The launch's involuntary theme of technical melt-down turned into an applauded feature in Tamar's performance, and into a huge element of distress in my own. People seemed to have appreciated what I was doing, but AHhh - the photos which people took of the scene/me through the window, with the cameras mounted to the glass were supposed to be printed out, one by one, reducing the window's cover of photo-paper and gradually revealing what's behind/inside - making a physical transfer of the audience's view (the photo) back to its source (ME!).
Well, the printer died completely after the second print.... and there I was, lost concept and turned into a sort of arty peep-show. All about the flesh as I was covering myself with the (very unprinted) white photo-papers, and in a very bad mood.
Friends tell me to take it as an experience, learn from it - yes what i learned is that I hate making a show which i don't get anything out of apart from stress, and in this case, no, I didn't. I felt objectified and simplified, and contrary to the sort of objectification I would impose on myself as part of the work, this was forced upon me by that one inflexible thing - 'technology'.
Take it to your bosom, make love to it and then get totally stressed out by it when it doesn't work...
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg){kind=link}