Final Studio work 2012 - Part One

In the end, the room was completely black inside unless the curtain was opened. All you could do when inside was focus on the breathing.  As I experienced the work myself, I felt something that I hadn't counted on, which was the sense that the boundary between my body and the space around me disappeared. The blackness of the room created an encounter where the audience and the space became one, where you were the breath. 

It was also a strange, almost nauseating feeling, since I found it hard to balance my body properly due to the sensory deprivation. I am not sure how I feel about this still, but it is something I could potentially explore in future works. Sensory deprivation- how the body reacts and copes with it. 

The video below is a documentation of the breathing being played inside the room. Unconscious, automatic breathing. 

Contextual Statement 2012

"In the past few months my practice has taken an intense interest in the human body, breathing in particular. I am drawn to all aspects of it, the movement it generates through us, the sound, the rhythm, the beat. I enjoy the thought that my audience may fall into conscious breathing when experiencing my work, to take notice of the air coming in and the breath going out.

Capturing the essence of breath through sound/light/image, and with it altering or creating a space. Whether it be a room or only a portion of it. To at least for a moment make way for awareness in the audiences experience with their own breathing. By modifying or creating a space where the audience can be a part of rather than look from the outside in on, I am able to open the doors into a deeper experience: where not noticing the air entering and leaving the viewers body becomes almost impossible, and the choice of breathing together or alone rises before them. Can a synchronisation between spectator and work take place? How does each work affect the body?

By way of sensory deprivation the audience can do nothing but focus on their own individuality, their own breathing and from there an endless cloud of questions and ideas can emerge: the first breath, the last breath, the lack of breath, the breath we take every day. ‘The focus is less on writing and on the present moment as always already passed (a lament), but on experience, and on the present moment as the product of a particular type of encounter (an analysis.)”^1"

^{Josie Do Nizza (2012)}