Asking for Sims - Response
What am I looking for, in these repeated questions, in this outspoken voice that does not fit in? Am I looking for the next sentence, a reflection on whether or not there is any value in these impolite, flatfooted (crip metaphor), in-your-face transgressions? Do I look for anything that explains why embarrassment for others' transgressions seems to come back into this residency, again and again, and somehow begins to infiltrate my own sense of self? Shame. So much at the heart of the Anarcha Project.
There is something interesting in here, for me, about who depends on what. For there was deliberateness in my choice to ask that question, again and again, just to see what happened, to put some vibrations in the air. For what is the point of silence, of us entering and leaving the space of Montgomery unmarked? Maybe what I have to learn is that there is more value in silence, and that there is no value in even polite, performed innocent questioning. I just do not know: I get no next sentence here, nothing that points to ways out of the dilemma, only a statement of the dilemma itself. Does anybody want to put the next sentence down, at any point? Silence, politeness, secrets. But those are the poisons of disabled lives.
The Anarcha Project: Art in unusual spaces. Art in unusual form. Art out of improvisatory living together, kept uncomfortable, not smooth, not working properly.
---- Petra Kuppers