Moon light Laurie Anderson’s new work explores perceptions of time and beauty BY BILL RODRIGUEZ

Laurie Anderson’s latest solo performance, The End of the Moon, had an unexpected genesis. It was the product of her experiences in 2003 as NASA’s first artist-in-residence. A prominent techno-hip performance artist for decades, one of her most popular recording albums was titled Big Science, so apparently some decision-maker at the space agency — she doesn’t know who — was impressed with her as a fellow geek.

The newest piece is the middle section of a trilogy that started with a performance titled Happiness (2002). This second part shifts mood toward loss, taking a look at how our species relates to its planet and exploring our perceptions of time and beauty. The End of the Moon also contains more music than the first performance, partly because technology has made that much more practical. Anderson says that while her equipment used to require two huge trucks to transport, she can now carry all she needs in two briefcases.

Anderson spoke recently from her Manhattan apartment, while waiting for her Mac repairman to show up.

I was amazed as well as charmed by NASA giving you a fellowship.

I know. (Laughs) Amazing.

What focuses did you consider? With the subject of space, awe was one possibility, but perhaps wasting money?

Yeah, for sure. I don’t think they let me into those rooms, where they were really wasting a lot of money. Or where they were doing anything incredibly controversial. But I was so amazed to get to meet these people — they’re not on my beat, these people. They are really thinking about other things. They talk really fast. They’re really busy.

When they first asked me to do this, I really had no idea what it should be, and neither did they. So I improvised. Just went to a lot of places and talked to a lot of people.

NASA — there are some incredible projects that they’re doing, you know: building a stairway to space out of nanotubes. That’s Jack and the beanstalk stuff! That’s crazy. Electronics that grow like biology — it’s nuts.

How did you make creative connections with your NASA experience?

I tried to come with a really open mind and try to see what was there and be a good journalist and not look for what I thought should be there or what it could be but really what they were doing. So when I ended up trying to express that, I said, "You know, I’m not going to be trying to bounce light off the moon, I’m going to be doing a long poem." I think the expression on their faces was like: "Poem? [Gets nasal] A poem? Why?" I think they were pretty disappointed about that. But for me it was a great experience.

At one time you said The End of the Moon is about beauty. Another time you said it was about time. How did a theme emerge?

This question of beauty was the beginning of the whole project. I was living in Athens, because I was working on the opening ceremony for the Olympics, as the sort-of multimedia, high-tech artist — which is not what I ended up doing at all . . . . The guy who was repairing the Parthenon, we would meet him and he would talk about what it was like to glue together these pieces of this perfect building. And because the guy looks like Plato, I took him seriously.

After a while I said, "Look I have a question for you. What happened here? Because, you know, everything was invented all at once: philosophy, tragedy, drama, physics, sculpture, history. How come it stopped? How come we’re not 10,000 times smarter now? Why didn’t we just continue to expand?"

And he said — this is really amazing, I never forgot this answer — he said, "Well, at this time, you know, people were bringing statues as thanks to Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war, and they were parking them around the Parthenon. And they became more competitive about how beautiful the statues were. They got to be really beautiful — they were called kouros. And eventually people came to the Parthenon — because they came to pray to Athena — and they said, ‘I can’t pray in an art museum.’ " And that really struck me. They said, "Well, we’re going back to the woods and groves in the natural world where the gods come from. Not this stuff here — not this art museum here."

So it started me thinking: Can something like this incredible need to believe crush this spirit of needing to know things? And then I look around my own country, and look at my belief structures and what people believe as opposed to what they try to find out. And I stopped wondering why, because it’s all around you.