As a response to Sophia Bartholomew’s resolute parka, I’ve made myself a protective garment from the envelopes of feathers resulting from the very beginning stage of faisan. This cuirass is to be worn during solitary performances of the everyday, the artistic, and the mundane activities that mark my private time. It is to be a brace against avoidance or inertia, and as a celebration of work and leisure.
Yesterday morning I wore the cuirass for a run. Struggling this month to get going in the (beautiful) studio during this (self-imposed) residency, running is once again a reassuring spring practice. Just as it was to run along moss flocked roads in rural France when I started this project.
I first headed down the dirt road, actually named Back Road, but remembered to go back for the cuirass. When I returned to the studio to put on the strange garment, I decided I’d be less self-conscious if I ran through the woods behind the property. As I entered the woods path, there was a unmistakable noise and flutter. Out of the bush lifted a pheasant, colourful in his regalia. As I ran, laughing and blessed on my route, I noticed the sound of my hand running downwards across the envelopes of feathers now covering my torso; satisfyingly similar to that of the pheasant’s launch. I lept joyfully across fallen wood on a dappled trail. Braced.