- Venue
- Manchester Opera House
- Location
Five o'clock, and eleven of us put our visors on, seeing normally for the last time. Half the world disappears; replaced by an upside down sliver of it. Soon the sickness starts, feeling nauseous, cold sweats… but after an hour or so, the fun begins…
Running, jumping, minding you don't trip over the top of the doorframe; stairs, then the street. Manchester. Things hanging from shelves, travelling vertically up escalators, strolling through the leaves of trees stretching out below? above? you. Your head is level with everybody else‘s, but their bodies are shooting upward, they're standing on a ground different to your own. Cars roll along the ground above you.
Everything is exhausting. Looking upside down, back to front, trying to get to know new people without eye contact. You have to learn to trust those around you, your independence gone.
Gradually things become easier, you can put toothpaste on your brush, knives and forks remain challenging. You anticipate puddles and curbs, planning several paces ahead. The seaside is a treat. No obstacles, the double vision from the mirror is not such a problem here. The sea looks like a long water-dune, sitting on top of the horizon.
We talk, meet Carsten Holler, they tell us about the show. We eat, drink and sleep. As time passes we realise that this is very different from what we'd first thought. This experiment has gone beyond the confines of a study in how the brain reacts. This has become an exercise in experience. It is unique, we're all coping with it differently, but together.
The show arrives. I see it upside down. I watch three people I've been with for eight days go back to normality. I hold my breath, so do the others. We don't know what is happening.
Afterwards we see our fellow volunteers goggle-less and elated. I feel trapped, I want to take them off and enjoy the party. But I endure another day. Anticipation, nerves and butterflies build. We get tucked in by the dresser, somewhat more personal than expected but a bit of light hearted relief.
Finally we get to the stage. I answer one question, I'm not that bothered about it but then they take off the masks. I've found it difficult to keep one eye open and I've felt the strain of constant double vision. I keep my eyes closed as my visor is removed and then open them
It takes a few days to get back to… sort of normal, its not the same though. Even ten days on, its like watching everything through your eyes. When I got back to Nottingham, that really hit home. I knew where I was and where I was going but I found that the Nottingham I came back to was very different to the one I'd left. Its like your brain doesn't really trust what its being told. Hands the same, its all via request rather than automatic. I've had to re-learn how I see.
Artist working mostly with sculpture, animation and installation having graduated from Fine Art at Nottingham Trent
