In preparing for a live performance in March, I definitely felt some sparks go off while watching this piece.
She offers a story, but it can be read as a billion different narratives. The feminine tones speak loudly–roses, white dresses, flowers, milk. I chuckle at times, then I am pricked by a faint anguish, then melancholy. As she walks through a series of actions, dismissing theatrical pretending, she draws on not only the feminine, but hints at religous ritual and ambiguous, yet universal political postures.
I enjoy making connections between objects. Why does she hold the roses in her mouth while the lady whispers in her ear? Why not pour the milk on her head before whispering into her ear? Why push the plates along the ground instead of carry them? Why two white dresses instead of one?
All of these questions are left unanswered for me to answer to formulate my own sense; I lay my own purpose and meaning, like a blanket, over her scripted actions (if it’s scripted). For me, this allowance makes the piece successful.