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Disambigous immortality

The labyrinth is a Jungian symbol of the unconscious, the journey through the maze stands for the enigma of a discovery of ‘the Self’. This ties in with rituals and myths in which a cave is a symbol for creepy tunnels of exploration for the quest for knowledge or the hope to exit the cave metamorphosed.

The famous writer, Silvia Plath uses the symbol of a cave twice in her poem, Nick and the Candlestick. I was drawn to this poem after when I was working on my final project – an immersive art installation for my foundation degree in Acting Performance.

I didn’t know it’s meaning but I connected with it immediately. It is only in the last few years I’ve done more research into other meanings of her poem and startlingly it is seen as a poem that Sylvia wrote when she was pregnant. The tone of the poem suggests she rejects this baby. Sees it as an invasion of her body.

The cave appears to be a symbol of her womb.

Love, love,

I have hung our CAVE  with roses,

With soft rugs—

This poem partly inspired my final Performance piece when I was doing my Performance acting degree. I had my abortion on the 24/10/2010 & I had less than 2 months to finish my degree. It was a low ebb in my life. I didn’t want to give up so, I used my live art performance to try & make sense of what was happening in my life.

I found this picture whilst browsing on social media. It is a disturbing picture. To me, it appears like the girl is saying: I won’t be silenced. The blood-soaked at the bottom of her dress gave me a feeling of peace.

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The entire performance was a result of this picture, my intuition, making connections with other abstract stimuli and ideas that I could link to the original idea.

My aim of the live installation was to strip myself bare (metaphorically)  until people could see the raw, real part that makes up a part of who I am.

I wanted nothing to be hidden ( though I ended up having to adapt my initial idea due to a black eye given to me by an ex. I had to get more creative & I did.

I  felt /was so alone (everyone had turned their back on me but I thought ‘FUCK THE LOT OF THEM-PEERS, TUTORS FAMILY-EVERYONE’ I’m not going to let a black eye shame me not finishing my degree.

I don’t know why I called this project ‘Disambigous Immortality” perhaps I was going through the motions of grief. Perhaps I  was looking for clarity & not to be judged by my peers.

My original idea was to be filmed in a cave or be on a swing in a park, blowing bubbles, dressed in white like the girl with blood on her dress – I suppose I wished to emulate innocence. Blissfully ignorant. That is how I WANTED TO appear to the audience. I had it pre-recorded & I edited it to run on a loop (via a projector) during the performance.

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I wanted my space to be set up to mimic a church setting (with candles lit) and I wanted to be kneeling in front of the recording -watching it. This was meant to symbolise myself entrancing into self-actualisation or more likely self- realisation though this is the opposite of how I felt about what I was doing, to be honest.

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The more I researched my ideas, the more fascinated I became with understanding the unconscious reasons for the ideas I used in the performance. Even specific choices such as the fabric I used, colour choice, words etc..

I decided to use blue for the blood and wore a white lace dress I found in a charity shop.

The colour blue, in chines symbolism, represents immortality.

The colour white  (according to Chinese symbolism) symbolises an end to mourning.

The notion of wanting to appear innocent is because I wanted to appear lacking in guilt, and youthful in a blissfully ignorant way often related to youth

I think at the time I was coming to terms with having aborted my son, who would have been called, Nicholas Raven. I wasn’t prepared for the guilt( though I know it was the right thing to do at the time).

I was walking in the park the one day and I came across a blue feather on the ground and it made sense to incorporate blue feathers into my performance.

Nicholas would have born in spring -I told myself at the time that his soul/spirit/energy touched this mortal world in the medium of my body for a few months & then went on to exist on a higher plane -effectively not dead but immortal. That was my perspective at the time.

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I then came across Sylvia Plath’s poem ‘Nick and the candlestick’. -a poem was written when Plath was heavily pregnant. I  initially interpreted the poem as her feeling bloated vessel carrying a parasite. These feelings about her unborn child caused her to became depressed. Though I also understood that while she felt her unborn child sucking the life out of her-she hoped it would be born without her failings.

When I researched what lace meant in symbolism I came across a metaphor that I’ver never forgotten

‘Lace seeks to hide & expose at the same time, like a veil to cover or lingerie to reveal’

I ended up making a mask covered in lace -it was grotesque-ish & the opposite of innocent looking. It did hide my black eye though..

Its reality & it is in the past. I didn’t know I looked so bad at the time. Life moves on. 😀

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To be continued with reflections from the night of the performance.

Thorn between two roses

In the twilight of that mind,

Turntables blast out despair

 Unable to fathom out her own kind.

Two open-ended books splay their outward innards.

Hesitant to accept the possibility of another perspective.

Suppose there is alien life out there…

That we can conceive of.

An outcome for her resolve to never give in to her woes?

Roses feel pain when cut down by brutal shears.

Where are the moderators in this game of Divine consequences?

Have they too been bribed to ostracise the rest?

Recalled

A product rebranded a Rose.

Children toy with her parts, cut her hair, drown her until her lungs, over-bloated

Spew out flotsam froth.

A final rattle forming a bubble of foam.

Youth is fleeting

as a pirate’s final orgasm freeing his seamen to rest.

This flight became her ghost – it tormented her in a walking state of slumber.

When Rose was of a venerable age she sat upon her own Fate.

Ignorant to all counsel,

She lacked common sense for a daredevil debate.

‘Mere islands’, she would bluster.

An ancient mariner couldn’t deny that she was born to a concubine.

Made from unusual voodoo cut cloth.

She mixed rarely with other groups

Outside of Fear

For impending wrath.

Her weeping congealed by third-degree burns.

Shuffling her feet- rarely led to any sudden about upturn.

What prompted Rose to behave in such a manner?

Emotional intelligence IQ lower than an abyss in Alabama?

Regret staggers not long after

Rose’s final walk down the marching plank.

Swords of sleeted ice pierce into her back.

She ignores all those gallant enough to help her find her to her new abode.

She has the the secret code to,the Outlaw, of the conquered seas.

Why put the world on pause when time is has its own entity?

Reality is indendant of thought.

Passionate.

Highly astute.

She thrashes about with the sense of an insecure perception of identity.

The FATAL FLAW for love on the grandest vessel

She sunk to her final resting place –

the bottom of the plastic strewn, infested seabed.

The day she allowed this rogue to assault her

Though she did plea;

Her screams were ignored-complicit to acquiesce.

Love is partly veiled.

One can’t see through the composition of the waves.

She casts one final look around,

She sees the world in all its chaos- divided into self destruct.

We don’t have love!

How can we summon humanity?

It’s merely a spectacle!

A damning show.

She turns around and winks at the one who took her to his chambers.

She smiles;

wonders if this Outlaw knew that he was taking her soul’s ability to speak.

There is no ending to pain.

Only true bedlam can express her reality.

She is the thorn.

She is the rose.

-the one frozen in hell with her never-ending guilt.

Stags & Hens

Stag do’s seem to go back to the  Spartans, in the 5 century? Spartan’s afraid to get married?

Spartans! this challenge of taking on a bride is no ordinary scuffle in the arena. You will never win –

 Mwahahahaha – from the evil bride(lurking in the background)   from some  obscure adults-only pantomime

Okay….

Henry the 8 th was partial to oh I don’t know -say roughly 8 stag do’s in his time.

All his.

I look at him with a fresh perspective, he was just a wild party animal who didn’t know when to retire and let the young ones pick up the party where he left off.

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I could get really rude here and suggest an innuendo of a  she  be a  heading stag do?

I think. I would rather not go into that too much. Daisy has a filthy mind.

Soap.

Okay so on to  Hen do’s?

There is some research – it’s on Google  😀 that says that the word  ‘hen’ way back could refer to any type of bird.

Us “chicks” have been associated with augury -divination by birds since Greek times.  So, quite rightly, our Grooms- to -be would need to get together with there fellow stags to have a few beverages. If only to help prop the poor groom to be on the day or give him a few pointers on how to win an argument with his bride. Good luck with that one…

 In the East, henna is believed to have properties to purify us sinful brides and I quote

“…. and hold her risk free from the evil eye”

The evil eye, hey?

 Ah, of course, us ladies, over the centuries, have honed in our ability on how to make sure the recipient of our evil eye – men- make them feel the wrath of their inability to bring back the right colour box of tampons.

Are we that bad?

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The research on these stag/hen do’s are rather hazy – maybe that is the point. I mean I thought there would be tons of information on how and when the stag and hen do originate but not much is coming up. Only suggestions.

What am I doing for my hen night?

A cocktail making class with a difference.

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And my  beloved stag,

Well, it started with rock climbing- the only reason was so my hubby-to -be could laugh at his supposedly unfit friends – He is a cruel bastard isn’t he? 😉

He out right refused paintballing. He doesn’t want to look all bruised on the day. This coming from the same mouth who had to be dragged into a shop and forced into a suit on by his Best man along with the help of the best man’s wife!

The mind boggles….

Then it changed to a RPG night a the pub with a Ghostbusters theme!? That one went straight over my head.

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Last time I checked it could be a toss-up of bowling and a “historic”  pub crawl.  The difference is (according to my partner )a normal pub crawl is going from one bar to the next and consuming as much alcohol as possible and a historic pub crawl is visiting pubs with history and admiring the decor,as you do.

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A STAG DO WITH HISTORIC PURPOSE

 Interpret that as you may.  My partner doesn’t drink alcohol but hey? It’s his stag do.

His theory in the ‘historic’  pub crawl is not focused on the drinking but on the pubs themselves and  his  other stags company.

And I thought is was us ladies who changed our mind as and when.

I’m sure him and his besties will have an epic time. I intend to 😀

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(ALL IMAGES SOURCED FROM GOOGLE IMAGES)