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Unmade 

Performed by Hat Fidkin and Jos Brett 2022

at ‘Living Womb’ Curated by Esmee Turelj 

Galleries , Bristol.

Soundscape is extended drone
Hat and Jos sit back to back.
They perform their text (below) until the dashed line.
At dash line Hat wraps Jos up in muslin - inspired Japanese Swaddling therapy - meant to simulate the womb.
Hat sits with legs wrapped around the swaddled Jos.
The text is continued as Jos is rocked back and forth.
Unmade Performance Text written By Hat Fidkin and Jocelyn Brett
SPOKEN BY BOTH HAT AND JOS
spoken by Hat
spoken by Jos
Is the Mother a gap on the physical level that links human beings together in a sense of united loss? 
 
FOR YOUR DEW IS A DEW OF LIGHT
 
AND THE EARTH SHALL GIVE BIRTH TO THE DEAD.
​
 
Year 2094
 
Something happened here.
A confrontation with the divine so intense that everything is changed forever.
The cities burned and the floods washed away what was left. 
Every human heart melted when the trumpet sounded.  The shells of the dead rose, and on that day ~ 
 
 
I shrivelled, and my body became a corpse within which I was trapped. 
The empty eyes of my sockets scared me when I looked in the mirror.
Please unmake me
I am asking you mother, if you exist, 
You made me. So put me back. 

 
The sky is the colour of wheat when they stir.
Grinding bones into dust, quenching carnal desires.
No longer are we merely human; temporal; worldly.
Sagging and wrinkled, 
Piled in corners.
Flea-riddled husks outside, 
but our viscera housing a macrocosm.


 
Atoms bursting with energy 
grind together in painful friction. 
Agony.
Split them.
Use them.
 
I am here alive without life. 
 
Unmake me. Make me everything and nothing. 
All at once. I want it all at once. 

 
YOUR DEAD SHALL LIVE, THEIR BODIES SHALL RISE
 
YOU WHO DWELL IN THE DUST, AWAKE AND SING FOR JOY !

 
Splayed open like a deer to be gutted,
ribcage filled with green beetle wings,
gossamer shimmer undulates. 
When I look inside of her I am there and so is the entirety of everything.
I put my tongue into the wound and taste the salt of the earth around its torn edges 
Breathing in a heady mix of hydrogen and helium.
Parturient ecstasy, burning at my thighs.
 
A being that no longer walks 
but hovers 
floating untethered. 
forgetting what it was to feel soil.

 
Tear open her womb and you will find a worm 
burrowing through the sovereign purple flesh-scape. 
Digesting what remains, drinking amniotic sap.
 
 
Hollow out a crevice in your stomach and let me crawl inside.
I want to be in you, close protected by you. Shrouded in your warmth.
Carve away at yourself until I can fit.
 
Let me in and let me take over. 

 
The pressure before relief, release. 
But this pressure is not the pressure of pleasure but of time, the non-existent entity pushing, squeezing. 
You can feel its presence in boredom.
 
​
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I am sinue. 
Chunks of me blob together, break apart. 
A blood clot / your blood clot. 

 
You let me taint your body with my presence. 
Fill your blood with my shit.
Leave you crying mucus.
 
A glucose river strained through needle teeth.
Bloody-throated, she gargles hymns to soothe the neoplasm
as ochre sands pour from her wounds,
now light enough to cease her sink towards the mantle. 

 
Suck a stamen, choke on the dirt
 
You can turn the whole earth into a fetish if you want it bad enough.
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