I'll be having a baby. Usually people don't know when, but because my doctor and I have agreed that a c-section makes the most sense for my health, I do know when. January 31.
I am pretty sure that I am not going to be blogging for a while unless I have time to write about motherhood and the new baby. I've been sick since the Human Body Project event in Calgary and have had no urge/ability to even look at the photos (or the other work) from the January events much less post them to the website. In terms of the project, at this moment, I feel like my "job" is done. For whatever reason I felt like I really needed to have those two events while pregnant. I'm not certain what I accomplished except a bit of personal forward movement.
The project seems unimportant now as the baby approaches. I'll just have to see where it goes after me, the baby and our family get going with each other. Send us good vibes. Thanks.
Ecofeminist, inconvenient prophet, artist, activist, cancer survivor, mother. Radical vulnerability on behalf of the collective. Using nakedness—literal+figurative. Processing my pain.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Too Sick
I have many bloggable thoughts running in my brain but I have been so frickin sick since the Calgary event. Too sick to blog. Too sick for almost anything. Must at least mention my Lethbridge Herald ROAST (in the weekly ROASTED and TOASTED this past Monday). I'll quote it when I feel better.
Man, I am sick.
C-section to bring baby Sophia into the world booked for Jan 31. Only 10 more days.
Man, I am sick.
C-section to bring baby Sophia into the world booked for Jan 31. Only 10 more days.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
On the News
I rarely watch the news but I did tonight because I was on! It's sort of exciting to think that word of my little project could be broadcast into thousands of homes, possibly moving people! So when I got the opportunity to be on Global's Calgary newscast, I came to Calgary early to be interviewed today. The interviewer fellow and the videographer were likeable chaps who put me through my paces a bit to try and get more interesting TV than just a normal reporter-asking-questions interview. They shot at the Green Fools Theatre and recruited a couple of people who happened to be there today to be the people I was speaking to about the project. (They were interested and interesting people who barely show up in the segment.) And they had me undress (not shown on TV, obviously, but they showed my pregnancy-swollen ankles as my pants dropped) and then wander around in a robe from the Green Fools' costume supply.
I felt like an idiot in the robe because it was too small. I was always clutching it together. My project requires some explanation and the approximately three minutes of air time (from more than an hour of shooting) focussed mostly on showing my pregnant belly and emphasizing the upcoming nakedness. My poor mother was worried that the reporters would ridicule the project (on the contrary they seemed genuinely interested) so she thought the segment was "exceptionally thoughtful." But I just thought anyone who saw it would have very little clue what the event or the project was about.
I'm not faulting the reporters. In fact I thank them for their interest, time and consideration. I used to write the Maclean's "People" page and my paragraph-size articles on various topics, some very worthy of note, had to fit a certain cutesy format.
The whole newscast tonight, not just my tiny spot, was so non-deep, so cutesy format (BIGGEST NEWS: David Beckham's $250 million contract; it turns out, though, he is doing it "for the kids of America"; lotsa pictures of tanned Posh with cleavage). Which is why I, I suppose, I never watch the news.
I want deep. I yearn for deep. Often I feel desperate for deep. I feel alone a lot because no one else seems to mind.
I felt like an idiot in the robe because it was too small. I was always clutching it together. My project requires some explanation and the approximately three minutes of air time (from more than an hour of shooting) focussed mostly on showing my pregnant belly and emphasizing the upcoming nakedness. My poor mother was worried that the reporters would ridicule the project (on the contrary they seemed genuinely interested) so she thought the segment was "exceptionally thoughtful." But I just thought anyone who saw it would have very little clue what the event or the project was about.
I'm not faulting the reporters. In fact I thank them for their interest, time and consideration. I used to write the Maclean's "People" page and my paragraph-size articles on various topics, some very worthy of note, had to fit a certain cutesy format.
The whole newscast tonight, not just my tiny spot, was so non-deep, so cutesy format (BIGGEST NEWS: David Beckham's $250 million contract; it turns out, though, he is doing it "for the kids of America"; lotsa pictures of tanned Posh with cleavage). Which is why I, I suppose, I never watch the news.
I want deep. I yearn for deep. Often I feel desperate for deep. I feel alone a lot because no one else seems to mind.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
HBP 2: A Surprise Success
Funnily enough, my husband and I were having lunch yesterday before the event and talking about what we learned growing up in each of our families. His family's motto might have been: ALWAYS BE SAFE!!!!! And mine would have been: YOU MUST BE SUCCESSFUL!!!!!
Success in my family back then meant money and status, big house, nice car, good grades, fancy degree, etc.--measurable and obvious. By these standards, last night's Human Body Project event was not a success. Besides two reporters and the ten people who were helping me, only nine other people showed up (ten if you include an infant).
Odd and surprising. For the first event I was pretty convinced no one would come. For this one, I was freaking out that there would be a crowd scene because so many people had told me they were coming and bringing friends. As I said last night, I was spared that particular freak-out.
Besides dealing with being naked, one of the things that I experienced intensely at both events is a sense of responsibility for the experience the audience is having. I'm pretty sure I've written about my over-responsibility issues somewhere in these blogs. I'm female and the eldest child and I think it goes with the territory. But how useless a burden it is.
At the first event I suppose I had the overwhelming nature of the event--more than 70 people; my first time standing naked; strong group energy--to carry me beyond that worry. But for this one, here I am in what looks like a large, empty room when only 20 or so people are in it (including the two reporters who travelled especially from Calgary) and I'm trying to think, how do I salvage this for them all? YOU MUST BE SUCCESSUL IN A MEASURABLE AND OBVIOUS WAY!!!!!
Success=large numbers of people having an intense experience.
In my real life, I would try to make people feel at ease and I would chat. Sometimes I catch myself at this and think--what the fuck? Why do I think it is my frickin job to make the world feel at ease? Ironic, hey? Since my project is about discomfort and all.
Last night a voice kept coming to me: just be here. I know, I know, you've heard it before. But the phrase helped me. I let myself move past wondering how to fix the experience for those who were there. At the first event, it felt important to connect with the people in the audience. I made a lot of eye contact and eventually went around the room and got close to people. Last night, that didn't seem like what needed to happen. As I let go of feeling responsible for the audience's experience I was able to have a very deep experience myself.
I felt unbelievably grounded and strong, like a tree rooted to the earth. I have never felt that strong and still. As a yoga practitioner I have made intentions to connect with that feeling of groundedness but last night's feeling was so available. I also felt a lovely connection to the being growing inside me, something I have rarely been able to feel during this pregnancy of perpetual poisoning. It was a deeply peaceful experience for me when I could have made it a stressful one.
To me, this is real success! I experienced a form of self-love! I did that!
I'll admit that afterward I said to my husband: maybe the Human Body Project is just about (expensive) therapy for me. Last night sure seemed like that. (But some of my helpers said they also felt peaceful. I haven't looked at comments from other audience members yet. But probably not everyone thinks the way I was trained: YOU MUST BE SUCCESSUL IN A MEASURABLE AND OBVIOUS WAY!!!!!)
One of the things I love about these events is that no one knows what's going to happen. While only nine paying customers may seem like a bust, I just don't see it that way. I think it would have been really hard on me if the crowd I was expecting showed up. After last night I actually feel far more able to handle a crowd if I do ever get one.
I still have faith in the project. Yes, it's therapy for me. I also believe it will reach people as it needs to. I'm not sure what kind of experience people had last night and I'm not sure what kind of experience they were looking for and, I realize, how can I ever know those things or be responsible for them anyway? For those who were there last night, I thank you again for the experience I had.
Success in my family back then meant money and status, big house, nice car, good grades, fancy degree, etc.--measurable and obvious. By these standards, last night's Human Body Project event was not a success. Besides two reporters and the ten people who were helping me, only nine other people showed up (ten if you include an infant).
Odd and surprising. For the first event I was pretty convinced no one would come. For this one, I was freaking out that there would be a crowd scene because so many people had told me they were coming and bringing friends. As I said last night, I was spared that particular freak-out.
Besides dealing with being naked, one of the things that I experienced intensely at both events is a sense of responsibility for the experience the audience is having. I'm pretty sure I've written about my over-responsibility issues somewhere in these blogs. I'm female and the eldest child and I think it goes with the territory. But how useless a burden it is.
At the first event I suppose I had the overwhelming nature of the event--more than 70 people; my first time standing naked; strong group energy--to carry me beyond that worry. But for this one, here I am in what looks like a large, empty room when only 20 or so people are in it (including the two reporters who travelled especially from Calgary) and I'm trying to think, how do I salvage this for them all? YOU MUST BE SUCCESSUL IN A MEASURABLE AND OBVIOUS WAY!!!!!
Success=large numbers of people having an intense experience.
In my real life, I would try to make people feel at ease and I would chat. Sometimes I catch myself at this and think--what the fuck? Why do I think it is my frickin job to make the world feel at ease? Ironic, hey? Since my project is about discomfort and all.
Last night a voice kept coming to me: just be here. I know, I know, you've heard it before. But the phrase helped me. I let myself move past wondering how to fix the experience for those who were there. At the first event, it felt important to connect with the people in the audience. I made a lot of eye contact and eventually went around the room and got close to people. Last night, that didn't seem like what needed to happen. As I let go of feeling responsible for the audience's experience I was able to have a very deep experience myself.
I felt unbelievably grounded and strong, like a tree rooted to the earth. I have never felt that strong and still. As a yoga practitioner I have made intentions to connect with that feeling of groundedness but last night's feeling was so available. I also felt a lovely connection to the being growing inside me, something I have rarely been able to feel during this pregnancy of perpetual poisoning. It was a deeply peaceful experience for me when I could have made it a stressful one.
To me, this is real success! I experienced a form of self-love! I did that!
I'll admit that afterward I said to my husband: maybe the Human Body Project is just about (expensive) therapy for me. Last night sure seemed like that. (But some of my helpers said they also felt peaceful. I haven't looked at comments from other audience members yet. But probably not everyone thinks the way I was trained: YOU MUST BE SUCCESSUL IN A MEASURABLE AND OBVIOUS WAY!!!!!)
One of the things I love about these events is that no one knows what's going to happen. While only nine paying customers may seem like a bust, I just don't see it that way. I think it would have been really hard on me if the crowd I was expecting showed up. After last night I actually feel far more able to handle a crowd if I do ever get one.
I still have faith in the project. Yes, it's therapy for me. I also believe it will reach people as it needs to. I'm not sure what kind of experience people had last night and I'm not sure what kind of experience they were looking for and, I realize, how can I ever know those things or be responsible for them anyway? For those who were there last night, I thank you again for the experience I had.
Thursday, January 4, 2007
Private vs Public
A naked body is a potent signifier. Naked=sexual. Naked woman (usually)=sexual object. Naked=sexual=shameful/sinful. Naked pregnant woman=naked nonvirgin. Naked=beautiful/sexy or not so beautiful/sexy=judgment about beauty/sexiness. Etc.
I'd guess there is almost no human being on earth over the age of 6 who is completely comfortable about nakedness. Weird, really.
I'm not. For me, being naked in front of people is very uncomfortable. Before I did the first Human Body Project event I had experience in family life, with lovers and in locker rooms. Reactions I've had to these experiences ranged from closed-off feigned indifference to deep embarrassment. I do not feel comfortable walking around naked in front of my husband even though he professes fondness for my body. I do not and have never felt attractive enough. When I worked at the Omega Institute, a new-agey, holistic studies facility in upstate New York, I never even considered using the co-ed sauna. There may have been a time when I revelled in my naked body as my daughter does sometimes after a bath, but I don't remember it.
No wonder nakedness is associated with sex. The only time most of us are naked and kind of having a good time is when we're under 6 or having sex.
It's way out of my comfort zone to stand in front of an audience naked--especially as just that, a naked person. I.e. I'm not doing a job as a professional artist's model or someone who is posing or a stripper. I'm also not an exhibitionist. In terms of how I feel about my body, I'd say I'm a typical, 45-year-old, Canadian woman. The first Human Body Project event was overwhelming for me.
For many people the idea of doing what I'm doing is way too out there. Some things should remain private, right? What I write in these blog entries is way too out there, too. Again, I am out of my comfort zone in sharing what I share in many of these entries. I am a relatively open person but many of my blog entries are not confidences I would so publicly share.
It seems like routine obviousness that my life would be easier if I had not embarked on this public project (I offer this to my detractors). My body and my struggles would continue to be private.
But I'm going to make an argument here for rethinking these issues. What is so shameful about nakedness? What is so shameful about struggling? Who is not naked under their clothing? Who does not have struggles in their life? While I find it very difficult to expose my naked body and my ugly struggles with sanity and health, I also find it very difficult not to be seen as I really am. It's my own battle, for sure. And the Human Body Project is one of the ways I'm waging it.
But the Human Body Project is bigger than my own probably pathetic little quest for authenticity. As I mention in my artist statement, WE ALL KNOW that we live in a world that is unprecedentedly precarious. We know it but we don't know what to do. We want to do something but we don't know what. I'll say it again: until we viscerally understand our own vulnerability--starting with our own discomfort about being human and being in a body--and the way we share that condition with every other human being, we will not figure it out.
I'd guess there is almost no human being on earth over the age of 6 who is completely comfortable about nakedness. Weird, really.
I'm not. For me, being naked in front of people is very uncomfortable. Before I did the first Human Body Project event I had experience in family life, with lovers and in locker rooms. Reactions I've had to these experiences ranged from closed-off feigned indifference to deep embarrassment. I do not feel comfortable walking around naked in front of my husband even though he professes fondness for my body. I do not and have never felt attractive enough. When I worked at the Omega Institute, a new-agey, holistic studies facility in upstate New York, I never even considered using the co-ed sauna. There may have been a time when I revelled in my naked body as my daughter does sometimes after a bath, but I don't remember it.
No wonder nakedness is associated with sex. The only time most of us are naked and kind of having a good time is when we're under 6 or having sex.
It's way out of my comfort zone to stand in front of an audience naked--especially as just that, a naked person. I.e. I'm not doing a job as a professional artist's model or someone who is posing or a stripper. I'm also not an exhibitionist. In terms of how I feel about my body, I'd say I'm a typical, 45-year-old, Canadian woman. The first Human Body Project event was overwhelming for me.
For many people the idea of doing what I'm doing is way too out there. Some things should remain private, right? What I write in these blog entries is way too out there, too. Again, I am out of my comfort zone in sharing what I share in many of these entries. I am a relatively open person but many of my blog entries are not confidences I would so publicly share.
It seems like routine obviousness that my life would be easier if I had not embarked on this public project (I offer this to my detractors). My body and my struggles would continue to be private.
But I'm going to make an argument here for rethinking these issues. What is so shameful about nakedness? What is so shameful about struggling? Who is not naked under their clothing? Who does not have struggles in their life? While I find it very difficult to expose my naked body and my ugly struggles with sanity and health, I also find it very difficult not to be seen as I really am. It's my own battle, for sure. And the Human Body Project is one of the ways I'm waging it.
But the Human Body Project is bigger than my own probably pathetic little quest for authenticity. As I mention in my artist statement, WE ALL KNOW that we live in a world that is unprecedentedly precarious. We know it but we don't know what to do. We want to do something but we don't know what. I'll say it again: until we viscerally understand our own vulnerability--starting with our own discomfort about being human and being in a body--and the way we share that condition with every other human being, we will not figure it out.
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