Friday, 25 November 2011

Chapter 4: the final beginning

Saturday 19th November
25 Stratford Grove

50 minute performance

From day to day, how conscious are we of our bodily presence? The space our bodies occupy and the profile we project onto our environments and others? On a sunny day, we may encounter a distorted view on the pavement, or experience a sense of our bodily boundaries during sexual intimacy.

From day to day, we layer ourselves in clothes to adorn, conceal, conform, accentuate, disguise our bodies’ profile.  Do these garments make who we are? Do they determine the feeling of being embodied in ones own skin?

Take away these fibrous layers and we are confronted with our skin; the ultimate layer that separates us from the world. Confronted with this world, we embody this skin to protect, insulate, and classify ourselves.  

What happens if this skin, and the body it shrouds, feels diseased, toxic, filthy, foreign, possessed, dangerous?

What if the profile cast by such corporal form appears unruly, strange, deformed, unsafe?

Chapter 4: the new beginning explores the routine shedding of skin through the repetitive removal of apparel. It questions our subconscious consent or aversion to map our bodily presence, and the authority this has over our emotional and cognitive existence.

The mapping of the body in motion - changing shape and leaving varying weights of traces - holds a mirror up to our self, our bodies and our skin, confirming the flux we breathe through.


My heart goes out to all you who were present with support, love and silent affection. And of course, to 25 Strateford Grove. I love you Carole. You all made an indescribable difference to the performance; without you, this would have proved more of a struggle x



 
Photo by Kimberley Emeny


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


 
Photo by Kimberley Emeny


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


 
Photo by Kimberley Emeny


 
Photo by Kimberley Emeny


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


 
Photo by Kimberley Emeny


 
Photo by Kimberley Emeny


 
Photo by Kimberley Emeny


 
Photo by Kimberley Emeny


 
Photo by Kimberley Emeny


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


Photo by Arto Polus


 Photo by Arto Polus


 Photo by Kimberley Emeny


 
Photo by Kimberley Emeny


Photo by Kimberley Emeny



Post-performance:

Photo by Arto Polus


 
Photo by Kimberley Emeny



Photo by Arto Polus





Carole Luby on Chapter 4: the final beginning

It was damn nearly perfect actually. I take a while to let my thoughts assemble into some kind of object; which is made up of, duration, sure, solid, enduring, deliberate, purposeful, engaged.



Yes, at the beginning I felt irritated. How long would be those awkward movements, undressing, and wall marking go on for? And then, suddenly, quite unexpectedly, my mind rested into a rhythm that was between flight and fight. And I settled down. Into the obdurate and exquisite sound of the pencil on the wall.



Occasional forays into sharpening the graphite. A look on your face of pain, even terror at moments; a sensation of willing this all to be born. To be reborn. A feeling of torment and desperation. A body worn down with care, labour. A body enduring all the inner turmoil of not knowing, forcing and experiencing its constant states of abjection.



Beautiful. Quiet. Calm, even. A hush and concentration filled the small, cold, white room. A body surrounded by light, unconcerned with an ending; just a duration of movement in space.



An ending. A looking into the mirror. Us looking at you in the mirror. The mirror looking back at you, at us. All of us together. All of us not separated.


An ending. A pause. Time to leave. I felt very moved. Very loving.