Video for performance at SPECTRA, Kansas City, MO.
dirt enthusiast

oozey mess

blake kathryn
noise dept.

Love Begins

izzy's playlists!

shark vs the universe
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
AnasAbdin
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KIROKAZE

if i look back, i am lost

Kaledo Art
One Nice Bug Per Day
Show & Tell
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NASA
ojovivo
RMH
macklin celebrini has autism
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@jessicaborusky
Video for performance at SPECTRA, Kansas City, MO.
New Video, Bar-Beds. To be played on loop.
Disaster-in-Progress
Mobius SPEED review
Thank you for the well-articulated read on my 10 minute performance.
Click Here for the link to the whole article
Traumatic Viewership: Laura Palmer and Complex Diegesis
*trigger warning*
I’ve recently re-watched Twin Peaks, and, for the first time, Fire Walk With Me immediately after. In doing so, not only was I, personally, incredibly triggered, but found myself struggling with the affect of a moreholistic uprooting on the dead/not-so-dead Laura Palmer.
Instead of considering this idea within the framework of narrative against other narratives like it, or even within the context of production- i.e. trying to unpack D.Lynch's intentions behind shots, angles, and character development, I wish to examine this topic through the embodied experience of viewing this piece. That is, taking into consideration how my personal experience affects my understanding of the piece, and, as a result, how I- as Jessica Viewer- may come to understand personal meaning about my own trauma through narrative andvisual codes presented within the story.
While I am not an avid television viewer, there are some serial narratives I thoroughly enjoy. I prefer to watch serial shows alone, meaning, I tend to not watch something while it is actively being shown on television, instead, viewing as many episodes as I can, and relate to the narrative structure and characters as an ever-evolving process (Netflix Original Series may be a response to this kind of viewing, as it has become increasingly popular to “marathon” television shows within the internet audience). I find the serial structure to potentially work against more normative understandings of character development, in that, the room for flexibility and growth within the character/plot is much greater. Simply put, there are more variables at play when something can extend for multiple episodes. Contemporarily, this trend seems to be taking off; spin-off shows have been popular for a while, however, now there are internet-based webisodes, which can extend and activate character and plot development in more elastic and non-traditional ways. Clearly, I am not the only person that enjoys the way a character can build, fall apart, and build again due to the amount of serial-based (trilogy or more) films that are currently produced. This is something that, as a culture, we have begun to devour at a most-seriouspace.
What strikes me about character development within this form is the ability to begin toconsider characters outside their initial context. Of course, fan-fiction also functions through this expectation- extending the life of a character intoother forms that were not previously considered by the original writers. Fan Fiction also develops its own cosmos of narrative, think 50 Shades of Grey.
When characters can become so fleshed out, so three-dimensional, we can begin to consider them beyond the frame of the picture; we can see them as peers,acquaintances, enemies, and lovers. This capacity to capture the audience isdone so through adequate writing, direction, acting, and camera work; and, sometimes, this formula works better than others.
In the case of Laura Palmer, Sady Doyle in “Violently Killed Femmes” on the website In These Times*, discusses the more thorough ways in which her character functionsas catalyst for action throughout the show, and, as a result, challenges the dead girl as prop often used in prime-time television series. And certainly, I agree. Watching Fire Walk With Me, then, becomes really interesting after watching the series, and considering it within the chronology of the narrative as both produced after the show while functioning as precursor to the show.
At first, in watching Fire Walk With Me, I discovered myself annoyed with seeing so much of Laura Palmer Alive. I wanted more of the larger-picture narrative development; how people in Twin Peaks came to meet one another, perhaps more information on the whitelodge/black lodge and its space within the setting of Twin Peaks- both as location and character within the show, etc. This desire to not want to deal with Laura Palmer in my viewership made me check myself; was I satisfied with only understanding this female character through the stories and responses ofother characters throughout the series? Having this desire to want Laura Palmer off screen was feeding into that notion of leaving, and keeping, Laura Palmer dead- only to be unpacked and made more valuable, more whole, through the bodies and voices of other characters. Keeping Laura Palmer at bay, in this way, was also to keep trauma invisible. Certainly, throughout the show, trauma is discussed and made visible in so many ways, however, if the narrative functions on the premise that Laura Palmer's death is what makes the trauma, pain, and evil of Twin Peaks alive and visible, then to create this preface- watching Laura Palmer as Alive character- to that catalytic action, is to actively deal with trauma embodied.
Watching Fire Walk With Me was more challenging than watching all of Twin Peaks alone. Scenes of Laura at the dinner table reminded me of my childhood in a way that was both affirming and drastically damaging: the way she looks at her father, responds her his physicality is so on point with my own experience of domestic sexual violence and rape. Even her"outbursts" of pained violent physical and vocal expression are, for me, reminiscent of ways I feel when confronting what has happened to me, and how trauma surfaces in the body at any time. It was so difficult to view that kind of trauma, after having been exposed to the entirety of Twin Peaks,in such a visceral way- not through memory, but through the character showing rage and fear in a more directed visual plane.
Viewing Laura Palmer as a character that was understood in "real-time" in Fire Walk With Me and not through memory or dream made me confront embodied evil and trauma, as I have come to understand it, in my own life and reality in new ways. I am not meaning to discredit the importance of dream and memory space as a way to come to terms with and understand trauma (in fact, I find these spaces to be paramount to understanding/accepting/living with trauma), but as it is understood within this context on the show, seeing Laura perform her pain more directly challenged, for me, ways in which trauma continues to be dismissed assurreal/not-real. As a viewer, having freshly marathoned Twin- Peaks, Fire Walk With Me gave me no respite, noanswers. I just felt lost. Nothing was attained, nothing gained. Yet, this is often- at least for me- the experience of unpacking/reliving/understanding/livingwith trauma, more acutely in my circumstance, complex-PTSD. All one can learn to do is to live with it: there is no finite narrative, there is no ending, it is always a rupture that continues to develop as intertwined with walking/waking life. Living with trauma is episodic, is it not a well-packaged Aristotelian narrative.
Laura Palmer is NOT dead in so many ways, as we understand throughout the narrative of Twin Peaks, yet to see her in Fire Walk With Me, is to directly confront trauma in a different way. And this confrontation, in my opinion, is dependent upon that already developed serial-narrative. That embodied moment needs its viewer to have witnessed the entirety of Twin Peaks, the show.
The result is unsettling, as it has already happened at the time in which one sees the narrative unfold, you cannot help her. Furthermore, I felt like I was becoming complacent to the violence, condoning it even, if I was finding solace/acceptance/importance in this character's narrative and response to the evil flooding her father, being forced into her.The imagery presented to me through Fire Walk With Me gave me a sense of reality about my own history, which was difficult, and certainly triggering.
However, this pro/epi logue took the concept of full, not fixed female character, to another level. Laura Palmer is not just a catalyst for action that drives the show, she is a three-dimensional character who struggles with A LOT, and, on top of it, has tenacity and vibrancy rarely represented in "living" female characters, more or less, "dead" ones.
A few days later, and still processing the feelings that arose for me in Fire Walk With Me, but feel certain that the film gave credence to traumatic affect- through the uprooting of events leading to Laura Palmer's death. This corporeal study of the character allowed, for me as viewer, to visualize and examine trauma within narrative structure, furthermore, giving me a space to reflect on personal trauma and abuse- instark and important ways.
*Link to thearticle: http://inthesetimes.com/article/15006/the_violently_killed_femmes/
First-draft of new work
"Let's Do This!"
Non-Monogamy
A friend of mine shared this link. While there is a lot more to unpack (comments' section does this), it is nice to gather some language around this issue. My response: As someone who was recently in a poly-amorous situation, in that, i was in an equal 3person/3way relationship that was also “open”, I am dealing with how that worked and didtnt in many ways. While we lived and displayed public affection as a 3-person unit, and arguably challenged notions of queer romantic and sexual identity with our circumstance, there was also a lot of verbal/textual/emotional/substance abuse involved, that, for me, was triggering and resembled issues that ANY intimate relationship could foster. Just because we may have produced affection/imagery that challenged conventional narratives of romantic relating, doesn’t mean that there were not a TON of misogynistic undertones and possession at play. In fact, prior to my entrance into the relationship as full-on partner, not tertiary “other”, the two people outside of myself had actually been engaging in what the article sites as example 4. I could not agree more: it is not the label that inherently challenges these notions of patriarchal performances of gender/romance/emotion/sexuality within an intimate (for that matter, any) relationship, it is the way in which we navigate ourselves and the way in which we can relate to others that we can begin to unpack, dismantle, and actively, compassionately, challenge these westernized, normative-narratives of loving self/inter-expression.
http://automaticwriting1.wordpress.com/2012/03/21/why-monogamy-isnt-the-problem/
Creighton Baxter + Grid ala Jborusky
CAA Conference, HELLYA
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10152151239970752.556574.582515751&type=1&l=2066d9aeaf
Shot and edited by Sarah Hill
Surgery
2012 “If straightness (masculinity in particular) is associated with minimalism, then excess (of form, color, or content) becomes the signification of the feminine, the queer, and the monstrous.” ~ In a Queer time and Place by Judith/Jack Halberstam Point number five from the Non-Trans/Cisgender Privilege Checklist 5.) Strangers and acquaintances do no ask what my genitals look like or what medial procedures I have had.
Hayley Morgenstern
Let Her Eat Cake is a series of three performances that occurred over the span 8 months. The first two performances ran for two hours each, and the third ran for ten hours.
When I first started working with cake as a material in my performances, it became a way for me to theorize and symbolize my own developing femme identity. I see queer femme as an intentional, discerning performance of femininity that has nothing to do with biological gender. Femme is raucous, self-defining and non-complacent to the stupefying force of normativity. The femme identity that I have cultivated through my performances explores the carefully constructed artifice of femme. The structure of endurance performance allows me to acknowledge the pleasures and dangers of performing-while-femme through the limits of my own body. My performances of exploding femme enable my performance of femme sexuality within and through the heterosexual male gaze. I fight for the pleasure of the performance despite the presence of a male gaze not for or because of it. The hyperbolical femininity defines itself as a queer femme, not the castrated version of heterosexual femininity. The literally enacted voracious appetite of femme is meant to disgust and confront a heteronormative world. The overabundance of emotion, gesture, and make-up is meant to deconstruct any stereotypical notions of femininity brought to the performance via an audience member. The performance of femme in the cake pieces is not passive, quiet, or weak. I repeatedly resist the typical notion of the male gaze by refusing look away. The gaze is always returned; it is a refusal to play the passive object; this refusal of the heteronormative male gaze is a repudiation of the shadow of compulsory heterosexuality. This is the gaze of cuntfrontation.
One of my all-time favorite artists
My Relationship to Homeless Men
Yesterday, while waiting for the train, a man started yelling about AA, needing money, banging around on trash cans, etc. we know this scenario. The surrounding witnesses are put off, not sure whether or not to laugh (as he was spouting some seriously poignant shit), to call the cops ( he was threatening to kill himself), tell him to fuck off (as he insulted several people), or turn up those headphones and ignore the whole damn thing.
I started thinking about this act in relationship to performance theory, my father, and me.
This is a human being, and I know, its fucked up to consider this whole thing within the realm of performance, but its my own way of generating a little cognitive dissonance in this situation. And why? Why would I need to negotiate this scene with a mentally/emotionally temporal shift into the safe-haven of some theoretical bullshit? Well, because my father is homeless. He is homeless and he is loud, aggressive, and a sex and drug addict. Whatever incredible qualities he does have, he has allowed himself to become buried within a fury of narcicism, rage, and the pull toward the fascinatingly dark corporeal reality of toxic ingestions.
And, that is the thing: these scenes, they bring to light reality. Here we all are, being fucking assholes with our i-devices, bags of shit; and here comes this crazy fuck- who completely derails the fantasy of perceived comfort within the tidy little nests of our own personal physio-scape. He is screaming, thrashing around, and talking about the openly terrifying things that we would rather never consider. He is that pulsing, undulating body that threatens the fake-promises of our lifestyles. We are all always almost him, I am always almost my father.
I think about my secret performances, and my body of artwork that goes in the portfolio; and I think about my attempts to disrupt the norm, whatever that means: whether its at a bar, a conversation at a party or gallery opening, or a disruption to a narrative I generate through my videos. In public places, I use my body or some hilariously/seriously callous words to reveal social constructions, and trying to break down physical and pychic barriers between people through humor and sass. In my videos, I forecast my physical space as an image that resonates/reads as straight, white, upper-middle narrow, and then reformulate that image through language that aims to challenge the picture- imploring my viewer to question and challenge how they look, how they construct themselves, and how were are being taught to construct ourselves/our personal narratives and histories.
Meaning, I am interested in how these constructions are always about to fall apart. They are so fucking fragile, and we cling onto them for fear of revealing the full-narcissistic self, for fear of indulging the creepy tunnels lurking and vying to rupture through our mouths and hands and eyes.
I think about how my father has done these acts publicly. I have seen him on the street- praying he wont catch my eye. But, he always does. Leaps at me, attacks me. For, he lives in that marginal edge that most of us attempt to quiet, that I attempt to navigate through/into my work. It is that animal space- he will always know my smell.
And I will always know that my father is akin to this man. This man is the horror that is my genetic extension. My horror, but also our society's horror. He represents all that we try to resist and repress. He is the cultural Dionysian extreme. The part and place we never want to go to. I wonder, Where do I fall? I have let my howls out through my public dances, through my biting tongue to strangers and those I love- just to see how far my little body and brain can go onto, and into, another.
The ever-maluable, ever-penetrable screen that is my artwork rests on the edge of whether or not it is enough. After all, dad didnt become homeless until he was 39/40. I still have some time to see if my fate will follow my father's. Sure, there are differences in our paths- but just because I am aware doesnt mean I can stay afloat.
As per usual with this kind of circumstance, I wonder if this man has kids, if he had a job that paid well, if he is really smart and disgustingly funny; If we would get along with that humor- the kind that intends to generate some serious discomfort for its audience.
And I get onto the train and don't look behind me. He is there, waiting to lock eyes with someone. But, I cant let it be me. I cant go there today. I gotta dye my hair tonight for a video I am making in which I chastise myself, so, ya know, I gotta work out my demons without his in my body.
Oh, my savior, oh!
Just finished watching the documentary, Sick: the life and death of Bob Flanagan. So much to say.
Well, I could write a full text on unpacking that film, questions I have that would take years to answer, however, for the sake of two weeks worth of talk/text/thought, I will have to consolodate this experience within the framework of camera as pre-post humous aperatus. To further clarify, I am examining the documentary in relationship to the idea of self-representation and collaboration of the extension of self temporally through mediated image and performance. Furthermore, how, even though Flanagan "gives up" much of his body to his partner, the art institution, and medicine, he maintains a quality of control that confounds and inspires bodies of many variants.
In Sick, we are privy to Bob Flanagan's history and current life at the time of the film. AT the point of filming, we understand that Flanagan has already generated fame through his writing and art practice, we also know he will die. While extremely located in his body through being not only marked as differently abled, through Cystic Fibrosis, but also considered a medical anomoly, Flanagan achieves art-star status through his extremely corporeal performances. Though not reduced to "freak-show" status, Flanagan asserts himself as active agent and creator of his life/art, and that, turns the fairy-tale narrative of active agent on its head through the unabashed contract he makes with his life partner, Sheree Rose, to be in control of his body. This constant upheaval of "right" narratives presents a complex portrayal of an artist, and person, who situates themselves within the forms and flux of their body/life.
Throughout the film, Flanagan's art work is showcased. Often, he utilizes video/ document in order to concretize and elongate his corporeality. While he remains aware of the construction of ALL of it, I would like to focus on his use of video installation in order to hone in on the idea of the camera as the extension of his physical self not only while alive, but through death. Flanagan uses video and photo in order to place himself in time beyond his death. This awareness of death goes beyond mere documentation of atrophy. It is a way to contend with the knowledge of death. His humor and relationship to his body/condition/insight/intelligence is thoughtfully executed within his art practice (life practices, as well). While Rose uses the photograph as documentation as an archive, Flanagan prefers to use the mediation of physical form to generate humor and conversation on a larger scale, meaning, gallery locations. In this way, Flanagan challenges the viewer's expectation, constantly, of how to perceive the physically sick and challenged, and the sexually marginalized and taboo.
Flanagan articulates that he is both completely located in his body as person and an artist, while at the same time, illustrates the blurry boundaries of our physical forms: they can bleed, die, and also be eternal.
More to come, first thoughts....
(finally, though, not to be missed, is that the film ended with the poem you referenced, and I sobbed in the thoughts of how incredible you are.)