Comfort (2009) was the piece I had in the New Breed show. The idea came to me on the first anniversary of my mother’s passing. The piece marks a turning point for me as it is deeply personal – all my other artwork deals mainly with social, cultural or political issues. It is also my first performance piece, something I had never done in the past. I ended up spending an hour everyday at the gallery during the course of the exhibition to give massages.
Here is what the wall text says:
“My mother passed away on September 18, 2008, after a year and a half of fighting cancer. During her time of sickness, I would regularly give her hand and foot massages. The act of touching gave us comfort at a time when nothing was left to be said.”
The artist will be giving massages to willing participants. You may choose to receive either a hand or foot massage, or both. If you would like a foot massage, please remove your shoes, wipe your feet with wet wipes and put on the slippers provided. The artist will motion you to enter when she is ready. She will remain silent during the massage, and will tap your shoulder when she is finished.
You are welcome to leave comments in the notebook provided.
The waiting area – there is a comment book for participants to leave comments
the massage area – there was a curtain that blocked it off from the waiting area
a clock to keep time, tissues, latex gloves (in case the participants had nasty cuts), hand sanitizer, moisturizer (better than oils as it doesn’t leave stains on clothes)
in action
leaving comments
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In preparation for Comfort, I spoke to several massage therapists. I thought it would be nice to add a ‘professional touch’ to my massage routine, and so I considered getting a crash course in massage therapy. However, after I worked on massage therapist Rebecca Burke’s hands and feet, thinking that she would give me pointers as to what needed to be improved with my ‘protocol’, she said the most compelling thing of all: “what was good enough for your mother is good enough for everyone else.” And that was the end of my training. During the course of my performance, I realised that the most important thing was to truly care and to communicate that in touch – and people will feel comforted simply from that.
Speaking to guest artists and critics about the idea also made me realise that after I share my story with someone, more often than not they are compelled to share a story in response. I didn’t really realise this until one of the critics, Cara Ober, pointed out just how important it is to allow the participants to speak back, and to document such response. Such response has become an intergral part to my project – I noticed that once I opened up and shared my story, others would want to share their own stories of loss, life and death as well; Comfort became a platform for talking, mourning and celebrating what is usually left unspoken, and what is universally experienced.
I want to thank Maren Hassinger for her continual encouragement – I don’t think I would have had the courage to put this together without her support. The piece started off in dedication to my mother – in many ways it still is. At the same time it has also grown to be something bigger – it’s now about Maren’s mother, it was her mother’s massage table that I used, as well as Alonzo Davis‘ father, and the baby in the pregnant woman’s belly, and the MICA undergrad who’s father is fighting cancer at this very moment, and the Rinehart student who’s just had a rough day at the studio and needs a hand massage.
You can read the comments people left here.