Preview Performance, May 30th, 2024.
Score:
Enter and undress. Jump up and down until failure. Bind chest. Re-dress and exit.
Embodied Account:
“I have just welcomed everybody into the space and ran to the toilet for the last time before starting my performance. I am nervous. I feel nearly embarrassed for the vulnerability I am about to display. I am overly worried that I will come across as overly serious and dramatic. Leading up to this moment, I have gone back and forth considering adding an element of comedy to relieve some of the tension of the piece.
But I resisted. This is a serious and important topic. This journey cannot be muddled down into something purely humorous. I need to feel seen, and I want to be able to be seen for others. I want to show the vulnerable weight of my tits and the fragile breath that support both me and them.
I take a few moments to breathe, attempting to center myself. I stare out of the project space window, into the stale Whitgift center. I meagerly stretch my calves, where I should have done some warming up.
I tell myself it is time, and I walk into the space with narrowed focused vision, and a clear direction to my actions. As I turn the corner into space, my heart beats loudly. I feel my body cannot keep up with the speed of my thoughts, feelings, and the task at hand all at the same time. I take off my top, where there is no binder, bra, or tape underneath. I hang it up on the hanger. My back is to the majority of the viewers. I then unbuckle my belt and slide my trousers off. I am not wearing shoes, so all that remains in my black thong. Which I take off as soon as I manage to hang my trousers. I stuff my thong into the crotch of my pants. My hands shake.
I walk into the frame of the projections, so that they fall against my body. I take a breath, attempting to center myself in preparation. My breath feels shallow against my nerves. I start to bounce my knees before starting to jump in place. Throughout this strenuous action, I reach points of ebb and flow. I tire and then convince myself to keep going. At points of exhaustion, I find myself hitting the wall behind me at my heels. Each time this happens, I shift my weight forward to correct myself. The light of the projector and the wall of tits in front of me are the direction of my focus, though my gaze seems to create further space between me and my surroundings. The light and images of my tits provide a reason to keep going, like a carrot dangled in front of a horse.
As my breath reaches its limit and my legs begin to fail, I find it difficult to decide what moment of failure will be the one that becomes the transition from this action into my next. To make this decision, I ultimately have to allow myself to fail. Accepting the failure of my capacity, with a kindness that gives me the permission to stop.
I’m now shaky with nerves and exhaustion. I take a moment to catch my breath, the moment is rushed. I grab my binding tape and scissors, and cut the tape into strips. I proceed to bind my chest, pushing the flesh of my tits away from my center to flatten them under the tape. I am sweaty and the tape will not properly adhere to my skin. It sticks in some areas, but hangs off my chest in others. Another point of failure, I need to accept at this moment. I stand with my partially bound chest, gaze forward, tired. I feel defeat and accomplishment at the same time.
Shaky and unstable, I redress and exit the room.”
Kars Dodds 