Paperhand Puppet Intervention

Saturday we got a cryptic text from Jenny: did we want to go to the Paperhand Puppet Intervention with her at the NC Museum of Art tomorrow? A quick online search confirmed that this was in fact a real thing, but didn't really tell us anything about what to expect other than giant puppets. So of course we said yes.

It turns out that the Paperhand Puppet Intervention is a team of local performers who synthesize numerous art forms-- sculpture, shadow puppets, textiles, song, poetry-- into a truly unique show, one dedicated to a love of nature and social justice. It's built quite a following in its 20 (21?) years here; at the beginning of the show they asked how many of the ~1500 people (outdoor venue with masks!) had made a family tradition of the show and well over half cheered and raised their hands.

I took exactly one photo the entire evening, and here it is:

The performance itself was incredible. It was very much outside of my typical wheelhouse, which is part of why it was so fun. It started with an invocation to the natural world, almost a meditative litany of thanks to the earth, the sun, the moon, the birds, the plants, all poignantly illustrated by stunning, enormous puppets and new age music. This is a photo from an old show, but it will give you a sense of what we were looking at:

The following acts really ran the gamut. Some were beyond my artistic interpretation skills, some were humorous takes on current events (we had a couple of giant noses running across the stage spraying each other down with Lysol), and some were touching tributes to nature and the human condition (there was a love song between two magpies that I haven't been able to shake since). Some was surreal-- a mewling cat in a tutu swirling around with a rainbow streamer and dancing with Chinese dragons-- and some was carefully spelled out so even boneheads like me couldn't miss the point. I especially liked one act that was narrated by a trio of native bees, which started out asking if we felt lonely or isolated (to which the kids behind us enthusiastically screamed "YES!") The performance then transformed into an appreciation of the underappreciated, the microcosm of organisms that surrounds us and carries out their work unnoticed. The entire thing was brilliantly choreographed, and certainly left me feeling more at peace with the world (and wanting to start a compost pile, but that's another story.)

The final act really clinched it in my mind though. I hesitate to say it was narrated, because it really was more like spoken poetry, and I can't begin to recreate the journey it took us on. It explored the importance of words, of not forgetting the nature around us or those who have left us, of standing up for injustice, and sharing our stories. The shadow puppetry that accompanied this piece... I have no words to describe the delicacy of the images and the flowing transitions from one to the next.

I always say that I appreciate something as art for one of two reasons: either it stirs my sense of beauty in some way, or I can recognize the skill and dedication that brought it to fruition. In this case (possibly with the exception of the tutu cat) it was both. I can't imagine how one would even begin to put together a performance encompassing so many parts-- costumes? choreography? music? poetry?-- and yet, somehow, there it was.

I'm not sure that the Paperhand Puppet Intervention is something I'd attend every month. But will I be there raising my hand next year? I very much hope so.