“We don’t talk, we write.” I painfully decipher the purple notebook she is holding near my leg. On stage Sons of Kemet are playing ‘My Queen is Julia Cooper’. I close my eyes. THE REACTIONS PLEASURE EMOTION VISION SMELL TASTE TOUCH HEARING THE VOCAL CORDS THE CRIES THE WAILS THE MURMURS. I love her handwriting. She is not writing, she is drawing, and at the moment I can’t stop smiling. THE HOARSENESS THE SOBS THE SHRIEKS. “Deal.” The letters appear on my screen. First word scripted in months. The keyboard squeaks. THE VOCIFERATION THE WORDS THE SILENCES THE WHISPERS THE MODULATIONS THE SONGS THE STRIDENCY THE LAUGHS THE VOCAL OUTBURSTS THE LOCOMOTION. Gosh, I love that song.
When people ask me what I am doing, I answer “I write, eh!” I am not lying. I used to write. I lost the language. I stopped articulating. That’s my story.
“And what do you write about? What is your field?” asked Solé the first time
“About cultural perspectives and ceramics.”
“Say it again.”
“About how we are eating each other.”
THE FAT THE PHOSPHORUS THE MERCURY THE CALCIUM THE GLUCOSE THE IODINE THE ORGANS THE BRAIN THE HEART THE LIVER THE VISCERA THE VULVA THE MYCOSE THE FERMENTATION THE VILLOSITY THE DECAY THE NAILS THE TEETH THE HAIR THE SKIN. Eyes open. She is gone. The song of the brasses is cracking my chest. A cold breeze is coming in. Fuck I miss her.
Eating Each Other follows a series of performative dinners and is Chabanon’s second solo exhibition in Wellington. The exhibition introduces her current research into Aotearoa New Zealand’s colonial history, the Arts and Crafts movement and intellectual property rights through handmade ceramic works and collaborative elements.