<- Back

"Hiding Places"

Materials: Mixed Media- cabinet, umbrella parts, googly eyes, plastic eggs, vending machine capsules, wheels, mirror, balloons, shower curtain, etc.

What is a hiding place? Is it a cocoon or a bomb shelter? Do you have to physically go away to hide? Can you hide by disguising yourself even without a costume?

In this piece I played with de-constructing objects to give them new identities, hiding objects inside of other objects, transparency of materials, and the sense of being watched.

I have been keeping a journal of my dreams this semester. The following dream is about hiding in a new identity, and being found out.

I also handed out surveys to the students of our class, to find out about what hiding places they have, and what theses places mean to them. The results of these surveys were paired with the images in each "drawer" of the cupboard.

* * *
Chad Hopper had a trapeze that he could hang from anything, even the air. With it he did a combination of acrobatics and magic. Often he would go door to door with his equipment, and perform for whoever was home. He had the most amazing way about him, like Mr. Rogers. As he would do each trick he explained the way it worked, so children wouldn’t be scared. He was the most beloved man in dreamland.

He never actually meant to start a circus. He just set up a small tent to perform in, and soon other people joined him. All of the members of the Night Viking band were in it- Amanda experimented with a toy kitchenette, while Sam wheeled about in a shopping cart shouting nonsense.

There was a twirling dancer named Swan. She had blond hair and a flowing white dress that flared out as she spun. Her dance was simple, all she ever did was twirl, but you could see a spark of true joy in her, as if she were completely free. No one knew much about her, only that she had quit her previous life to come dance in the circus.

But then a woman showed up from her past, a colleague from grad school. As she passed by the circus, she recognized Swan, twirling her white dress in a circle. The woman grabbed her arm and began to shout. It turned out that Swan had gone to grad school with this woman, for classical dance. And, according to her colleague, this dancing Swan was doing was not “real” dance. Swan burst into tears and ran away.

Her aggressor turned to leave, but I chased her, across the street, into a school. I got close, and jumped and tackled her. I explained to her how important the circus was to everyone, how much it meant to Swan. Her face began to soften, and I knew she understood.