S4DAC
LINKS
Copyright 2003-05
Society for Disability Arts & Culture
S4DAC
LINKS
Copyright 2003-05
Society for Disability Arts & Culture
What is the relationship between body-fixated Cyborg Theory and a body's whose original integrity has been disassembled, and reassembled with cyborg extentions?
The image of the child is derived from a photo taken at my first communion in 1959. I chose this image because it reflects the essential self that is the same regardless of outward changes.
I am interested in how the viewer responds to the same body with and without visible "cyborgisms".
The viewer is invited to select and apply labels to these images.
Phil Davis was born March 20, 1966 and has been painting and drawing since High School. Phil joined the ArtWorks program in January 2000 and explores a wide range of mediums including pencil crayons, watercolour, acrylic and pen and ink. He has a natural artistic ability and a willingness to experiment with all mediums.
Phil’s travels to Mexico and Hawaii provide inspiration and new themes for his art. Phil is interested in Egypt and Middle Eastern countries, and enjoys books on science fiction, robots, castles, rock climbing and caving. Phil loves animals, especially his departed dog, Fluffy Davis. Phil’s favorite holiday is Halloween, he never tires of drawing bats, owls and anything related to the season.
Phil went to the library to research robots for the Cyborg art project. He found books on Artificial Intelligence, robotics and machine evolution and took great interest in pictures from the movie “Star Wars.” Phil has depicted himself as the robot “C3P0” from “Star Wars” and included Artworks Coordinator Bonnie Laird as “R2D2.” He also looked through new car advertising and was inspired to draw a picture of the inside of a car with close attention to detail.
Phil is excited about the Cyborg project and is looking forward to the Vancouver exhibition of his work.
Gender and disability affect every part of my life, all the time, and I'm always passing. I pass as a girl, or I pass as a boy - neither one fits, but those are my only choices. My closest "Girl" friends have all turned out to be boys. What's wrong with me that I can't make the change and take it like a man? Is it Gender Identity Disorder?
Nah. The truth is, I'm gender stupid not gender queer (gender queer being that excellent phrase bandied about that I use as a descriptor for my self,) but I realize gender stupid may be more accurate, like gender dyslexic or something- gender and disability together always. So I have this robodick I can take on and off. I'm not a man or a woman, I'm a cyborg.
Learning disabled is the diagnosis and I pass there too, in the same slippery double-take way of my gender-passing. I pass for normal -- no one would know that I went to the stupid classes in the stupid school. Spellcheck is my robodick and no one has to know how long it takes me to write. I can even read Big books. Slowly. But when I say, "I have a disability" I'm still passing. I can say the words, enter the art shows, but I know I don't belong, just like when I put on a dress.
I'm good at some things, bad at others - that's not disabled, any more than being Deaf is. But the things I'm bad at mean I'm not normal either. Not a boy, not a girl, not normal, not disabled.
Stupid
Welcome to the waiting room!
When I first heard about a show about ‘cyborgs and disability,’ I thought it had nothing to do with me. I am not a cyborg and I don’t want to be. I don’t use any machines in my daily life, at least none specifically related to my disability (Multiple Sclerosis). I am not melded with any artificial limbs, or any medically related machines. Hell, I don’t use a scooter, or even a cane. I would, if I had to, but I don’t yet.
But the word ‘cyborg’ lingered in my head, an insistent perspective on my comings and goings. Does using my phone make me a cyborg? what about my computer? how about the bus? that fan that makes the summer bearable with heat sensitivity? Many many maybes. I realized my definition of cyborg was too narrow. In fact it seemed like what I had had in mind before might be an able-bodied definition, a picture of a cyborg that came from the life of someone who doesn’t live with a disability. I started thinking about what I am, instead of those mechanical cyborg stereotypes. I started thinking about how people with disabilities actually make our way in the world. We find the assistance we need where we can, and we become what we have to.
So I realized that in my life, I am a cyborg a lot of the time. That is, I use a lot of assistance that is not an organic part of my body, but is an organic part of my life. Mostly, for now, I use the people around me, to walk and carry and shop and, oh, many things. If only other people with disabilities had access to the cyborg possibilities I do, I thought. If only. And then I went to the Yoga With MS class, and sat with other people with disabilities and watched as they and their assistants became yoga cyborgs. ‘My children are my legs,’ said one woman in conversation after class. Yes, I think, this is how we do it. We are these cyborgs.
(This piece is a thank you to the people in my life who make me functional, especially Suzo Hickey.)
With a special guest appearance by performance and media artist Archer Pechawis on opening night.
Happiness consists of two depression incubation tents and an Astroturf exercise area holding various exercise accoutrements. The performance artists pull themselves from their individual tents and set about their tasks of improving their mood and altering their bodies through exercise. The amount of enthusiasm conveyed through their body movements as they negotiate the equipment represents the immediate nature of their moods, and their ability or inability to muster the energy necessary to apply towards their exercise routines. At times, their energy levels rise as a result of caffeine, endorphins, or any other myriad of synthetic substitutions of happiness.
Born in '73 and raised in Vancouver my whole life. In 1997 I broke my neck at a C-4-5 level, confining me to a wheelchair. I don't need to work as I am financially secure. I have no brain injury, and I have very limited control of my hands. I basically just need to entertain myself while waiting for the cure so I can get back on with my life. I don't expect much, all in all I do this for my entertainment and healing, and hopefully for others as well.
How did it happen?
On August 21, 1997, my 2000 lb bobcat tipped off the second floor of the former Woodward's Department Store building. Plummeting down 60 feet to land on Cordova Street, I remember thinking on the way down, "boy do I have a story to tell"!
My neck was broken at the C-4 level (3 levels below Christopher Reeve's). Speedy medical care prevented more damage. But now I live with: incomplete quadriplegia, one third my former lung capacity, and half my former blood pressure and shoulder and bicep capability. My triceps, wrists, and fingers don't work yet. Using adaptive splints I am able to eat most foods by myself, brush my teeth, play on the computer, and drive my power chair, but it is a struggle. Trying to get the sleep out of my eyes has never been more frustrating. When my nose is plugged I don't have the power to blow so with the help of someone we have to work it out together. (These problems are just the tip of the iceberg!)
It's a serious struggle. People say I'm lucky to be alive. At times I beg to differ. I listen to Christopher Reeve, talking about nerve regeneration, and I think "Ya one day, I will walk again!" I have the support of my family, friends and staff with every step (pardon the pun).
If you look at the side of "My Backless Dress", you can see that this is built onto an orange "E-Z Tracer". The "E-Z Tracer" is how I light my x-ray. But this "Debutante’s" dress is decorated with the unique imprints from my own Healing Hands. I choose the "E-Z Tracer" to symbolize an idea in western culture that "we" are able to construct a perfect definition, then people are fit into this. It is just like having your original on the "E-Z Tracer" and making copy after copy. In my life's experience, I've found being put on the "E-Z Tracer" is far more painful and crippling then my disability is. This is because vital parts of my identity must be made invisible so I can be fit into a definition that is made by someone else.
When my "Rods" were installed in 1969, I was told that I'd be "fixed", and made "normal". I am a reluctant "Cyborg" because no one thought to ask me if I wanted this "fixing". I was 12. I never did feel "fixed" or "normal" (whatever normal is). I'd look at my scarred and still crooked back in the mirror, and I'd feel like a "normal impersonator". I could never do the impersonation quite right, no matter how hard I tried. By 1989 I was so exhausted that I was given the definition of "Disabled".
But then, when I said I was Disabled, there would be people who would question what it is that is "wrong" with me. They could not see that my "assistive devices" had been built right into my body, so that I look cosmetically straighter. My Chronic Pain is invisible to everyone but me. Now I have made "My Backless Dress" to speak for me. Plug it in. Turn it on. See beneath my skin. .I have just survived yet another "E-Z Tracer" ordeal-the 23 page re-application for my BC Disability Benefits. I am ready to become beyond naked so I can speak about what you cannot see.
All of my Art is how I claim my own inner territory. With my Art I create a space for me to Be. I have Nature in my Art because Nature is clear-cut and rearranged, but it grows back with Beauty. This is what inspires me. My Art celebrates the sacred (so-called) "weed" that has managed to grow through the pavement. I am Broken. I am Healed. I am Beautiful. I am Deformed. I live with my Chronic Pain. I am gifted with my Creativity. My back is my Transformational Butterfly. I love my back, just as it is, Rods and All. I become weaker in my body, and at the same time I become spiritually stronger. I am living a mystery which I don't have words for, so I make my Art about this. My Art is my own definition of me.
