Amanda Ellis on CHONDRIASIS

1. Inspiration

Daniel asked us pretty early on to articulate our most burning questions – ones that we find ourselves asking a hundred times a day or ones that we can’t seem to find an answer to. It could be anything, something very base and simple or something a little more philosophical and intangible. I found that I do ask myself a single question a hundred times a day and its usually a variation of “Am I getting sick?” or “Am I already violently ill?” or “I have symptoms, what do they mean?” and this led to one big question: “WHY am I obsessively paranoid about my health?”

2. Process

I’ve found that these very real fears about my health are part of such an internal experience that it is very hard to articulate exactly what it feels like, and even more difficult to try to seek counsel in someone who couldn’t possibly understand my situation if they’ve never experienced something similar themselves. I am well aware my fears are unfounded; I know it seems ridiculous. Therefore, the only way I’ve ever been able to express even the slightest part of this internal state has been through humor, and consequently the only reaction I’ve ever received has also been joking: “Shut up Amanda, you’re completely insane” and other responses of that nature. So, I initially thought my piece would be funny and I brought in some rough drafts that were parodies of this experience: frantic phone calls with my impatient mother, exaggerated mime sequences of blowing symptoms out of proportion, etc. But like the fleeting conversations that inspired these drafts, they were lacking in real substance.

Daniel challenged me to go to the “dark place that keeps me up at night” and in doing so, I found two things: that in these fits of debilitating paranoia, I ache desperately for anyone to assure me I’m okay (though it never actually calms me down or makes me feel better), and I blame most of these problems on the internet for making so much medical information so easily accessible. That is where my piece is currently.

3. Virtual Mentor

Of all the performance artists whose work we have experienced, viewed, and studied over the course of the past 3 months, the artist who stuck with me the most was Jen Hofer. Jen Hofer is a poet, translator, interpreter, and letter-writer, among many other things. She came to visit our class in September when she was in town with her piece, “Escritorio Publico.” This piece is something she does in various public spaces across the country (Union Square, for example). She sets up a small table and a typewriter, and invites people to come sit down with her and talk to her about what they’d like her to write in a letter. She charges something like, a dollar for a regular letter, $3 for a love letter, and $5 for an explicit love letter. The person employing her services can dictate to her exactly what they’d like written or tell her a general idea of what they’d like to communicate and she takes some poetic liberties. She addresses it and stamps it and trusts that in most cases, the intended receiver will receive the finished letter. What struck me so much about this piece and what has stayed with me is that Jen offers herself as a mediator between a person and someone they may have something difficult to say to. She sets up a very specific structure - table, typewriter, public space – and invites, but does not force, encounters of extreme intimacy and trust between strangers (Jen rarely knows the person she is writing a letter for).

My piece certainly does not emulate the structure of “Escritorio Publico,” and whether or not Jen’s work is even considered “performance” I believe is up for discussion. I did however, keep her in the back of my mind throughout my process with this piece, and it definitely had some influence over the beginning moments, especially.