Memoir

Voice

2008-07-26T08:54:00.000-07:00

All of my sisters and I suffered from extreme shyness and for the first twenty years of my life I was nearly mute in public. Making art was my favored language and I spent hours alone making drawings. I loved learning and going to school, but dreaded being called on in class. I didn't start to get beyond my shyness until I was a junior in college when I took a class on art and aesthetics. That course is where I found the nerve to raise my hand and voice my ideas and opinions. My act of bravery was precipitated by the over inflated egos of my male classmates and their often sexist commentaries. It was deeply liberating to finally be able to speak!

It took many years for me to overcome my self-consciousness in social situations. Teaching has helped me to resolve some of my distress as I become more confident and strong in my voice through guiding my students to their own footing. I still lack the ability to "work a room" and I'll never be an extrovert, but I am articulate and have a distinct voice that I want to share with the world.

image from Voice

2008-07-26T08:52:00.001-07:00

Grow

2008-07-22T16:49:00.000-07:00

I've been teaching art for over ten years now and I always encourage my students to have new experiences; to keep growing. I've learned from my own practice that art can't happen in a void. I look at the work of other artists, but I'm also deeply inspired by feminist theory, literary criticism, film, and fashion.

While I am a big proponent of personal growth, I often neglect to give myself time to take in new things. In an effort to refuel my creative juices, I spent the day watching movies (it's something I've always wanted to do!) I watched The Silence by Ingmar Bergman, Lucebert: Time and Farewell by Jihan van der Keuken, Juliet of the Spirits by Frederico Fellini, and Werckmeister Harmonies by Bela Tarr. I don't know when I'll have another chance to devote an entire day to movies, but I'm going to make a concerted effort to watch at least one film a week in the future.

image from Grow

2008-07-22T16:48:00.001-07:00

Madly

2008-07-18T18:51:00.001-07:00

2001 was a pretty big year in my life. I bought my house on Greenmount and vowed to get rid of old baggage that blocked my happiness. I met Bill in the fall when we both began working for the Baltimore arts journal Link. We had met a few times, but I didn't have a strong impression of him until we spent the day dismantling the Link office and moving it into a storage unit. We lugged boxes of the journal and talked nonstop about art, music, and movies. I got a crush on him and was excited when we made plans to see David Lynch's Mulholland Drive. I wasn't sure if it was a "real" date, but he brought me a small Howard Finster painting!! We talked for hours after the movie and I was smitten by his sweet charm and deep intellect (he also wore the best floral vintage shirts!) Soon after we began dating and we have been together since. It hasn't always been easy, but I love him madly and I'm happy that I have such a fabulous husband!

For the past three years, Bill and I endured a long-distance relationship between Baltimore and Murfreesboro, Tennessee. I decided to give up the commute and this fall we're packing up the pets, icons, and lots of books to relocate to Los Angeles. It's my first adventure with a partner and I'm excited to see how our future may unfold on the sunny coast!

images from Madly

2008-07-18T14:51:00.000-07:00

Family

2008-07-09T06:10:00.001-07:00

There are six people in my immediate family, my father Delmar, my mother Maryellen and my three younger sisters, Pam, Angie, and Lisa. Growing up, we didn't have scheduled family time, but every so often we'd play Parcheesi or put a puzzle together. My sisters and I would become obsessed by working the puzzle and stayed up late to finish, often fighting over who got to put in the last piece. My sisters and I also loved to play the Catalog Game. We created the game which centered on the cherished Sears catalog. At the start of the game, each person had a cabin in the woods and nothing else. One would close their eyes, flip through the pages and slap their hand down on a random page, where one's hand landed would dictate their lot. We were always laughing riotously at the absurd twists of fate. I remember getting pantyhose and a vacuum cleaner, when I really wanted a Barbie Styling Head (not practical, but we were always aiming for toys over appliances.)

On Monday evening I did a puzzle with Pam and Lisa (we also had a some help from my Dad's cat Jaggers.) As could be predicted, Pam and I became obsessed by completing the puzzle and finished it before we went to bed.

images from Family

2008-07-09T06:06:00.001-07:00

Vice

2008-07-03T16:58:00.000-07:00

I eat too much sugar, curse often and sometimes drink more than I can reasonably handle. Even so, my worst vice is the NICOTINE! I am horrified to admit that I've smoked for nearly twenty years. I call myself a closet smoker, though many have witnessed my indulgence. I'm not one of those people who can say "I love smoking" though I do think it looks cool (see Marc Jacob's taking a drag.) Growing up I despised smoking. My father is a chain smoker and like many kids growing up in the 60s and 70s, I experienced my lot of smoke filled car rides with the windows shut tight. As a young person I was adamant in my distaste for the habit and I still hate the brown smell of my parents house.

Though I had resisted peer pressure throughout my college years, I fell into the nicotine pit in my mid-twenties. I was at a cross-roads in my life and lit up a cigarette on a pensive walk home from work one chilly Autumn night. At first I smoked a pack a month, relishing the quiet introspective moments of smoking. As time wore on, my intake increased and the habit became a way to "relax." While science shows that smoking is a stimulant, it always gave me the sense of a break from my focused mania.

I've tried to quit smoking on several occasions, and have failed. In the past year I was able to quit for seven months with the aid of Chantix. Despite the nausea and wild flying dreams, it worked much better than anything I've tired in the past, but a stressful period in the fall derailed my plan. I quit smoking three weeks ago, once again with Chantix. I've slipped once, but I'm hopeful that I can finally break my nicotine addiction.

images from Vice

2008-07-03T16:57:00.001-07:00

Summertime

2008-06-21T11:28:00.001-07:00

In honor of the first day of summer, my friend Karen and I played hopscotch on the sidewalk on Greenmount Avenue. I have deep fondness for summertime, inspired by memories of my Mama and Papa's house in Dillsburg, PA. My three sisters and I nearly lived there over the summer vacation. We spent our days barefoot, playing kickball, hopscotch and jacks, or jumping rope on the black-topped driveway. We shelled peas and snipped beans, all freshly harvested from my grandparent's lush garden. In the evenings, we chased lightning bugs and sipped my Mama's Pink Lassies (a yummy milkshake of ice cream orange and cranberry juices.) Those days are filled with good memories I will always cherish!

images from Summertime

2008-06-21T10:31:00.000-07:00

Wallflower

2008-06-16T09:56:00.001-07:00

I didn't go to my prom, in fact I never went to a high school dance. I was extremely shy and could barely speak to boys. My senior year I developed a huge crush on Doug, a sweet football player and fellow art student. I felt queasy and lightheaded every time I saw him! I wanted him to ask me to prom. He was in bowling club, so I joined to get closer to him. I was on a girls team, but I could watch him across the lanes. Doug knew that I liked him, and evidently my Art and Trigonometry teachers prodded him to ask me to prom. I thought it was only a matter of time until my dream would come true.

One afternoon during bowling club, my teammate Missy came into the lane squealing with delight and announced that Doug had just asked her to the prom! I was devastated. I could barely breath as Owner of a Lonely Heart played on the video monitors. I spent prom night alone on my Mama's couch watching The Blob. I felt pathetic!

Despite the tragic tale of the prom, this story does have a happy ending. After graduation, Doug and I ended up at the same party. I don't know how it happened, but we started talking. A week later he asked me to the movies. He was my first boyfriend and we dated for three years.

images from Wallflower

2008-06-14T18:02:00.001-07:00

Wallflower by Joanie Biller

Lucky

2008-06-09T06:23:00.000-07:00

I don't consider myself to be especially lucky, but I've always had a knack for finding four leaf clovers. One summer afternoon, I found over forty of them in my grandmother's backyard. I was around ten years old and easily prone to obsessive acts. I was in the yard for hours compelled by desire to find just one more. Since then I often find four leaf clovers by accident, just by glancing as I walk along.

Yesterday, I looked for four leaf clovers in the big patches at Robert E. Lee Park. It was an especially hot day, so I only looked for forty-five minutes. I found three lucky charms.

images from Lucky

2008-06-09T06:20:00.000-07:00

Lucky by Erin Piper

Lucky by Louis and Peter Walsh

Hugs

2008-05-28T21:41:00.000-07:00

My family was not very affectionate. My sisters and I were often instructed to give goodbye or goodnight kisses to family members; it was always a rote action without reciprocation. We didn't hug.

My first dose of the hug came while I was attending school at Antonelli in York, Pa (the program was weak, but the people were great!) It's where I met Janeen (Neen). She was the most social person I ever met! She didn't have my inhibitions, she could talk to anyone and hugged at whim. She was positive and hopeful and giving. As an adolescent, I always made friends with girls who were cruel and domineering. I was convinced that people didn't like me. When Neen and I became pals, I thought that others only liked me because of her. As time wore on, I realized that I could make friends and that hugs felt so good. Soon after, I started hugging my mother and that practice has persisted since.

I'm still sometimes awkward in social situations, but I love a good hug!! Tonight I had hugs with some amazing people I've met during my time in TN. I am grateful to be forever imprinted with their energy.

images from Hugs

2008-05-28T21:39:00.000-07:00

Hugs by Pam Rehm

Books

2008-05-18T16:38:00.000-07:00

Reading has been an important activity in my life. Growing up, we didn't have many books in the house. My Mom read romance novels and we had a set of Funk and Wagnall encyclopedias, but my family didn't buy books. Thankfully, we went to the New Cumberland Public Library every week. It was a magical place, I loved the smell of books and delighted in pulling random selections from the shelves. I was also fascinated by all the names on the check-out card and the knowledge that we had all held and read the same book. It was a community of strangers bound by a singular object and it made me feel like I was part of something bigger than myself. Books nourished my soul and fed my desire to know the world outside my sleepy little town.

As a young person I loved fiction, the Nancy Drew series, Misty of Chincoteague, and the Narnia books were my favorites. Later there was a Stephen King phase and lots of books about teenage girl witches. I still remember some advice from a Christie Brinkley beauty guide I checked out of the library; to stay slim, eat jello and cotton balls (it fills you up and keeps you from cheating on your diet!) I soaked up all the books we had to read for school and especially loved To Kill a Mockingbird and The Scarlet Letter.

As an adult, I read books for creative inspiration as much as pleasure. I have a growing collection and a husband with an extensive library (I often joke that I married him for his books.) It was difficult to choose just five, but all the books on my list have had a significant influence on my life and work.

The Stream of Life by Clarice Lispector

The Stream of Life is a living text. Reading this book is an experience built out of words. I can't really talk about this book, because it only exists while one is inside of it. It is brilliant and astounding!

The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers

I read The Heart is A Lonely Hunter when I was in graduate school and I was deeply affected by McCullers exploration of human suffering. I identified with Mick, the teenage girl who felt the sadness in the world around her. Her introspective monologues, expressed her longing for connection; a desire to be part of something or someone else. All of the characters enact a painful inability to communicate and illuminate the gaps that exist in every relationship.

Technicians of the Sacred, A Range of Poetries from Africa, America, Europe and Oceania

by Jerome Rothenberg

Technicians of the Sacred is my bible! I found a copy my sister had left behind at my parent's house. She was an English major and it was required reading for one of her classes. Rothenberg collected poems from around the globe and organized them under the categories; Origins & Namings, Visions & Spells, Death & Defeat and Book of Events I and II. I have read this book countless times, but find something new and amazing every time I open it. Many of the writings are raw and erotic, and speak of human rituals which have been suppressed by modern culture. When I am feeling hopeless about where to go next with my work, this book always helps me find my way.

On Longing by Susan Stewart

In this book, literary critic Susan Stewart discusses nostalgia. She sees nostalgia not as a sentimental fancy, but rather as a desire for a history which never really existed. Stewart explores the fabrication of meaning and memory through eighteenth-century novels, souvenirs, collections, and miniature and gigantic objects. This book sent me down so many paths in my work and I'm sure I will return to it again and again.

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys

This is the most terrifying and tragic book I've ever read. It is the story of Antoinette Cosway (later renamed Bertha Mason), who was the mad woman in the attic in Jane Eyre. On reading Jane Eyre, I was struck by her haunting presence; she is so pivotal, yet so hidden in the narrative. Rhys gives Bertha her own story, though it is one that the reader knows will end in utter devastation.

images from Books

2008-05-18T16:36:00.001-07:00

Books by Pam Rehm

Books by Cora Rehm-Daly

Together

2008-05-07T16:37:00.001-07:00

This instruction is dedicated to my dear friend Lea Feinstein. I met Lea in my first performance class at TU. I whispered that I liked her lucite doll hand earrings, and in the next moment, she took them from her ears and put them in mine. When my family didn't materialize for my graduate thesis exhibit, Lea stepped in and hosted an impromptu graduation celebration for me. I was touched by her generosity and support. The year after grad school was rough, but I was eased by the weekly dinners at Lea's home. Every Wednesday, Jessica, Jennie and I met to share dinner and conversation in her cozy home. Those evenings were safe and nurturing and provided a sense of community I had never previously experienced. Lea taught me so much about growing and she has been an important mentor in my life as an artist and teacher.

Tonight I hosted a dinner for Erin, Jacqueline and Sarah. All three were formerly my students at MTSU. We ate chili and talked about art and life. I will miss them when I leave TN, but know

we will always be close friends.

image from Together

2008-05-07T16:36:00.000-07:00

Freedom

2008-05-05T18:02:00.000-07:00

When I lived in Lancaster, my pals and I went dancing nearly every night. On Mondays we went to The Village, Tuesday to Tally Ho, Thursday it was Chameleon and on Saturday night we drove up to Harrisburg to hit The Vault. When we weren't out, we were hosting dance parties in our living rooms. Those memories of all night dancing are some of the fondest of my life!

Last weekend, my friend Leslie and I hosted a dance party in her studio. It's the first time I've danced in years and it was a blast. There is something really amazing about being in a group of dancing bodies all sweating and grinning; it's a kind of utopia.

I dedicate Freedom to Adam, Stacey, Andrea, Peri, Lou and all the other friends I've ever had the pleasure to sweat with on a dimly lit dance floor.

images from Freedom

2008-05-05T18:00:00.000-07:00

Sticks + Stones

2008-04-24T12:55:00.001-07:00

Growing up, my sisters and I had the weekend chore of picking up sticks and stones from the yard before my father mowed the lawn. Frequently, my dad's request for yardwork came right in the middle of American Bandstand, which was my lifeline to music and culture. My attempts to delay chores sent my dad into a rage. On the weekends, he started off the day with a can of Schaefer beer, so by mid-day he was unreasonable and often verbally abusive. It was hard to predict what might set him off, our fights were painful, and left me with a deep resentment towards him.

I still remember the day I vowed to stop hating my father. We were visiting my grandparents when I had a realization about my father's life. He was the youngest of eleven children, so my grandparents were in their 70s when I was a teenager. My grandfather had suffered a stroke and wasn't able to communicate. He was grizzled and a bit frightening, but I also felt sorry for him. I began to notice that none of his children ever spoke to him, it was like he didn't exist. Over the years, my cousin and I had found countless liquor bottles wedged into the walls of my grandparent's barn and I realized that my grandfather may have been an alcoholic. Maybe that could explain why his own children would ignore him in his old age. It broke my heart and I couldn't bear the thought of abandoning my own father.

It took many years and some therapy for me to fully forgive my father for his emotionally abusive outbursts. It's still challenging to have deep conversations with him, but we have mended the pain in our relationship. While I don't always see eye-to-eye with my father (especially on politics) I love him and I'm proud that over the past few years he's given up drinking.

images from Sticks + Stones

2008-04-24T12:52:00.001-07:00

Stick + Stones by Joanie Biller

Failure

2008-04-10T08:04:00.002-07:00

When I was in first grade, I had my first dramatic failure as an artist. We were making cage-like construction paper jack-o-lanterns and I made the wrong cut. Instead of a 3D pumpkin, I ended up with a pile of paper strips on my desk. I was a very meek kid and I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of criticism from my art teacher. She yelled and bemoaned my stupidity. I shrank in utter embarrassment and hated art class for most of my early education. Luckily, I had supportive art teachers in middle and high school and I found my way back to art making.

Failure is built into the creative process. If one takes risks, it's also possible that one may fail. Sometimes the things which fall apart or refuse to be resolved offer the greatest opportunity to grow and change as an artist. The collapse within the process is much easier for me to handle that the rejection from the outside! Every week I open my mailbox to find a letter declining my work for exhibition. It's a blow to be turned down and it always triggers my painful memory of applying to graduate schools.

I had worked for a few years after undergrad and waited until my late twenties to apply to graduate school. I was totally ready and excited to enter into a rigorous art program. It was my complete focus at the time and I applied to six schools around the country. I was nervous as I waited for the response letters. I had a dream that I walked down a long country road with a mailbox at the end; I opened the box to find I had been rejected from all the schools. It was a disturbing dream which proved to be a prophecy. I didn't get into school that year and it may be one of the most disappointing times in my life!

For this instruction, I used children's scissors to cut apart failed drawings and a stack of rejection letters for teaching positions, exhibitions, and screenings.

images from Failure

2008-04-10T08:04:00.001-07:00

Failure by Joanie Biller

Unrequited

2008-04-03T17:20:00.000-07:00

My life has been populated by many incidents of the unrequited. I had a habit of falling for the wrong guys, sometimes they already had girlfriends (or boyfriends), were emotionally unavailable, or maybe they didn't even know I existed! I was a real gluten for punishment and was completely indulgent in my misery. I was single for most of my twenties, so at a time when most of my friends were partnering off, I was the honorary third wheel. I was in a state perpetual pining and self-induced emotional torture.

The only things which could distract me from my woe, were beer and dancing (and often the beer worked against me.) One night in Lancaster, as my friends and I walked home from a club, I was overcome with the urge to lay down in the middle of the street, and I did. My pals found it totally hilarious, but I was dead serious. I was overcome by the dire condition of my romantic life and it seemed like the only thing to do. It was late and there wasn't any traffic, so the gesture was mostly symbolic.

As I performed this instruction I was absolutely unnerved! I realized I no longer have the bravado of a twenty year old. I've also found love, so the sting of the unrequited is only a distant memory.

images from Urequited

2008-04-03T17:12:00.000-07:00

Home

2008-03-27T19:03:00.001-07:00

For the past two years I've been living between Baltimore and Murfreesboro, TN. Not having a stable home has left me longing for more security and a place to put down roots. It's also had me thinking about all the places I've lived over the years...

I was born in PA and lived in a trailer off Shauffnertown Road until I was two. In 1968, we moved down the street into a house that my father built (my parents still live there.) I lived with my family until I went to Millersville University in Lancaster. I spent a year in the dorms and then rented a house with my boyfriend on Queen Street. It was the first place that felt like my own. It was big, and empty, since were all too poor to afford furniture. With all the open space we decided to start doing monthly exhibits and music nights, it was my first taste of the joys of a creative community. My little utopia was shattered when we were burgled. I didn't have much, but they took all my worldly possessions, including my priceless collection of

costume jewelry. Ron and I moved to a second floor apartment on Franklin Street and I stayed there until we broke up a year later. Next I lived with Peri and Andrea on Pine Street. I had a really big open bedroom with window seats. I lived there for two years until I made the big move to Baltimore.

I had planned to move to Baltimore with my pal Adam, but that never materialized. So I ended up solo on St. Paul Street. I didn't know a soul and was working as a receptionist, it was the hardest year of my life! Things improved the following year as I started graduate school at Towson University and moved into an efficiency on 41st street. I had a hard time making the rent on my own, so I found a roommate and a cheap apartment on Hanover Street. It was in terrible shape and didn't have heat until late November, but the rent was $360 and I could paint the place however I wanted. After slumming it for year I moved into a real house with Chris and Stacey on Arabia Avenue. I stayed there for two years and then moved with Chris to an apartment in a nice house on Woodlawn Avenue. I had lived with roommates for years and decided I needed my own space, so I rented a shotgun apartment on St. Paul Street. It had a balcony that over looked a catholic church and I often fantasized that I was in Italy. After that, I rented a house on Guilford Avenue with my boyfriend Jason. It was a cool old house, but unfortunately had a constant flooded basement.

After Jason and I spilt, I set out looking for a place on my own. I was looking at apartments, before I realized I might be able to afford a house. I only looked at three places. When I walked into the house on Greenmount Avenue, I was instantly smitten! I remember sitting on the back porch feeling that I was finally home. I painted the living room red and the kitchen Pixy (a perfect shade of 1950's green.) Having a house made me feel like an adult and gave me room to grow. Bill and I had our wedding party there and it was the site of my beloved spare room.

In 2005, I accepted a teaching position in Murfreesboro, TN, and found a duplex on Maney Avenue, a street lined with beautiful Victorian houses. So, now I split my time between Baltimore and Murfreesboro. I still love the house in Baltimore, but it feels less like home these days. It's a strange feeling to be between places. Home has become a more fleeting concept and less about physical place and more about the people I love. I don't know where I will end up next, and I wonder how my map may change in the coming years.

images from Home

2008-03-27T17:26:00.000-07:00

Home by Andrea Biller

Home by Pam Rehm

Homemade

2008-03-15T16:52:00.001-07:00

My first introduction to the creative impulse was through my Mother and Mama. We never went to art museums and we didn't have a single art book in the house. My education came through watching them sew, and knit, and crochet, and embroider, nearly ceaselessly. They engaged in the magic of making something from nothing.

My Mama only went to the 5th grade and she was self-conscious about her talents. I saw her as smart, spunky, and amazing. She was always wearing a stylish outfit she had crafted from scraps of found fabric, and she held fast to her doctrine to not buy something she could make herself, including her underpants! Her sewing room was populated by a menagerie of stuffed animals, toilet paper cozies, and elaborate quilts.

My Mother continued the legacy of making and she and Mama clothed my sisters and I for most of our childhood. As a kid, I was embarrassed by our homemade clothes, I wanted store bought outfits and real jeans! It wasn't until high school that I began to see that our homemade clothes were unique. My Mother could make anything I wanted, we could design it together and she could stitch it up with expert precision (it was her dream to be a fashion designer.)

When I was around fourteen, I made a dress for a girl scout competition. It was a clumsy attempt in calico and ribbon trim. I don't really have the patience to sew things properly, but decided to try my hand at sewing for this instruction. While I didn't inherit my Mother's knack for sewing, I did get her DIY spirit and solid work ethic.

I dedicate this instruction to my dearly departed Mama and to my Mother who is most likely sewing right this moment.

images from Homemade

2008-03-14T23:56:00.001-07:00

Homemade by Frank Baugh

Homemade by Pam Rehm

In the Basement

2008-02-17T16:52:00.000-08:00

The basement in my parent's house was my haven for much of my adolescent life, it was my slice of privacy from my three younger sisters. I spent most of my time there making drawings and lip synched dance routines to Pat Benatar and Olivia Newton John songs. After I discovered the Go-Gos, I became obsessed with the idea of starting a girl group with my sisters and cousins. I came up with a great 80s concept; we would be called Roy G Biv and each girl would be named after a color. Of course, I wanted to be Indigo, I made a record cover, but that was as far as the idea went.

2008-02-17T16:49:00.000-08:00

image from In the Basement

Unconditional

2008-02-10T12:03:00.001-08:00

Yesterday I performed Unconditional in my apartment in Murfreesboro, TN. This instruction is inspired by all the pets I've known and loved. Growing up, we always had cats, there was Mittens, Fluffy, Cinnamon, Topaz, and Crosby. We also had a guinea pig named Blanche and a raccoon named Applesauce. When I moved to my first apartment in Lancaster, PA, I took two strays from my parents house. Paisley and Isadora became my constant companions and they moved with me over ten times in Lancaster and later in Baltimore. They always slept curled together and were tolerant when we inherited Maxwell from an irresponsible roommate. I lost all three to old age and still miss them dearly!

Currently, I share my home with Gromit, Blue and Nico. Gromit is my first dog. He was put into my arms over eleven years ago. He came into my life during a lonely and difficult period and he taught me about love with his open and eager heart. He is the best dog in the world!! Blue (also known as Velvet) joined our pack in 2006. Blue was not a stray and as a result he is incredibly well adjusted and sweet. He wakes me every morning with kisses and mild suckling. He reminds me of Carolee Schneemann's kissing cat. Nico is the newest addition. Gromit and I found her on a freezing December morning in the gutter outside the Baltimore house. She's only been with us for a few months and she is adjusting well to the luxuries of indoor living.

I can't imagine a life without animal companions and I am forever grateful for their unconditional love!

images of Unconditional

2008-02-10T11:56:00.000-08:00

Unconditional by Andrea Biller

Unconditional by Joanie Biller

Unconditional by Erin Piper

Unconditional by Pam Rehm

Body/Object

2008-01-31T12:06:00.000-08:00

Today I began the Memoir project with my performance of Body/Object at Middle Tennessee State University. I chose this instruction as the beginning because it is derived from my first official performance action. Twelve years ago as a graduate student at Towson University, I took a performance class under the direction of Gagik Aroutiunian. I had been interested in performance, but was intimidated by the idea of engaging in a public spectacle. For our first assignment, Gagik instructed the class to create a body/object ritual; we were asked to interact with an object in an unexpected way. I was utterly unnerved on performance day as I made my way to the front of the classroom to quietly sew threads onto the palm of a glove I was wearing. The action was intimately tied to repetitive actions I was using in the privacy of my studio, and it was a revelation to realize that I could make a performance work which was silent and introspective.

My work grew dramatically over the course of the performance class, and I was profoundly impacted by the sheer power of live art. It is rare in our daily lives to sit and watch another person enacting a ritual. Both as a student, and later as a teacher of performance, I have been moved by the evidence of the human spirit embedded in the live performance action.

I dedicate this instruction work to Gagik in thanks for his introduction to the vast and deep world of performance art.

images of Body/Object

2008-01-31T11:58:00.000-08:00

2008-01-17T13:42:00.002-08:00

Memoir is a companion to my 2004 performance project Echo. Both projects are indebted to fluxus art, and to Hans Ulrich Olbrist's project Do it! I've also been influenced by the collaborative project, Learning to Love You More.

I encourage viewers to enact these instructions and to write instructions based on their own lives.