Between Becky and Graham’s two installation the theme of late seems to be foot movement. Maybe it’s the weather, but maybe it’s the fulfillment of self-sufficiency. With the state of the economy right now – investing in yourself and testing yourself to realize just how much you are truly capable of accomplishing will have to be the new black and I embrace it whole heartedly.
But what happens when your body has you trapped and lets your mind wander free? The ultimate form of chlosterphobia.
I believe life setbacks end up serving some “grand” purpose in our life and Becky’s injury has in some small way highlighted her priorities. Running with Zoë is a great memory, a goal, and an accomplishment. The motion of stirring cookie dough even makes her happy because she is finally rid of the crutch. The crutch as both a tool and an aide can be quite handy, but it is a constant symbol of dependence pointing out the very thing we are incapable of doing.
But crutches come in all shapes and sizes. We are all aware of this.
The past six months have been a roller coaster for my grandmother. Complications from both surgery and a stroke have left her with use of only her left arm. A once active swimmer, she now has to rely on others and her own problem solving intuition to get through one day. Her entire life is out of her hands and if I think about it too much I can’t breath. Complete dependence is probably my biggest fear, but I was wondering why sometimes I feel just as trapped even now. I remember being debilitating shy when I was younger. Barely capable of kicking a soccer ball when my dad took me for team sign up at age five, I was so scared of the other kids, worried they would pick on me for some irrational reason. I eventually adapted and learned to observe and then act. Observing allowed distance to create comfort. It became my crutch and it still is. I need to understand before I can feel comfortable enough to open my mouth. It’s my own self-imprisonment. You will never see me on a stage. I have to give a toast at my best friend’s wedding this weekend and I want to vomit at the thought of 200 people looking at me.
Becky’s escape from the crutch has left a larger space for the things she loves – baking, painting, making, running, walking, Zoë time! Foot maps. Mobility realized. These impressions Becky and Zoë have left on my floor become a web of line and motion. The ethereal quality of Zoë’s ink steps mixes with the uncertain line of Becky’s foot trace to create the most complex ballroom dance sequence I have ever seen. They must have had a ball.
I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.