Housebound

Time is strange. What sometimes seems like many years ago can simultaneously feel so close. Several years ago, in April, long enough now to feel like it took place in a different place and time, five friends and associates pulled together their various ideas about home, place, the historic value of the domestic, contemporary notions of displacement and transience, the messiness of motherhood, definitions of the feminine, reproduction, procreation, regeneration, and, not least of which - how to create an immersive performative experience relating all of those things.

I think it's important to note that we undertook this at a time when Portland was on the cusp of becoming what it is today, but hadn't yet become it. We were given a month long residency at a fantastic performance space in the still-very-much-transitional neighborhood of Lents (the Alembic residency at Performance Works NorthWest, led by Linda Austin). Putting together a show like this felt possible and still plausible that there would be an audience. I don't know if that audience exists in Portland today. I'm jaded and far removed from any kind of performance scene so I may be full of hot air, but that's just my sense.

Our collaboration was the five of us, myself - the visual artist, two writer/performer/multi-disciplinary artists, and two women whose primary craft was dance/movement/performance related. These photos were taken by Zeb Andrews, using a film camera of some sort - if I remember correctly it was a vintage camera, kind of small and stealthy like a spy camera...I may be wrong about that. Somehow I roped Zeb in to documenting our dress rehearsal even though his particular talent is landscape photography, knowing some kind of magic would come from his eye on the scene. I wanted to document the moment, I felt it was important to do so, but in the time between then and now I've never done anything with this documentation. The prints of these photos have been stored in a box until just the other day when I discovered them. Now I can't get this feeling, the remembrance of just how it felt to put together a show, out of my mind.