Birdhouse: (noun) an artificial nesting place.
What is it like to have a body that will always be dependent on technologies, that will always be dependent on others? How does this inevitable dependence inform the relationship with the body, the relationship with technology, relationships with the self and with others? We are told to love our bodies by thinking of all that they do instead of how they appear. How does this rhetoric apply to bodies that are incapable of functioning fully, to bodies that will never be entirely self-sufficient? How does this rhetoric apply to the body, or parts of the body, that does not/do not “do”? What about the cyborg body? How can we begin to think of (inter)dependence as an inherent part of living in a body? How can we reconfigure the idea of what makes a good or adequate body?
This film takes previously filmed diaristic footage of myself inserting a continuous glucose monitor for the first time, guided by somebody from tech support on speaker phone, as well as footage of insulin injecting and blood sugar tests, and combines it with found footage of a documentary on birdhouses. These moments are put in conversation with one another in order to examine the questions listed above. Sometimes I feel like my body is a birdhouse (but there are too many holes and I can't tell which one is the entrance).
a short experimental film I made for my final "Time class" project at Parsons The New School for Design.
It's a film about the nonlinear process of self-identification, and the eternal process of becoming and performing the identities that have been ascribed to us and that inevitably produce us.
*I do not claim to own the rights to this music.*
For inspirational purposes only.
(Late Anthropocene by Brian Eno, Intermission: Flower by Zayn, Huracán by Monsieur Periné)