Square Roundness… Thoughts on Anthony Gormley’s ‘Model’

I am changed. Blocks are human are square are round and need my roundness to balance out their unevenness, which is present in my square smaller me.

Excited like a child I was to go in there. Now, writing this, I don’t want to hear the chatter yet. I don’t care. This is me here. My experience. I don’t want it to dissipate so soon, I don’t want to hear other bodies’ thoughts. Sometimes they can peel away from me, from my experience, chameleon that I might be, so susceptible to other people’s opinions thoughts feelings ideas.

The outer exhibition did not prepare me for this inner experience but of course it is all the same, just smaller or bigger. Building blocks that make up humans. Like atoms. Particles. Square = round. How lovely!

Loved it. An urge to push and experience these walls and corners and lines… A faint smell of iron. And the darkness… The darkness! So scary at first when I slid back on that first dark block, I thought I might fall into an abyss there, a hole in the ground. No ceiling above me, no wall behind me and yet I would slide on my butt farther away until there was a wall, there was a ceiling. All was just dark. When I found my space my eyes got used to the dark and actually I could discern vague shimmers of people. I think. Shadows. It was an eerie feeling, like a voyeur I sat in my little corner, quiet, observing shimmers passing me, feeling their way through the dark. No one knew I was there, it was as if I was hidden away, someone else. Other bodies that could have been illusions, vague spots until other bodies were touching me suddenly. Something grey crawling near me but when I lightly brush my foot over the area there is nothing there after all. I wanted to be sucked up by this darkness somehow, I wanted to be shadow. To be nothing for a little while.

Going further into the maze I want to be upside down all around exploring these corners. Some people there were scared, weird, awkward, talking about laundry and careers, not really observing. A few were. I was too self-absorbed to pay much attention to the attention of others, but I was startled a few times when I found someone, an unknown outsider, watching me. It changed the experience, which became suddenly about showing some sort of relationship between myself and this iron dark or semi-light squareness rather than about me exploring the darkness for me. The difference is subtle yet massive.

Performance presence, supposedly something we can ‘tune into’, a state we can reach for ourselves in individual practice or within a group of trusted openlabbers, and yet as soon as I sense I’m being watched the experience is changed. Almost a longing to go back to the darkness to be alone and move for me, a place where no one can see what I’m doing but it still exists for me. And sometimes wanting to be in the light, wanting to be seen. I am not weird? Am I weird? Are we all? Does it matter?

Not right now, not today, not for me. This is or was more a self-indulgent yearning to explore and then ‘sketch’ through movement than to scream out LOOK AT ME!!! Which is not to say you cannot look at me. You are welcome to be a witness to my experience. But what if I had wanted my being present to pull you in as an audience? Is that not what performance is about? To pull an audience’s eye?