Today I walked in the mud to the portable performance studio and thought about how the construction creates the mud, not the lack of landscaping. If the weeds and brush were able to grow there would at least be some sort of cover on the ground. As it was my feet were sliding in the tracks of large machinery.

The studio is a place to roll around on the ground, run and be – embodied. Yet for many reasons I felt isolated, alienated, irritated and toxified. The floors are still off gassing and my feet and hands were black…It is not a dance floor it is a running track. I ran. Then I put on some music and got all floating and out of my body. As I was bouncing around, exhausting myself I looked outside at the tree branches, the clouds breaking, the patches of blue sky and I wondered what I was doing in a studio…The body in an environment. If I was going to be in an environment I would inhabit the space. Inhabiting the space meant not just using the floor, the walls and the heat, but being in the space. I rolled over to the point where the floor meets the wall and started to crawl on my hands and knees. My shoulder kept contact with the wall, my hands slapped on the floor and my knees – hurt. I tried not to clunk my knees on the floor (no knee pads) but I couldn’t control the way my hands reached the floor.  I made my way around the perimeter of the space, in awe of how much it hurt to keep going, even though I knew I wasn’t doing damage to myself, I was just out of practice…The perimeter crawl, shoulder/arm rubbing against the vinyl siding, hair sensing the corners before the rest of my body, was a journey about sacrifice of a sort. I did not step sideways into the dance. I stayed in the real. I did not use my feet. I stayed on my hands and knees.

Walking videos. I have made a conscious choice, (an ethical one?) to walk to the bus stop, walk around the university, walk as much as possible. What is the relationship between walking and sacrifice?