anne walton
Oral, in a word. Captivated by the con....cavity of the mouth. Making its appearance as a primary and highly visible point of entry to/exit from: the body. Whether it's in or out of the mouth, "I" am absorbed by it. "I" am swallow("swallow, swallow, little swallow"(1))ed by it. You could say it's a(n un)kind of what's-eating-her situation.
My performance art practice has been preoccupied by/with this high point of orality. And its (im)possible utterances. In other words...in other words...in other words: "I" am speechless. That is to say: "I" am without speech. Do you read me? "I" am on (and off) the out side of speech. Lost. For words. Looking. For words. And backwords. If only I had a good or perhaps that should be bad enough [that's ENOUGH!] memory. Of, for: "the possibilities of cyberpidgin"(2), for instance. Which is probably more a matter of forgetting than remembering.
Braille sucks me in too. The thought that it's possible to see, to read, to write, to speak even, from the tip of the fingers alone. And what to make of, from, this compromising of the eye/I. In the prosaic act of touch-typing alone it might be possible to strike (3) a tone not available from "the wait of ink.(4) It's got a lot to do with all 10 digits working together in a rapid movement. Just look at the fingers (talking?) of a newborn and there you have a metaphor for this thought, this immodest idea that a soundless form of music might be possible in...hear!
Butt, butt, butt (5)... there's a hesitancy in entering this virtual space/community. And an insistence on the right... on the rite ... on the writing on the wall of this messy body to be or not to be in here as well. To announce physical presence in no uncertain terms. And then again, in nothing but uncertain terms. To find a way [away, will you please go away!] to re-embody this evacuated space, this empty womb resounding with: eidos.
Because theory, it could be argued, is a big yawn (6) And I'm only doing this because there's a vaguely familiar smell around here - you could think of it as a kind of virtual breast milk - promising a neverending response that's as thick and creamy as I like to remember it. Giving "me" a fluid kind of outline. A light touch. Or just a touch of light. A kind of
drawing..."me"...[write!]...inn (7).

NOTES
1 Oscar Wilde, The Happy Prince back
2 Gregory Ulmer, Choragraphy back
3 strike: "insert in soil to take root" ...
amongst many other meanings,
The Concise Oxford Dictionary
back
4 Sonja Porcaro's abstract for
Choragraphy
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5 and here you can take your p(r)ick from
a myriad of meanings such as:
"...thicker end, esp. of tool or weapon;
trunk of tree, esp. part just above
ground;...remnant; stub of cigar or
cigarette;...mound behind target;
grouse- shooters stand
screened by low turf or stone wall;
...shooting range; target;...aim,
object; object of (ridicule etc.), object of
teasing and ridicule;...push with head;
...meet end to end..;": The Concise
Oxford Dictionary
back
6 yawn: ...oh YOU look it up. I refuse to
do ALL the work of making meaning!
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7 inn: ditto back to top