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| Image: Ema Edosio |
from
an email i wrote to another performer a few days after 'Will I still
carry water when I am a dead woman?'
(saturday,
april 20)
your
words are so important, changed something in me, opened something.
i
have been wanting to write about this performance but my body has
felt so exhausted. i know i wrote in my journal but it wasn't enough
and i haven't looked back at it again, and my mind keeps returning to
two moments (one of fear and one of survival...will write about
below). at the same time i felt/feel (as i did with beauty) 'now you
can do anything'. and yet i have this strange exhaustion which i hope
will pass soon....i imagine it's a combination of continued lack of
sleep due to wavering electricity + hot nights + mosquitos. the piece
itself was exhausting too...but can i be feeling it only now?
i
think you and i talked later that day about doing the performance
again (with more people) did that conversation really happen? i know
i was in a daze.
your
email reminds me of so much i was feeling. i think i mentioned this,
but this performance was the first time i felt that i might not be
able to do this. i was worried about everyone else. i didn't check my
mask's eye holes. i didn't test the weight of the water in my own
kegs. i didn't take the time to cut thicker pieces of fabric for
myself which i intuitively knew i would need. once we crossed the
street i thought, oh fuck, i totally fucked up. this will take an
eternity and i will be way behind the others and i may not make it at
all. pulling the water kegs by the ankles was intense (i too had that
same feeling about the strength of my legs...i knew my legs could
carry me and these kegs. after all, i had crawled with water kegs
before). but somehow the mask, which made it hard to breathe, and the
amount of water really terrified me. i have always relied on the
strength of my body. even as a young child i would challenge people
to races, including adults. i always knew i was a fast runner. i
could trust that strength.
and
yet in that beginning moment i doubted so much. i had to remember the
words i had spoken upstairs. trust, rest, trust. i learned so much in
the first five minutes. walking required my entire body (were we
actually even walking? it felt like something else). i had to throw
my arms ahead of me in order to garner the force to move. and there
were many moments when i lost my balance, it was awkward, it felt so
awkward to move this way. the fabric cut quickly into my ankles and i
couldn't help but think about slavery, slave ships, it was a
momentary flash that i quickly tried to dispel from my vision.
the
water kegs bumped into each other. i would pull with all my strength,
only to have one keg slide up against the other, momentum lost. in
that moment i thought how unnecessary it is to struggle. struggle is
a waste of energy, it does not necessarily produce results. it can
exhaust us and leave nothing in the end. how ironic. even after all
that work i arrived at the finish with one keg completely empty of
water. i had hoped it would leak out much sooner. and this was not
the keg on my right side that had been leaking so slowly from the
beginning. this was the keg on my left side. it remained totally full
until the last street. it was heavier that the other one the entire
way and it gave me no relief. and yet when i was almost finished with
the performance the water completely drained out. that was
disatisfying. i had journeyed so far, i should at least have water to
show for it. this was a lesson about struggle. 'struggle for what'
fela. ah. 'now your fault be that'.
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| Image: Ema Edosio |
(sunday,
april 21)
you
asked yourself, “am i a masochist?”. i thought about that
question, about the relationship of pain to pleasure and what it is
about it that makes us feel alive. controlled pain. also, the performance
was intimate but i think it was more self-intimacy if that makes
sense.
there
were even moments when i thought i should wait but where i went into
a deep survival mode decision. there were times when i was thinking,
if i stop now i won't make it and i must make it, even if the others
do not, i must. different from beauty where the physical connection
was so absolute, certain.
ALSO,
read Wana
Udobang's response on her blog
