme, because it all is still so "un-set"- but it's worth keeping in mind for when we finalize next week.
I really like Cyn's letter. It really accurately expresses what I ave been feeling and saying about being interested in making a piece about a queer-ish icon, who we cannot idolize.
I like it until the Ninda-Stuti, and I like the first version better than the edited down version.
I agree, Ninda Stuti is super interesting as stand alone. In the letter I feel it's a sudden turn to something new, which the letter cannot capture.