Breasts, Brains, And Brawn

I have just come out of a meeting with my supervisor and feel like I could easily vomit. Shaky, disassociating, almost out of body, panicked, on the verge of tears and possibly hyperventilation. And its not a bad thing at all.

I am reminded that writing is a physical process. That I need to push my body to its limits, that this is what my work is about in so many ways, the boundaries of what the body, my body, is capable of. Since I have returned to study I have felt like I should get into training, my body is craving large plates of green vegetables and litres of water and long walks and stretches before and after each bout of writing. I get incredibly hungry when I am at my desk, which I used to ascribe to boredom or procrastination until I realised that thinking uses up more kilojoules than I had ever given it credit for. Brain and brawn are not opposing forces. I'm not just writing about the body, I am writing with the body, I am writing the body. (Geez, I probably sound like a second year cultural studies student, but its one thing to know something with your mind and another to comprehend it with your flesh.)

At the moment I have much to learn and ponder about using my practice as a research methodology, and how to incorporate this into my dissertation. When I began considering including performance pieces alongside the written work I conceptualised these almost as illustrations for the text, a way of adding clarity and explanation. Now I place these works (or more the process of creating them) as the text, and the words as the way of making sense and debate of what has been said. I'm lost, a little, as have never done anything like this before, but not only does it feel right, it feels necessary.