My first performance work was Pillow Case. My first stage was Goddard. I came to Vermont to make that transition between object to body and voice. What was significant was the surge of energy coming from my body, the need to express and speak out in this academic culture I was already feeling trapped by. I came to expand my practice to performance, and that’s why I was here. I began to see that I had no choice but to speak. This was, after all, what I had asked for. This was my opportunity. My need to break free from my own unspoken rules gave my body and voice the urgency I needed to perform.  

The vehicle was there in the form of a found object, a pillowcase that I had appropriated. The pillowcase was in itself an appropriation of nature with false color and false image, a forest with greens, brown and yellow, not just one shade of green, but many shades. I took the pillowcase off the pillow, and it became my challenge, my commitment, a hot rock that could not be held for long. I began to talk about the pillowcase, and it became real, an object looking for its stage.

I put the pillowcase in my backpack and carried it with me, looking and knowing I would find its stage. I walked into a workshop, Considered Spaces; it was a discussion on the “proper” way to critique a work of art. We were invited to put our work up, and I was asked, “Do you want to put something up?” There was no turning back now. “Yes,” I said. I put my pillowcase up on the white wall, and the adrenalin started pumping in my body.

I had heard the term in process a lot as we went around the room discussing the work of others. There were critique rules delineated for all to abide by. It was my time, and I got up. “This is my piece, and it’s complete, finished. I make a commitment to this pillowcase for today,” I said. I talked about appropriation and where it had come from. ”Somewhere between the pillowcase on the wall and my body is where I want to be,” not yet knowing how that would happen. I was forward in front of the object. I talked about my attraction to it and how it mimicked what was all around us in nature. I pointed out the window. I had now addressed my body, the rectangle on the wall and the outside world. I was marking territory: my body, the wall, and the world.

I talked about feeling vulnerable. “I want to hear what you think or feel about this, and please don’t raise your hands, just speak up.” I had claimed the role of educator. I addressed each question being as present as possible. Some questions I could not answer. The last question was my favorite. “You’re wearing a green shirt.” I looked down at myself. “Is that part of the piece?” she asked. I smiled, “Well, now it is,” I said. When it was over I felt as if I had fallen off a cliff into a new part of the world.