THERE IS A VOICE THAT SAYS, SHUT UP. SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU WHO ARE STANDING AT THE EDGE OF THE ABYSS

Book-Performance, Chapter II

HÁ UMA VOZ QUE DIZ, CALA-TE. CALEM-SE TODOS VOCÊS QUE ESTÃO À BEIRA DO ABISMO

Livro-Performance, Capítulo II [2 hours]. Flexões Performáticas at Centro Cultural Banco do Brasil, SP, Brazil, 2018.
Reading Performed by Horrana de Kássia [BR].

Video Still.

When my son completed four months old, I started to write every day for a year – from January 2018 to January 2019. With great effort I force myself to sit in front the computer and write whatever came to my mind, purposely without a fore planned direction. Through this daily commitment, a sort of cathartic writings emerged. They were mostly narratives of my past and present life. They describe the transformation generated by the motherhood and the move to another country. They talk about violent dreams, my career, suppressed emotions, images of my family and my infancy. In the middle of it, I found layers of traumatic memories of racism and misogyny lost in oblivion. Situations that reveal the brutality of a system that silences and alienates minority identities: in my case, a Brazilian-Black-Female-Mother-Artist. An epiphany between memory, embodiment and language which I have been gradually familiarising with and decided to analyse and edit to create a series of actions in response this autobiographical texts.

ACTION – Sand a solid wooden board vertically, cut at the same height-length as my body (1.80 m).

TEXT [VOICE] – Conductive element of writing: the skin. Fragment: 'I intentionally let my skin peel, and become hard, dry, and rough like a reptile’s skin. A reptile with sharp teeth. I’m grounded. I haven’t. I haven’t fallen off the cliff yet. My rage has saved me, and I’ll repeat this sentence whenever necessary. Rage, Rage, Rage. A powerful word.

AÇÃO – Lixar verticalmente uma tábua de madeira maciça, cortada na mesma altura-comprimento que o meu corpo (1.80 m).

 

TEXTO-VOZ – Elemento condutor da escrita: a pele. Fragmento: ’estou deixando a minha pele escamar propositalmente, se tornar dura, seca, áspera como a de um réptil. Ser um réptil com dentes bem afiados. Estou ancorada. Não despenquei do abismo, ainda. A minha fúria me salvou, e vou repetir essa sentença sempre que for necessário. Fúria. Fúria. Fúria. Uma palavra poderosa.’

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© 2020 Rubiane Maia