I have a theory fetish

There is no system that has not another system concealed within it.

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performed for my review:
the above text is written in chalk on a blackboard.
I wear my clothes inside out and lick this text off the board.

extended version:
after every theory class I will lick the board (I will have to wait until the class has left).

Slip

slipping my tongue into your mouth to consume my meaning, struggling to speak around the words that were never yours to begin with, you wonder: what is left that is mine?

breath-bread-breast

I will bake loaves of bread into the form of a mold of breasts.

yeah.
(probably mine)

hiding number 1

Friday, March 15
Barrington, Harvey, Morris, Queen.
12:00pm to 12:20pm

This is a description of my first hiding event - for a general description please see the post called hiding.
I had seen this hiding spot as I biked by at night. It appeared to be a bank of bushes that were trimmed into cube-like forms about 3 1/2 feet high and spaced about a foot apart. These were planted along the sidewalk to mark off a boundary with the parking lot on the other side. When I had biked by I thought that hiding between the bushes would break ulp their uniformity. I did not notice at the time that the parking lot served a building belonging to the Canadian government. Nor did I think about the nature of hiding in bushes that divided a parking lot from a sidewalk, namely, being exposed on both sides.

So, on the day of the mission, dressed in long-underwear and warm outerwear for the cold, armed with a clock so I could meet the agreement to hide between 12 noon and 12:20 I waited by the parking lot until I heard the canon indicating it was time.
terrified, I assumed my position, curling up into a sitting position between the two closest bushes, their branches pushing in to support my back and crushed up against my knees. My mind was racing with the realization that I looked entirely suspicious and pathetic. I could be a suicide bomber and my little electric clock could be the detonator for a bomb (I don't know what service the government building provided, but I was afraid). A car pulled out of the parking lot, I felt sure they were going to call security or the police. I looked at the clock: 2 minutes had passed. I tried to concentrate on the leaves of the bushes and to relax into my sitting position. Why was I doing this? I needed to be prepared if the police or security arrested me. I am an artist, I am doing research into the nature of public spaces. right, ok. I heard people walking and driving by and tried to keep my head down and my eyes straight ahead - I was hiding, I was becoming an architectural object, I had to keep reminding myself that I wasn't doing anything wrong. Sounds seemed loud and threatening. I felt like everyone who passed could see me and had to choose whether or not to be worried for or about my strange behaviour.
I heard footsteps approaching and felt certain that the police were here. A male voice said softly, "are you ok, bro?" I looked up, and registered a man, not a policeman, a creepy looking tall man with long hair, sunglasses, a fedora, a trench coat, his purple-pink skinned hand swollen and dry from the cold wind, holding a cane. I think he was wearing cowboy boots and tight black jeans, I don't remember, I just remember my instantaneously appraisal of his appearance and the way I judged him - I was doing something strange, but I responded to his concern by seeing him as not proper, as creepy and different from me. I saw him with my fear. I realized this after he left. Anyways, after seeing him (in this horrible, judgemental, negative way) I registered that he was saying something to me and knew that it was something nice, not threatening. I smiled and quickly said yes, I'm an artist. As his concern wained I said genuinely, thank you for asking. He walked away and I tucked my head back down on my chest. I felt so embarrassed for arousing his genuine concern for unneccessary reasons. Art is such a fraud. Why am I behaving like I need help when I'm just hiding, I'm toying with peoples emotions, I'm a sociopath. I felt so bad and still so scared, and I was getting cold. I still was worried that the police would come.
At 12:20 I got up, cold, exhausted and dazed, glad to become invisible again.

hiding

http://www.thecoast.ca/1FreeClassListbody.lasso?-token.fcparcat=16139.112113&-token.fcchildcat=16143.112113

The body of work I am currently developing deals with the visible/invisible as a mode of revealing/concealing the space between what is ‘me’, and what is ‘I’. I am socially awkward, defensive, obstructed. I try to let other people get to know me, but there are boundaries, some that I can predict, and others that I just stumble upon as they suddenly rear up, and I withdraw, dismayed. What is ‘me’ is private: concealed, recollected as past memories and projected into the future. I invest in and believe that I am the owner of what I consider to be ‘me’. Conversely, what is ‘I’, is public: I exist in public through and for others in their presence and in the space and time of the interaction. This project will be a thematic exploration of safety and security using my public body and urban architecture to create a performance of absence.

I am proposing a public performance in which I will hide. I will set out the square city block and time-frame in a newspaper listing describing where and when I will be hidden in the city, in simple, concise language. I will then hide myself within this outlined space/time block, remaining outside, crouching behind garbage cans, squeezing into corners or ducking behind hedges. Once I find a hiding spot I will remain in that position until the allotted time has elapsed, at which point I will leave. I will be hiding on public property, the spectators/audience are invited to seek me. If they choose to look for me, they may choose to stop and watch me hide or to mark my location and action with a glance and continue on to other attractions.

I am choosing to physically conceal myself in public city space as a manifestation of what I feel like when I am in public. Public space is supposedly common space, any body is expected to be able to cross through it, no-body is allowed to occupy or own it. I protect my ‘self’ in public, to keep my ‘me’ private. I do not want to linger in public. I hurry home with my eyes downcast. By performing absence through hiding, I am constructing a reversal of my everyday experience of public space as performed, as well as my experience of being absent to myself when I am performing (being in public). By hiding I will be covertly attempting to become present in public, to reveal my private and personal self by publicly concealing my public body.

For those people who choose to ‘seek’ me, the experience of the public space of the city will be altered. Looking for me, without any features for identifying me, anyone and anything could be concealing the artist – architecture determinedly obstructs the ability to survey space, the audience member becomes aware of the hunting and seeking that occurs in any performance – where is the art/ist? In this piece I am drawing a parallel between my private ‘me’, and the phenomenon of private property. By hiding my body in public I am refusing to make public any part of my visible self, refusing to grant anyone access to my ‘I’. I am inserting my private self into public space by marking the absence of my ‘I’. The newspaper listing will project a public presence to create my public absence. Whether or not the spectators actively seek out my hiding spot, my presence is marked by a public announcement: a feeble, preliminary form of advertising to alert the readers of where I will (not) be.

existent / insistent

1) wear clothes inside out. wear underwear inside out on outside of pants.

this is gross and scary.

do I have the nerve to do this?

intro-duction

this is my general working blog.
I am creating it to keep in touch with people like Michelle, Sarah, Sheena even if you're out there somewhere.

Come check out the work that I will post, send me comments or refer me to some good readings.