NOT AN EGG IN THE HAYLOFT
Wooden straps lay on the ground alongside a row of fourteen water-filled glass jars, and a large aluminum milk can positioned on a white table nearby. I entered the clean and serene room to slowly begin the process of weaving a basket from start to finish with those wooden straps, pausing part way through to pull out slip-casted porcelain eggs from the crotch of my long johns. I held each one of them up before slowly rolling them around in my hands. I felt the chalky outsides and then made my decision, placing them into the small jars one at a time. Five were left over. With no usefulness left, I smashed each leftover egg on the ground. Eventually dissolving, cracking, and breaking, the jars released the reddish milky insides of my eggs. I returned to the basket; it was an act of preparation. Once finished, I scraped the remnants of the dissolved objects from the jars by hand and placed them into my finished basket, before pouring the liquid from each jar into the milk can. A pillow was placed under the spout, the basket was held to my stomach with both hands, and then I opened the jug, letting the red liquid flow out and into my mouth. Swallowing, choking, gasping, as time passed and until there was nothing left. The red stained the pillow, my clothing, and the floor. The room was different; I was different; I was no longer clean and serene. I took my basket, surveyed the room, and then left the space.
What happens when you take into yourself what you’ve put out into the world? Utilizing the theme of the 2016 Tempting Failure Festival, ‘In-Utero,’ I hoped to investigate ideas of birth, abortion, gender roles, and time through my actions.
Created and performed as part of the 2016 Tempting Failure International Festival of Performance & Noise Art.