Costumes: Dean Wellings & Louis Backhouse
Accessories: Janina Pedan
Staging: Ben Burgis
I'm just right there with you straight away and it had to be punctured in intravenously, a jolting invasion invoked with such a specific and fine kind of violence. It's so deep. It's not a violence which is directed at us, so it doesn't provoke a reflexive defensiveness or anger or hostility. I do feel violated though but it's necessary. Bc the violence is held in place with a screaming vulnerability but not one which I feel I need to cloak or pad or hide from or for. I kind of want to help but I'm unsure of the task which seems like an Ouroboros bc at first it felt like you knew the task but then you undid the task, cutting everything down and open and everything leaking and slipping and falling out of you. Which it always was anyway. And the taupe mesh forms a cross over your chest. And then I feel like the best kind of help I could give is to really be right there. To live is to bear witness. And be somehow invisible- and we are. Somehow the balance is that we are all fucking alone together with all this pressure above our heads. The fact that you use each other's names. Bypass. During valve surgery your heart must not beat.
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