What are DasArts?


	Michiel Alberts, Michael Beards, Roberto de Jonge, Bram de Sutter, Djibril Diallo, Janica Draisma, Janica Draisma, Eibenschutz, Claire Fleury, Saar Frieling, Paulien Geerlings, Liesbeth Gritter, Jeanette Groenendaal, Gonnie Heggen, Christiane Hommelsheim, Robbert Kiem Hwat So, Cees Krijnen, Michelle Kurzenacher, Nadine Lavern Coles, Christiane Lopes da Cunha, Roberta Marques, Nancy Mauro-Flude, Ghani Minne, Yasha Musatov, Allessandro Nico Savino, Nicola Nord, Stefano Odoardi, Roy Peters, Marta Pisco, Janja Rakus, Kees Roorda, Sanchez, X, Ine te Rietstap, Betsy Torenbos, Nicola Unger, Mette van der Sijs, Wouter van Loon, Judith Wilske, Pepijn Zwanenberg,		name: Nancy Mauro-Flude title: Reflections upon my first two blocks at DasArts. text: While unravelling all my notes, a reflection upon my encounters at DasArts, I was listening to the BBC world radio, and a message was secreted to me, from a far distant realm. Actually, I am under no illusions that it was an encrypted tenet especially for me, in fact is was very straight forward - although I am certain the radio segment meant a great deal more to me than most others who may have been listening. A presenter was talking about sacred mediaeval gardens and how the waterfall in this space, symbolised a phantom. Architecturally the waterfall is the central exhibit and is a symbol of the phantom of the Virgin Mary, from where all life flows. This garden was a sacred space, a zone out of time, a place for one to connect with the evanescent qualities of life. One could use the garden as a retreat, but that is not what the garden was for. It was a place to rediscover what the world ought to be like, and to emanate these atmospheres back out into the world. Like any artistic practice, sacred gardens are a place for the imagination. In the same way, some performance makers believe theatre is merely a place to escape, but others use it to rediscover what the world ought to be, by working on a form to communicate their dreams and out of place, space and time experiences with the embodied social world. The concept of a durational sacred zone or garden is particularly analogous with my extra-ordinary experiences at DasArts. This is without a doubt a pedegogical experiental framework that I will continue to inform my practice by. In a time that I have termed the new dark ages. In place of the walls of ecconomic rationalist post-industrial society, this embrasing cacoon exists in Amsterdam to contain and protect the artistc development of the 'theatre maker' of the future. Its inhabitants are required to respected it like a type of 'cloister', and this latter name is actually given to the area where the archives, kitchen and staff offices are situated. The staff consist of an artistic director, a dramaturg, a secretary, a publicist, a technition, a production manager and a development/relations officer. Usually it is the case when a participant is accepted, she first completes a block. A block is an intensive period of three months based upon a theme that is created by a mentor - an established artist who shapes and facilitites this block by bringing in other artists to work with their chosen theme. The guests give various tasks to participants that are relatied to their particular area of expertise, this information surrounds and contain the artistic process for this period. This duration is then followed by another three months of participants 'tying up' loose ends, that is, consoliating ideas, rehearsing, learning a particular technique one might have found themselves needing to develop further during the block, in this period there are also compulsory individual and group evaluations and the writing of a report. If one is given the green light to go forth, from block to block, or into field work, this is a fully funded period of two years. English is always the default languge because of its international emphasis regarding artist participants and visiting guest artists. The quality of this energetic 'incubator' where 12 participants, a mentor, guest artists, staff and field workers circulate, both reflects and influences the quality of the individual's boundary of the self (or selves). It seems to me that the aptitude of this boundary may depend, at least in part, on the quality of early artistc technical development, and is necessary to an integrated contained sense of ones artistic sensibility. When it is weak, damaged or extremely permeable I noticed that the participant experiences a high degree of sensitivity to unconscious influences, and a lack of clear separation between inner and outer. But a foundation of a healthy rounded development period provides the security of a 'facilitating environment' (a term used by Winnicott) within which the artist may learn to embrace her individuality and autonomy, without fear of loss of that continuity of being-ness which is the experience of self in relation to their habitat. That being said, most participants develop their ideas throughout two blocks and then go onto a year of field work. I suppose this would be comparable to an academic framework of 'course work', followed by a duration of individual research, with various presentations of these 'finding', whereafter one has the responsibility to mount a large production for their final project. This is a progression from a state of complete dependency to relative independence, and acts to establish an intergrated and stable artistic practice. Refering to human developmental patterns Winnicott made the observation that healthy integration develops out of many moments of restful un-integration, where "In the quiet moments let us say that there is no line but just a lot of things they separate out, sky seen through trees, something to do with mother's eyes all going in and out, wandering around. Some lack of need for any integration...Something to do with being calm, restful, relaxed and feeling one with people and things when no excitment is around." The ability to suspend in a state of un-integrated experience during a block, requires the presence of other select people who do not make actual goal orientated demands on the artist, but whose containing presence in the environment holds them through the moments of discontinutiy of sense of being-ness. For example, eating at the always communal lunch in my second Block I was asked by Alida, the schools artistic director at the time, how it was all going. I said I noticed the new particpants desire to hide in a corner to 'do their work' and she responded "AH you see, that is exactly what they shouldn't do at this time". I often experienced this wanting to hide in a corner and "get on with my work" rather than being exposed to the torrent of information that we were given on a particular theme by the different guest artists. I often felt like I was in the centre of a thematic crystal where many fragments and points of view were being thrown at me by all who where in my presence. This was especially prevailant in block 16, as the glass house and machine room spaces occupied during the block by collaborators, actively investigated the possibility of a new sensory order. This ëclosedí space to the everyday world, was ëopení to the ether, the channels of the wireless network space The necessity of experimenting with new ways of sensing the world, this dimention as an extention of self, whilst I acknowledged the difficulty of the undertaking, was an important hurdle to overcome, in order to grasp the concept of a transverse wireless area network in which increasing private limitations on public air-space, the ether!, is a crucial subject. Questioning why all the spaces we travel have pre set meanings, preset motions allow us to only move along limited paths where there are fewer free, undeveloped raw spaces where we can let our imagination run free. I was a part of a community where experiencing beings (oftenvexed) penetrated and resonated through the membrane of the glass house, soup kitchen and machine room realms which I occupied for three months, from which I was inseparable. In these spaces, energetically and insistently, Shu Lea the mentor, wanted to eliminate an 'object' of study, the theme as the origin or foundation of our cognition, instead replacing it with a transcendental, collective subject; a community of interconnected investigators. This self-servicing proto-structure, created new considerations and challenges for those of us already with marginal orientations within the social sector. The reactions from some of the participants in the block reinforced for me that perception is not value neutral; as Macauly states, "the sensory order is bound up with the social and cultural order in ways which render it resistant to change". Shu Lea's setup was at times misunderstood by some participants who outlawed the blocks sanctity, thinking (consciously or unconsciously) her plans were intentionally autocratic. To honour the tasks asked of us, was not to accept authority, but to realise and understand the indication of the meaning of operating systems in the larger society that has increasingly designated meanings and presecribed uses. It is a situation that can only be acknowledged in commitment, pain and suspension of judgment. I believe Shu Lea did not represent authority, although she was certainly an extraordinarily spirited and feisty mentor, at times her gestures were unreadable because she could not give a simple answer to us about the state of affairs we were quesitoning. At times her contortions were not in reaction to the mere fury of the some of the groups unwillingness to embrace tasks or to follow through with their convictions in practice, in my experience it was in relation to the interconnectedness of the group by recognising that the malady of one belongs to us all. The main space occupied was the transparent glass house, which especially foregrounded the body through deep contemplation and endurance with kung-fu, tango, critical analysis, learning software, film, choreography, cleaning, drinking, eating, and so on. I personally regarded Shu Lea as the head priestess, making efforts to transform DasArts block 16, into an inclusive network, an open system where artists possible could gain a fictive family in a digital kinship community. When we tried to retreat in our dark little corners to hide away and work, she announced in reaction, that all space was held in common. Finally I came to appreciate that the digital media universe is structured differently than in dominant modes of thought, which results in the popular conception of a three-tiered universe, with the human world in the centre. In wireless area networks, the various entities that populate the universe, and the places they inhabit, are conceptualised as lying on a continuum between matter (meat world) and machine (virtual presence). The overriding focus of the block was communal, socio-centric rather than individual, and indeed, one of the highest compliments that can be paid to an artist is that she is acquiescent, meaning that she places the interests of the collective in the service of the mentor above her egocentric self. At the beginning of block 16, Shu Lea - the mentor, advised us to take a line of Hamlet Machine1 and "fly with it.". (photos of german guest teachers). One of the parts I treasured most from Muller's "Hamlet Machine" is Ophelia/Electra's message, carried from the watery netherworld where so many creative women have been banished and it wsa from this point I dived into a three month exploration and came out of it with the project called 'Sister O's operating manual for the heart". Much of the suffering involved in this process of the block was the mouring or the death of some part of ourselves, an old way of being that may have formerly served us well. For some, the training they had so painstakenly built up came crumbling down, but it is said by DasArts and also the late Heiner Muller, that new forms grow out of the void that has been left. Talking about Hamletmachine Muller said "When I wrote the text I had no idea whatsoever how it could be realized on stage, not the slightest idea...you can only discover the answers when you are grounding the work strictly in the text and insist on the text; then certain constraints will appear which may lead to new forms of theatre or a new way to manipulate a theatre space. But without this step into an absolute darkness, the absolutely unfamiliar, the theatre cannot continue." 2 The loss of that which we trust eg. visual arts, dance, theatre techniques, acting tools, theatrical conventions, play writing, directing, learned skills that held us in our vulnerability inevitably feels like a death, an annihilation of self which connot contain its fear of that which is beyond. The first block I experienced the theme was 'event horizon' this was also a revealing theme exploring ones boundaries, the terror of the unknown, an exploration into the underworld with Orpheous and Eurydice, when our consciousness and the archetypal depths begin to disintergarate. Our mentor Paul Perry was responsible for the creation of this block, which is a term used for the outer most layer of the black hole and was symbolic of things we cannot comprehend such as death and the void one may enter whilst creating a piece of art. These adventures into particular concepts pointed to the potental danger and tragedy of the theatre maker unheld in society at such times. The contact with other more established human beings, artists who can both witness us in this dark and hidden place and keep us connected to, or grounded in reality was essential to our theatre making process. It was very powerful, the theme was always in the back of my mind and it was always somehow comforting to reflect upon the event horizon simultaneously existing somewhere out in space. Without personal relationship the transpersonal experience could not be grounded and intergrated at the ceasation of the block. For it was a reality that is being witnessed in these states, a substantial reality that lies before and beyond the teleological ordering process of the art school/theatrical insitution 'star' system, which seeks to make the great tangible, the terrifying safe, and the unknown clear and defined partially in order to generate capital. In lieu of my presentations at DasArts, during the very short time I had been otherwise engaged in the working process, something often seemed to have happened to the movement, words and images I had strung together alone; they often did not feel quite as lustrous as they had before the 'interruption' of a public presentation. However, these presentations are a container within which the direction and ideas of our work can be discussed and enriched. This environment can also provide a pool of strength to oppose what is probably the greatest obstacle to the development of new forms of dance and theatre: self-doubt. No longer was I expected to deny an originality I had been taught to doubt, or disown whatever was different with me, for I was able to relate my practice to a decentered rather than a solid core. It confirmed for me that a person attempting to be an established artist must have the capacity of thinking of several things at a time. The time constraints of a guest artists 'workshop' or seminar are also partially responsible for the level of depth of one's encounter into the particular approach/s that are being pursued and the student's willingness to engage during this time. Therefore I noticed the impressive quality of the peoples work who embraced the block in an all consuming manner, meaning one arrived at 8m in the morning and would not leave their concerns, untill 2 or 3 am. In fact during the first block myself and a other few colleges decided to swap our time clocks completely we would rest from 5pm - 11pm, if we could at all, so we had time to work on our ideas through the night into the day where an obligatory timetable was to be adhered to. The emphasis on individualism and the ideal of the great artist/director had given way in many cases, to performing art as the product of a collective effort. This seemed to counter dehumanisation, in all its forms, that is characteristic of so much performing art and that has also made my cultural access to my own humanity more difficult to obtain. The entrance and exit to the block is always framed in a very specific way in terms of the instrinsic elemental qualities associated to the particular theme in question. Block 16, HUMANMATERIAL/MACHINEFACTOR began and ended in the water, a conductor of electricty, whos images have been pivitol in the collective dream life of religious traditions, art and literature. To begin we went sailing for a week on the IJsselmeer the Tjalk 'LibertÈ. No landing no electronics no mobile no net Bring 3 books of your choise Bring a sketchbook Present our work in the context of the spaces they where performed, installed, exhibited and it ended with in a swim at the pool during the nude session. In contemplating this specific period, water continually represented my own mental state, by means of this figurative employment of water which ebbs and flows through out all life forms. A quick glance from my bike into the canal on the Harlemmerweg, I witnessed each spring morning, a floating clan of ducklings growing into their own from nest eggs. Meanwhile I dived into the theme of the block HUMANMATERIAL/MACHINEFACTOR. Information trickles and spurts into my mind depending on the guest teacher, (photos) I grasp at their strength and vividness of concepts, which suddenly breaks and foams away and is pitched into the great lake of memory, to eventually be retrieved and formed in my own particular way. I measure my punctuality for the morning's kung-fu lesson by monitoring if the bag lady, who lives on the edge of the canal under the trees, has set sail for her daily adventures, or not. The way for me to keep afloat in this process, is by ceaselessly working to transpire and seize fragments arising from the block into a form. Endlessly working to get back to a clear current of action, then finally letting go, to watch clarity of mind soothing out the rifts. Complexly embodying the demands of the block, including the imminent water elements, it is not so surprising that the turbulent end of block evaluations, matches the expansiveness that water offers with it, the sense of the unfathomable, potentially cruel and unpredictable depths. Awareness of the environments debasement and pollution forced me to notice in the canal, next to the bike track, a large dead fish, hopelessly bobbing, day after day, during these evaluations. Unable to find humour in the gloom, nor revel in the parting threshold of this three month ritual, nothingness invariably overcame me. I experienced the sensations of collapse, a painful wave had tossed me up and crashed. The horror of this surge spread out over me, deep waters were going down the well of my understanding. This duration redefined my limits, and according to Peircean phenomenology Lewis writes that all experience has a mode of secondness, which appears to the self as struggle, as shock, as resistance.' It is this form of experience that may prevent people from wanting to open out and construct the world just as they might want or imagine it to be. This was my trepidation at life, and refusal to accept my flickering identity in the prevalent material word, but it was also a rite as I was galvanising my convictions as artist and experiencing an insightful time of metamorphosis. I often reflected upon Kleist's comments about the unbearable fact of ourembodiment is that we contain, "the inertia of matter, the property most resistant to dance (1988:7)" to movement. Moreover, corresponding changes brought about by such an absorption through the body often present a degree of danger, C.S.Peirce claims 'that process of "beginning" and of "change." necessarily entails violence.3 Block 15 Event Horizon began in a cave and ended with an Ayahuasca sharmanic ritual, with William Torres or his sharman name (Kajuyali Tsamani) from House of the Jaguar, the Fundacion de Investigaciones Chamanistas in Columbia. In block 15 I chose to rise against this state of affairs and I felt the urge to take my disorder out in the Belgium 'wilderness' and surrender by making the decision to go caving, a significant obstacle that was held for us at the very begining of my first block. I became aware my inner dialogue telling me that the decent into the cave would reward me with the sight of a beautiful glittering cove with stalactites and stalagmites, like the ones I have known as a child in Tasmania. I was very small then, and those flashing spirals and opals and luminous grooves seemed to me mysterious and enchanting illuminations. However, the real way I got over my vertigo for the emergent hurdle to descend 30 metres into the dark on a thin rope, was that I became aware of a kind of one-sided conversation going on in an adjacent section of my mind, quite independently from the actual trend of my thoughts. My interior dialogue proclaimed, "I not afraid if I die" and with that I crossed my theshold of fear and heaved myself, down into the cavernous abyss, that was in reality nothing like my dreamier and more delicate sensations provided by another cave game in my mind. When upon arriving in the cold wet blackness, inside my eyelids, I let my imagination play in a thousand dim ways with shadows, with the faint light that seemed to penetrate my cerebrum from some immense distance, where I imagined that strange, pale animals roamed down here in a landscape of lakes. I ignored the mentor paul perry reciting Maurice Blanchet 'Gaze of Orpheus'4. This fortitude may have had more to do with emotional state from an experience with a modern day long term Orpheus of my own, and the sept 11 response the day before I boarded an international flight to Amsterdam, than of my ignorance or courage to overcome my vertigo by spiralling of into flights of fantasy. However, judging by the strong sunlight that, when I think of the personal revelations encountered whilst ascending from the cave, this immediately invades my memory with lobed sun flecks through overlapping patterns of greenery of the outside world. This cave experience was certainly a template for the rest of our working process during the block at DasArts and through this I discovered the limitations of my habitus and the need for my own theatrical flight and fantasy. Opposite to my often dreamy, and impassioned navigations, I often worked with another particpant, a visually trained artist Hans Bryssnick, whose choices are formal, grounded logical and hard-edged, his theatrical aesthetic coarse in its visual simplicity. Often after 12 hour stints of rehearsal, floating and aimless wandering in the space, I often had the impression I have landed after a long spell of orbiting. The entire time was quite a inferno type of period and I'm sure a lot of it had to do with the sort of states that had to be, to be inside the process of block 15 and the memories that were conjured up as a development of the 'event horizon' theme. This way of trusting the logic of my own universe was inspired by guest Jalal Toufic's talk inevitability of the principles of elements, the interconnectedness inherent a set of constellations that are related to the process of choreography and film making. I learnt to really value peer relationships and how this prodding and poking can force one to be articulate, about ones working definitions that reconstitute themselves ceaselessly. I worked unceasingly during the weeks before the presentation, the questions I focused upon was would the object of my dance and the couch self-liberate? (couch photo) This was for me adventures in hazardous form. How could I transcend my humble origin? Form, got its revenge upon me, one Sunday that I spent rehearsing, was after a very turbulent week with my form-orientated collaborator. In this day, music was the angel that saved me and shed me with light. Jalal often talked about Schopenhauser who regarded music as an angel, because it is an unmediated presentation, whereas all the other arts are representation. Toufic also writes, "The power of music to move us (emotionally and at the level of muscular empathy) is founded on this ability to release us from the freezing; only those who died before dying know the fundamental sense of music that moves us" (1996:158). and often quoted Rilke "Who, if I cried out, might hear me - among the ranked Angels? Even if One suddenly clasped me to his heart I would die of the force fo his being. For Beauty is only the infant of scarcely endurable Terror, and we are amazed when it casually spares us." Meanwhile we watched the entire history of Nosferatu and Dracula films spanning back to 1890's. In rehearsal the physical plane, my intense labours were marked by a number of dim actions or postures, on and around the couch. Each of these broke again into fragments of no spatial importance; I was irrevocably committed to finish my dance or die, then there came the most trance like state of all. With hardly a twinge of surprise, I found myself, of all places, levitating horizontally on top of the leather couch in the cold, musty, studio listening to Dance Hall at Louse Point. On that couch I lay prone, in a kind of cave reptilian freeze, one arm dangling, so that my knuckles loosely touch the cushions. When next I came out of that trance, my arm was still dangling, but now I was horizontal on the edge of a piano, the costume I touched was real, and the undulating plump shadows of a dancing Copelia and accompanying wind-up toys on the tent walls - apotheosised crocodiles, oversized dolls - were rhythmically palpitating, extending and dreaming in dark pseudo realms. I relapsed into my private mist, and when I emerged again, I realised that I had made a piece of dance. Deceit, to the point of diabolism, and originality, verging upon the grotesque, were my notions of strategy; and although in matters of construction I tried to conform, whenever possible, to classical rules, such as economy of force, unity, weeding out of loose ends, I was always ready to sacrifice purity of form to the exigencies of fantastic content, causing form to bulge and bust like a bloodsucker continuing a small furious Tasmanian devil. In his profoundly perceptive note on affectation and grace, Kleist (1810) writes that "Paradise is locked and bolted, and the cherubim stand behind us. We have to go on and make the journey round the world to see if it is perhaps open somewhere at the back (1994:6)". A lot of the states of being that Jalal describes we would only really understand if we were schizophrenic of fully dead. Even though it exists in realities that we are not aware of now, after understanding that these strange states exist, for me, it is no longer necessary to explore those avenues. I'm not dead and I haven't lost the bordes of my mind. Now that I have more faith in death, I have more faith in life and I would like to try and leave it at that for now. The most important thing that Jalal re-enforeced in my self is about creativity. He said that, when we are creating we are actually creating a universe. The only thing that interupts this process is fear. He says "when you have created a universe you have to ask youself, how strong is my universe? Does it fall apart in five minutes? Or does it last forever?". In block 16, once again I was awakened to the fact that fulfilment is not a sailing holiday at ëClub Medí but an ever evolving and arduous journey of the self/ves against our perpetual hauntedness.5 According to guest artists Jane Castle and Linda Dement6 phantasms inhabit not the waterfall in the garden, but the machine, including the camera and the computer, 'who haunt not just the collection of images but the projection and distribution of them'.7 The realisation that most performance work is mostly haunted, unknowingly trapped inside the machine, or unable to exit the garden to communicate, was quite an encounter. And while I was treading turbulent water, these fellow antipoedians, arrived from the south. These digital sirens took me for a cruise into their dimension, showed me how to highlight the properties of kelp in dirty water. However, they forewarned that as artists we must be aware that; "as a part of the production machine, we are driven by the father like Hamlet, in his grief, is driven by his father's ghost. It is not what you want to do. You do it because it is embedded in the system/machine/place/social relations. You can go on doing it or you can become aware of it and reject it...it is the impetus of the father's ghost that destroys all. Valuing the father destroys the network." (my italics) So I came to understand that repetition of habits in performance is not a simple concept, as these reverberations open the body not unlike a fan, to reveal a complexity of other places, spaces and times in the network; the hidden database pitched into the great lake of memory.8 Underwater is potentially underneath hegemonic discourse, which allows one to communicate about experience that is unspoken. In my field work I am about to embark on an investigation into strategies of reshaping, and these fictional worlds, through inter-mixing live and online performance elements for local and remote participation. Since these blocks I am even more convinced that an artist must be a lucid thinker, a quick processor, who should have neither religion nor fatherland nor even any social conviction, but an understanding for contradiction and possibility rather than absolute skepticism. Certainly, the digital network is part of an evolutionary process that profoundly blurs the boundaries between humans and machines, because it allows us to understand ourselves as mechanistic expressions of coded, and therefore editable information. Radically rupturing, to operate as an artist in this zone is not merely subversive, artists simply may not need to depend upon the program which they question. But for the moment, all matter will continue to be haunted, but the phantom possessing the machines and its operators must be acknowledged in order for it to be repelled. To break the spell, is to act to sever learned customs and habits, an enduring pursuit. I do not negate my bewilderment about this, but instead, I learnt to embrace it in order to understand meaning as dynamic, volatile and open ended. Therefore, the act of coupling my practice with writing is a reflexive political act, both may begin a conversation with others, especially those who do not perceive me as I see myself. All these adventrues I have spoken about is consolidated by writing a report articulaing these experiences at DasArts into language. To illustrate the significance of writing, Muller writes that, "Literature participates in history, in that it participates in the movement of language which takes place in slang, and not on paper. In this sense literature is the people's concern: illiterates as the hope for literature. Attempting to eliminate the author is resistance against the disappearance of mankind. The movement of languages alternative: the silence of entropy or the universal discourse, which leaves nothing out and excludes no-one. The first shape of hope is fear, the first appearance of the new is terror. (1990: 118)" I do think that shifting language is a perilous and necessary crusade, because the beast of globalisation has began to devour itself, and we need a raw form of communication, a tool to help slay it. One of the main relationships of digital media and live performance is the idea that these softwares provide a zone in which one can interact with distant entities, carrying with me these out-of-body experienes into the embodied social world. Digital performance is a form of infinite complexity, because the whole structure in it is made up of so many different fragments, different kinds of perceptions that what hold the works together. Software such as KeyStroke can certainly transform dominant ideas of what constitutes theatre. With this renewed kinship of dance to contemporary art, that I have now learnt to accentuate in my working process, using software in performance means the basic elements of the theatre are questioned. Like when through the water's thickness I see reflections, fragments, distortions, ripples of sunlight. Water visits the plants and humans as equals sending upon its active and living essence. This internal animation, this radiation is what I, as a performing artist seek under that name of digital dance, space, temporality, writing, to provide a form that is generous enough to hold all those moments and abstractions of experience and potential. The big gain from my time so far at DasArts is the unfailing realisation that performance is an extra-ordinary place, a zone where one can discover a glimmer of what the every day world could be like; but one must attempt to come back unhaunted from the firmament, to terra firma, and communicate it clearly to others.