working diary

It is the butterfly in me that wants to be seen, so I go to the dance studio and later on stage to repeat my strange leg dance. If I stay in this cocoon throughout the whole performance I will probably get into a trancelike state, an ecstasy of near suffocation. But that is not the purpose of this dance. And although Sade’s protagonists would probably have enjoyed watching such, I decided not to suffer too much. Just enough to tickle a kind of thrill for the coming scenes. I let the dress fall down. Now I can see the audience and they see my white face and Marie Antoinette wig. We move from abstract to fictional character. Cultural connotations are enhanced. I want to give the audience material to grip on. They can sink their teeth into my flesh if they want to. “What a sweet but untouchable woman. What a desirable but angry female.” But if this new character doesn’t like their bite it will shake them lose and change tactics. Once the dress has fallen down and ass and pussy are covered she becomes shifty and all the humour is gone.

I have arranged the atmosphere on stage in a way that when I become still or stop moving I can slip into the frame of a painting by one of the old Dutch masters and drag some of their colours and lighting out and with me. I can leave these patches of memory to warm the heart of my audience.

The most difficult is the extended crawling on all fours. How to do that? The condition for this event, of course, is to wear the dress in folds on the back. Like that you can all get a nice look at my ass while I reach a certain high peak of decadency in my doing and in contemporary art of the 21st century. This overused crawling, that actually nobody is doing, and if then not with the due dedication is of such delicacy, is of such promising double-tonguedness, that I have to practice it probably till the end of my live.