I already knew that Natalie’s work was concerned with the body; the invitation to watch the performance was illustrated by a tweezer – what was this going to be? I was already thinking about my own conflicted history with hair and depilation while I walked over to the studio. As a young woman in the 70’s I had ‘loved’ my body hair – and left it alone as was the norm for my group – only really being happy with that after a year abroad had effectively bleached it invisible. My relationship with wanted and unwanted hair continues to change, as do the available techniques and methods for promoting its growth and removal. However my chief anticipation of a plucking performance was of a succession of short swift moves evoking mixed recollections – including discomfort, pleasure/pain, tedium, and the mild satisfaction of a job done.
I was unprepared for my encounter with Natalie in performance. She was sat on the floor in a dark space – she and three small transparent receptacles in a row beside her were bathed in a golden light. The contrast between her long dark shiny head of hair and dark soft clothing, and her now golden lit bare arms and lower legs, seemed sculptural as she moved slowly about her business. What was her business? This wasn’t plucking as I knew it. There was a slow grace in her movements – was she really removing her leg hair – it looked so effortless. Yes she was. Her grounded attention and focus to the process gave each act such gravity, every hair was of equal importance. I was becoming immersed in her process.
I had come to watch and draw – I was unsure now – would my drawing disturb her? Would marking the moments be too puncturing? How would drawing affect my attention to her process?
I was glad I had brought an oil stik and concertina note book – because as I allowed myself to be with a new way of plucking – I was able to continue to move the soft dark stik over the paper in a soft gentle response. I could caress the paper as she seemed to be caressing her body as she plucked. I experienced some synergy with her movements and almost forgot she was removing her hair.
Then – just as I was settling into her and my rhythm something changed – Ouch – she has moved – equally gracefully into a new position – and had started to pluck hair from under her arms. Her experience appeared to be continuous — mine wasn’t. Ouch. I moved my oil stik more stabbily and more quickly – instead of being able to respond to her experience – my experience of removing underarm hair had taken over – the drawings were now more about me my body and my memories of hair removal. Ouch.
However as I continued to watch – – her continued attention and focus drew me back to her process – – each hair – – each movement – – carefully considered – – each taking – – just as much time as it needed.
Neither plucking nor drawing will be quite the same next time.
