on time and the game
the game room
My grandmother used to play parqués. I would kneel next to her, my nose resting on the playing board’s wooden frame, watching as the dice hit the glass surface, and keeping a tight count of Nubia’s bets. Above me, clouds of Piel Roja cigarettes covering her face.
A crucial component of this project is time. Time is manifested in the duration of the piece; the piece takes two days, thirty six hours. It is crucial that the performance space is lived in. I moved into the apartment a month before the performance. I hosted weekly dinners with close friends and allowed them to witness the transformation of the space. I will remain inside the apartment for the thirty six hours of the performance and be disconnected from the outside world except for a webcam that will be live streaming my performance. I want to live in the house. I want to experience absence and fullness, I want to sleep with the memories of my grandmother and let them take root inside my body and my house.
In 2013 I participated in Pope L.’s twenty-five hour piece, Cage Unrequited by reading a section from John Cage’s 1961 edited anthology, Silence: Lectures and Writings. While I read, Pope L. slept in a tent. Ten minutes into my reading, he woke up, stood up, sat on a desk next to me, and began writing. The piece made me consider the potency of words in space, the impact of filling a room with sounds, thoughts, and memories. I realised that walls take time to record memories, but that they hold them forever. I want to bring memories into my house, memories of my childhood, my grandmother, my mother, and me, and then share them with my audience.