I remember quite well of the many times that, tired, my father asked me to treat his stiff and wretched neck.
A request that became a habit.
A habit that turned into a performance.
Contractures.
Stress.
Worries.
Scurries.
Pain.
Physical.
Mental.
Spiritual.
Everybody feels pain.
While many people passed me by in the frantic rhythm of the city, I stood: immovable, static, available. On the lookout for the micro-pains that daily encrust the body.
“I exchange your pain for a massage” is a traveling performance that creates, in places of passage, or “non-places”, a device to engender relationships and encounters from a tactile knowledge.
Exchanges via con(tact) that aim to explore, in the meeting between skins, the boundaries and the limits between the I and the world, the I and the other in order to draw “an atlas of the skin that is also an atlas of the human being-in-the-world” (Vilém Flusser).
~ Cities ~
