swag, swag, swag
What does it feel like to start a show?
How can fabric represent space/time and length?
swag, swag, swag enters the space as an "interruption" as I drag my body, creating a physical tool to roll out a red carpet. In addition attached to myself is the layered sound of screams.
Prior to this piece I had done a lot of research about the relationship between fan and celebrity. Through this I have archived sound recordings, particularly of young female fans screaming. For me these sounds captured a manifestation of adoration and desire. There was a sort of cycle I was trying to wrap my head around between performer and audience, particularly in the case of the celebrity. Who was performing for whom and where did fan service, desire and sex come into play?
How much of my movement should be my pelvis?
Or should I just use my chin?
What is our fascination with the failed celebrity? Or even the dying celebrity?
How should one drag their own body? What does it feel like to drag yourself?
As I watch Alexander, a performer I asked to pass as my bodyguard carefully roll me back up I am seduced by the idea of folding, folding the fabric, the limp body, or even folding time back until it was as if I was never there. There is a quote from Delouse where he speaks about the fold that I found integral to this line of thought: quote “when we look into the fold we can’t actually see the thing we’re looking at.”
I find it interesting that when I talk about this piece people still say to me “that was you? I had no idea.”