Menstrual Art

Borders and Fragmented Identities

My show for the Fragmented Identities exhibition opening in Borders Festival was moved from the Venice Art House to the Ca’ Zanarde at the last minute. The space at Ca’ Zanarde in the gold room upstairs, is much more opulent in style than the minimalistic Venice Art House, and I appreciated performing in it. I had in fact almost lost the will to perform as we had been waiting for hours, had to move from one venue to the other with the considerable suitcase in the piercing heat, and had the disheartening impression that the It’s Liquid organisers, at least those in charge, were not very organised, and nor did they seem to care about the consequences for the artists involved.

Dancing, captured by Glynis Ackermann

I am grateful that Steve encouraged me to go ahead anyway, because I would feel better for it, and I did. There was a very small audience by the time I performed at about 10:30pm, only four hours after the scheduled time. Back at Venice Art House we had been given the choice of remaining at that venue where there was hardly an audience, or walking to Ca’ Zanarde where there was one… but these two venues both had performances scheduled, and Ca’ Zanarde was running late too, so we ended up with very late slots by which time most people had either left, or were just drinking outside rather than watching shows. It was a loyal few that supported each other in solidarity at the end, and they were just enough for me to interact with in the piece.

It was a very different experience with It’s Liquid in April, when I spoke with both Luca Curci and Andrea Chinellati who run it, and was given the chance to rehearse in the space the day before. This time just Luca was there, and we had no communication. There were many more acts and I think the plan for the evening was over-ambitious. Overall I enjoyed my time in Venice and am grateful for the opportunities. Steve recorded my show which is very valuable for me to learn from. For these Venetian performances I created new 20 minute shows and it proves a new discipline. There were lessons in simplification, minimising the importance of language in the show, and reducing the bulk to carry. My previous blog post describes this show in more detail, as I was preparing it.

Here it is!

And here is a lovely shot of some of the sweet folk who stayed with us till the end on the evening of Thursday 4th August.

We are wearing the costumes of artist Alexandra Holownia who was the final performer of the evening. She is 2nd from the left, Steve is in the middle, and Glynis Ackermann is on my right.

It’s Liquid in Venice

Three months ago I performed Girl in Suitcase in Venice, in a new twenty minute version, in Italian. That was the maximum length for a performance at the Architectures of Identities – Contemporary Venice exhibition opening. At about a sixth of its original duration, this was an exercise in condensing and compacting the essence of the piece.

The opening scene of emerging from the suitcase and becoming unbandaged, introducing myself as a character – this was mostly unchanged except that I brought back the music I had played for this scene in the version of 2015; Sanvean by Lisa Gerrard. And, I spoke in Italian. I had asked two Italian friends in London to translate the text and advise on pronunciation. The words themselves speak a little of my background, born in a place where women have rights and are basically mostly free…

In the second scene I dressed up in the most revealing G-string, a pair of red stilettoes and lipstick. Lydia Lunch’s Smoke in the Shadow played, I struck a quick pose, then as music faded I read ‘the news’ as it had been in Telegraph Hill a month before, naturally in Italian. Statistics for rape, honour killings, FGM around the world present the idea that my personal bubble of relative gender equality is far from representative globally, or even the end of the story in more equal societies. During my listing of attrocities against women, Steve came on stage to remove my clothes and appear menacing with a rope and knife. This act did not last long before I told him to get lost – a reminder of cosier power relations!

Now naked once more and holding a kitchen knife aloft, I delivered what I call ‘the crashing through the universe’ monologue. It’s about how women have power that men have suppressed and which will eventually explode as they ought to be – crashing through the universe! (Commanding their own journey). This heralds the way toward my own self-direction, stylistically in that I now create a movement pose. I performed to Patti Smith’s Free Money last time, which has a wonderful build-up. I enjoyed beginning extremely slowly, and becoming increasingly wild, expansive and free (see video here).

With Steve by my feet I then poured some of my menstrual blood on to my body – a recent batch. Not as expressively bloody as in Telegraph Hill as I had been warned about not staining the floor of the 14th century palace that is Ca’ Zanarde. I posed, some people drew; it is my familiar message of removing taboo from menstruation. The music was Sufjan Stevens’ You are the Blood.

Finally the body painting scene for which Steve became intermediary, offering brush to audience, with pots of coloured paint. They were not so willing or keen as UK audiences have been, perhaps a cultural difference with regard to participatory theatre, or maybe put off by presence of blood. Still a few marks were made and this happened to The Song of the Butterfly by Istvan Sky and friends.

Performance artist and friend Glynis Ackermann paints on me

More so than drawing me, actually marking my body represents and is the closest connection I have with the people watching. They make a physical impression on me having already seen me perform some quite intimate acts – becoming naked, delivering revealing words about myself, actions pertaining to my personal life, moving freely naked, and removing my mooncup.

Some lovely drawings were created by the audience but unfortunately I did not get to speak much with them after the show, as there was much cleaning up to do. My performance the ultimate of the evening, I missed the chance to socialise as by the time I’d tidied away and washed, it was alas time to leave. Nevertheless it had gone well, I was very happy with what I had done, and the audience though new to my unusual offering, had gone with it and received me well. The space though darkly lit had much character and was a pleasure to perform in. It’s Liquid are the organisation who invited me and they were very welcoming and accommodating. Before me, Glynis had performed and had even asked me and Steve to assist her with her piece, called Mobile. We got to perform naked twice in that evening! In a triad we each moved a frame slowly across our bodies while a projection showed a previous performance Glynis had made of Mobile, with several women.

Tomorrow Steve and I will return to Venice, and I will perform the piece again (on Thursday 4th, this time at the Venice Art House) though with a few amendments, at the Fragmented Identities opening. I have cut out ‘the news’ and replaced it with a visual sequence depicting the fall of a very flirty woman. She flaunts, seduces, performs her own femininity in a manner easily recognised within western culture. She becomes worn out and the props of her image let her down, render her ugly, broken. This is not a comment on women who enjoy wearing stilettoes (which includes myself on occasion) or sleeping around. It’s about feeling like you have to behave a certain way in order to get the attention you want. Maybe it’s to make a living. My point of reference was working as a hostess in Soho clip joints as a teenager. It was curious for a while, but that whole scene can wear a person down for the relentless and brutal commercialism. In the show, the fall was important to create an arc (a bit like life too).

After this scene I decided to simplify the rest of the show, blending it into one scene of just over 11 minutes, to more of the beautiful Song of the Butterfly track. (I discovered this track when couchsurfing in Portugal last year a young woman from Slovenia played it to me). A little monologue; me approaching the audience to be marked – this time just in black; bloodening myself; dancing and finally returning to my case – a detail missed out last time.

Steve is no longer in the show, there are fewer spoken words, and the audience will not be drawing on my account. Of course they are welcome to, but I have removed that element with regard to providing materials, as carrying them up and down the many bridges of Venice was, a bridge too far!

I very much look forward to returning and am extremely grateful to Steve for all his help, and to Glynis without whom I would not know of these Venetian opportunities. It has been marvellous to make friends with another female performance artist who works so much with her own and others’ bodies, and has such a wealth of international experience.

Returning to a One Woman show

The 2011 version of Girl in Suitcase was autobiographical, taken directly from experiences of growing up with and looking after my Mother. It was powerful, but I found it difficult to develop as it was literally so close to home. About my Mother’s deteriorating condition, I felt I was almost dancing with death in a manner of speaking, by writing what was and could be happening, and then performing together with fellow actress Jaki Loudon who admirably took on the role of my Mother (the show can be seen here). It can become a case of art affecting life, and the not knowing what is affecting what more, but the possibility of that being in your hands is not desirable, in terms of the creation of art.

with Jaki Loudon at the Mascara Bar, August 2011, taken by David Alexander Murphy

In 2014 I revived my performance, having had almost 3 years break. This time it was a one woman show where I was accompanied by live musicians. It was both autobiographical, and suitably abstract that it didn’t feel overtly revealing. There were two versions – one in Telegraph Hill festival, the other at Hampstead School of Art. The second accentuated the tragic aspect as I myself performed my Mother for some scenes, most gravely a scene from a hospital bed. Jollity was yet maintained by the stage presence of life model and performer friend Ursula, joining me on stage in another scene for naked dancing.

with Ursula at HSoA, taken by David Alexander Murphy

with Roddy & friends at The Telegraph at the Earl of Derby pub

In 2015 I explored ancient Goddesses with my friends, in London and Norwich. And this year I wanted to go solo again. Well almost solo, as my partner Steve joined me for a couple of scenes, so I was well assisted. This change of direction felt right partly because of the complication of attempting to get a few of us all available at the same time for rehearsals, let alone performances; and also because I wanted to travel with the show. Again this would be simpler just with Steve, as I know that all my friends who were involved last year have their own commitments which would inhibit them prioritising this. Steve and I on the other hand, are keen to travel together, and enjoy travelling with a sense of purpose and a means to connecting with a location.

The show was largely rewritten (I think one scene remained from the previous version), and is now all my own words (with some adjustments from Steve who also enjoys writing), after last year’s more collaborative effort. I would still be happy to revisit last year’s and indeed earlier versions, in the right circumstances.

The new structure comprised of two halves; the first focusing on objectification of woman, the second on reclamation of control and agency in woman’s life. These themes were explored in alternating scenes of movement, monologue, life modelling/drawing, body bloodening/painting/rope-binding, many of which involved audience interaction. Steve wrote about this performance very eloquently and comprehensively here, so I don’t have to! I will simply focus on a few areas of particular note to me.

The familiar life model and tutor scene was recast with Steve performing the tutor – his debut as an actor delivering lines. I was freed up from being a man, which I could appreciate more after not having enjoyed the role the last time round, at WOW. He represented the oppressive male in other scenes during the first half also, providing a figure for me to act against, standing for the law, and domestic violence. In the second half his role was reversed as he became submissive. During the bloodening scene in particular, he became recycled!

I feel I ought to explain a little about the recycling scene (which may be seen here), as it could be interpreted as insensitive or offensive. The monologue is me observing my own habits, not necessarily espousing them, upholding them as an ideal. Sometimes I am obsessive in saving things, holding on to them or reusing them, when arguably I would be better off chucking them far sooner. This applies to objects, substances (including menstrual blood), and also as noted, boyfriends! This is in part humorous, though also perhaps a little too painfully honest. Steve certainly found that part rather challenging as we are a relatively new partnership, and it was as if perhaps predicting our demise. He handled the challenge admirably however, embracing the sentiment and volunteering to be (recycled as) my seat as I posed covered in blood. He has always supported and encouraged my tendencies towards menstrual art, I would add even before we were together, he was sending me links to other performers and artists working along similar lines, as well as articles pertaining to the practice (who said courtship was dead?!)

Lovely quick drawings by Rodger, of the Bride scene, recycling poses, and movement pose

What was probably of greater concern was how exes may perceive this somewhat open interpretation of my ways. It could sound mean, “…it has to be beyond broken before I get rid of it…” In response I would say that this angle is but one dramatic take on my behaviour. Life is complicated and there are many layers. I go for fairly long-term relationships, averaging five years in length, and I am at an age now when I can look back and observe patterns repeated several times over. A lot is invested in the relationship, so letting go when things don’t seem to be going so well, is less straight forward. I want to really understand what is at play, and hopefully learn the lesson that is invariably there. I do believe that unless we complete fully segments of our lives, then problem areas will re-emerge in a new form until if and when we learn and are then freed to move on. There is no point running away from a difficult situation; it is better faced and confronted, then there may be progress.

One might hope a situation would be fixed before leaving a partner, but maybe only some elements are. Equally there may be parts in the other that we have recognised will never work for us, as we have tried until we have made things more broken. I think that’s where I was going with that line, but again, the initial inspiration for it may have been a piece of junk shelving unit I found in a skip.

Real blood and its smell are challenging, especially as the audience come right up close to me to paint on my body, over the bloodstains. Then there is the mingling and chatting after the show. I haven’t washed yet, or covered up, and a significant amount of the blood may have been spilt over the stage as well. This is of course the point.

The body painting has long been a ritual of the audience leaving their mark on me before I “die” at the end of the show. They have witnessed me, heard my story, and by this scene towards the finale, may have formed some impression of me to which they can respond artistically if they wish, beyond drawing me. It is also a chance to connect with me physically. There is a sensuality to brushing on skin, an added intimacy which can be pleasurable, if not ticklish or beyond the bounds of comfort. I open myself up to them and place a certain amount of trust in their hands.

The penultimate scene about competitive women, where I address this very delicate subject is naturally garnered from my real life experiences, and is recent material. I have never felt the tension of competitiveness with various women in my field before to such a degree. It is largely unspoken. Steve was uncomfortable with me writing about this let alone performing it, but I pressed him – nothing has felt so triggering of my emotions during the last year, and I don’t believe it’s all in my head. I don’t think I’m alone, and I think there may be a value to sharing this aloud. I don’t think it’s just my issue, and I think it has gotten worse since the Tory government took hold. We really are all competing more – for income, recognition and opportunities, and social media has made that more blatantly apparent than ever. I’m not convinced that men feel this the same way but fully prepared to hear that they are. It may depend what field one is in. Certainly if you make a living from the arts, you are likely to be vulnerable. I personally felt that it would be worse for me not to say such important things in what is my very intimate show, my chance to reveal my true self. I could choose for that just to be a more polished, ‘public’ version of me, but really, what value would there be in that? I celebrate and I bare all of myself, in the same space. It is an exercise in self discovery and revelation.

While men have generally enjoyed privilege for hundreds, thousands of years; we women are still learning how to exercise that. We are finding our feet, and I really enjoyed feeling and playing with mine during the naked dance sequence, letting loose for a few moments of public wildness and abandon! The ultimate movement of liberation.

The above were all taken by instagram.com/smokysushi/

The same scene may be seen here as performed in Venice; and that show was beautifully documented by Steve here.

I think I will discuss the Venice show myself another time. I am just in the process of reworking it for a further performance there coming up in August. It is wonderful the way it is evolving, for a shorter (20 minutes) show, for an international audience, who were not previously known to me. Truly I am currently very drawn towards revisiting the Mother and daughter script, from when playwrighting was more immediate to me than performance art. Creating convincing dialogue seemed easier somehow before social media took off, eating up our attention span, but it is something I enjoyed and would love to get back to.

Journey of performing with Lidia

After the various phases of creation of the Goddess version of the play, involving a few different friends for Telegraph Hill festival 2015, a new opportunity arose. I was called upon to bring the show to a festival in Norwich, and neither Sabine nor Ursula were available. This show about several Goddesses ideally required at least two female performers. Some searching followed, and Lidia was the obvious choice. She had filmed the previous show so knew the score. We had never otherwise worked together, though I knew she, like me had a background in physical theatre as well as being an accomplished life model. We did not have long, but she was game and we would adapt the show for two, rehearsing in her Haggerston studio space. She was also adept technically so we were able to rerecord all the soundtrack according to our new specifications (I had recently split up with a partner who had assisted in this regard previously).

Lidia as Isis

Lidia as Enchantress

Lidia threw herself utterly and thoroughly into realising her roles – she sewed costumes, bought her own wings and wig for performing Isis, sourced appropriate paints for the Enchantress scene, and learnt her lines. We rehearsed methodically, and even within the limited time of a few weeks (a couple of which I was away in Spain) we managed to develop a strong stage rapport together. It did make a considerable difference bouncing off (sometimes literally!) a collaborator of equivalent training. Also, as neither of us are particularly tall (I am 5′ 4″ and Lidia is not taller) and we are of comparable height, the shared low centre of gravity makes for ideal contact movement work. Her relative sturdiness compared to my more slender disposition meant she was better suited to carry my weight if a lift was required. The contact in our performance enhanced it greatly, and gave the dance elements more emphasis. The physical closeness matched the tightness of our connection as performers; we operated well as a unit. Lidia’s attention to detail meant that the fairly complex structure of the play was smoothly absorbed and delivered.

I had just enough time to improve on the previous script of about 6 weeks earlier. I had felt it was lacking punch at the critical climax of the play, during the witches scene. The tragedy needed to hit harder of the women’s fall, from all their power as enchantresses, to being cruelly wiped out. With an added monologue, and Lidia’s idea to bring another conceptual layer to the body painting, this extra drama was achieved. The result felt powerful.

We performed in a very cold stone church – St Margaret’s Church of Art, quite late in the evening on Saturday May 8th 2015. There was no running water in the building, and only an outside portaloo, so there was no chance of washing all the sticky fake blood, and the thick black paint off us afterwards. We had to put on old clothes and let it dry before showering at our residence a while later.

The coldness of the building was overridden by adrenaline, and possibly contributed to edginess! It did however mean that the chances of getting the audience to strip off at the table-turning audience-modelling scene were vastly limited. We were at least lucky to get one keen taker, who seemed possibly suitably inebriated or otherwise altered for the occasion. He did very well, and Lidia and I both drew him.

It was a very friendly crowd, and our message of menstrual celebration was well received by the Norwich Dandies. Eloise O’Hare in particular was displaying several of her own menstrual paintings in the exhibition in the church. There was so much vibrant work and activity in the space, it was a pleasure to be part of Dandifest’s alternative vibe.

It was also an intense and valuable experience working with Lidia. Life and other commitments have gotten in the way of further collaboration, however I am sure more will emerge when our theatrical spheres converge once again.

More pictures from this performance may be seen here.

Blood Stones by morning light

I wanted to do something for me. To reconnect with myself and the Earth, to feel alive. A simple thing without much preparation, that happened spontaneously. I had thought about this happening, in various scenarios for quite a while now, and yesterday evening walking home with my partner Steve, my plan formed more fully. Less bold than my original intention, but safer, easier, and perhaps more beautiful. In any case, like many things in life, practise may improve it, so better surely to begin gently. Build up to the bold, if that ever wants to manifest.

I put a lot into the Girl in Suitcase shows, and together with creating the safe Spirited Bodies space for the benefit of others, it can at times be exhausting. Yet sometimes, I just want to do something simple. Life is complicated enough, and simple is good. So I ask Steve when sunrise is because he is an early riser, and I set my alarm for a tad before. I won’t have to travel far to make my art in the morning, as I have decided to keep this local. I am going to get a bit messy and being within 10 minutes of my shower will be appreciated. I am continuing a theme developed through several Girl in Suitcase shows of working with the idea of menstrual blood. And like the last show, not just the idea but also the very thing. I am currently bleeding, but the flow isn’t strong yet. Luckily I have several old batches stored in my fridge, and this is the day they have been waiting for!

We go up to Hilly Fields where there is a stone circle. It is not ancient in the usual sense as was created for the millenium by local people, however, “the twelve 400-million-year-old granite boulders were brought from Mount Struie, near Inverness and the two taller stones are known as St Norbert’s Gate are cut from Caithness flagstone, quarried close to Wick in Scotland’s far north, as is the circle’s central horizontal flagstone.” I have really enjoyed celebrating Solstices and Equinoxes at more traditional ancient sites, but it is not surprising that this circle too lends the weight of older realms.

The sun is just out on one side of the hill, and the sky is bright and clear. There is frost on the grass and at this point I am well wrapped up. We see a couple of people in the distance, but not near the stones which are deserted. On the edge of the circle and down the hill a bit by some trees, I put down my bags and take off my thick coat, placing it down as a base for the rest of my garments. They each come off – a chunky cardigan, boots, socks, a dress, loose trousers and pants.

The container of blood is removed from my rucksack and the lid unscrewed. I know this will smell so it is good to be outside, as making paintings with it in my flat has on occasion induced wretching. Strong stuff kept tight for a few months because some time last year I realised there is potential with this substance I monthly shed. I’ve read about its power and have several pictures made with it on my walls, as well as one by artist Eloise O’Hare, mixed with her embroidery. She gave it to me when I performed in Norwich last year at Dandifest, in appreciation of the performance and since I had complimented her menstrual art. She makes so many other types of pictures and sculptures mind, and is an extremely talented artist.

I pour it on my front and legs from a few places, and Steve does my back. There is no smearing, just pouring. It’s not so thick and he wonders if it will be visible in the early morning light with just his phone-camera. We will find out. I clamber on the first stone.

I had wanted to start on the most difficult stone to mount which I had achieved a week or so before when dressed, with Steve’s help. Covered in blood, naked and barefoot however, it seemed less scalable. The ground was freezing so I wanted to keep moving, and decided to start instead with the easiest. Another intention had been to pose on each stone as there are twelve, representing directions and star signs… but in the moment, again I went for simple. With the frost permeating my soles fast I was grateful for each stone that would easily accommodate me! It was enough, and so I went round, and with his lens so did Steve, sometimes nearer other times further.

I come to this hill a lot and have brought friends here. There is a cafe close to the stones that I regularly frequent, and the circle of stones has its own gravity. I have come here in troubled times, and many happy ones also, to share my state of being with the hill, often alone. I have written pieces of script or blog here, and called old friends whilst leaning on a stone. I have been stoned here.

One time last year, I was walking across the hill grieving an old friend who had recently died. I had been in a black hole a while, and then out of the blue I bumped into my friend Vix. She was partying on the hill with friends, and invited me to join them. At first I carried on my journey to buy milk or whatever, saying I would see how I felt on returning. I had explained my loss. Walking slowly back in my daze twenty minutes later, I saw that the group were beginning to dance as the sun went down, under the sky and some trees. I decided to put my groceries down, and felt called to dance too. It was funny because all I had been listening to since Mike’s death, was goth music which he loved so much and reminds me of the times we were close. Here on the hill I was getting down to disco! I had a truly magical time with Vix, healing through dance and laughter. After that evening I started to feel much lighter about the intensity of prematurely losing an old friend.

Why the old blood? Well, it feels ritualistic, and I like that. It heightens the occasion. I am so used to being nude, that to enable me to be released from my comfort zone, there needs to be another layer. Just as people come to Spirited Bodies to have a new experience, I also need that, in my own way. My friend Calu ran a menstrual art workshop last year in my living room, and that was powerful too to share in drawing with our blood. I think it appealed to my desire to recycle as well, as I observed in the recent Girl in Suitcase performance last month.

My old blood is part of me, from me. I may never breed – though I’m not ruling it out, it just doesn’t call. But I will always create, and indeed sometimes with my own blood. To take it outside allows some of it to fall and blend into the ground. My feet are on the ground, feeling the frosty flakes, the icy blades of grass. Lines of blood soon dry on me. I feel exhilarated, padding across the earth quickly to avoid becoming frozen. My toes grip the stones and my arms find my balance.

Sometimes I just want to be, simply myself, but too I think to make shapes. And while just being is comforting; stretching and arching find a new relationship to my arena. The Earth, sky, stones, sun, hill, trees and shadows encompass the scenery for me to move and exist in. I am alive – a dancer, a mover, a performer and an artist. I find such pleasure in my body; with it and through it, and I wanted to feel that now, and to share that with the camera.

Life had gotten in the way of me taking part in some of the great outdoor nude photoshoots of recent years in London and beyond. Being with Steve and hearing of his excitement and passion for them, reminded me that I share such an instinct, in the right conditions.

With Loving Bodies coming up on Saturday, there is plenty to organise and I feel this pressure to deliver. I committed to it, it has my name on it, and I want people to be happy with it. I want it to be a success. I believe it will be – it has its own buzz, since the concept is so powerful, and crucially it is not all down to me. But to remind myself where I am now, who I am behind all the sense of responsibility (and the fear of failure), I dedicate the action of this blood happening on the stones, to my inner self, my truest nature. I let go of the other layers present in my life, and simply add on some of my old blood. A brilliant sunrise and a very loving, indulging partner complete the scenario. For a brief moment this morning, I was making art in nature, and spirited into a wildly organic zone. One I hope to return to time and time again. With thanks to Steve for documenting in pictures my action, and for hearing me so intently, always positively. So much love.