Warm liquid dripping from my insides

Sun's so bright in the morning

Spitting out my sense of self

To become part of the water in the sink

A long-durational performance expressing different ways of communicating through human and non-human bodies. It questions ideas of gender binaries and challenges heteronormative ideas of legacy. Proposing queer and asexual forms of reproduction, connection and intimacy. 

The work is inspired by the shapes of slugsex and the way slugs and snails use slime to communicate with each other. They use chemo-receptors to "taste" where they are and who they're with. The performance draws parallels between queerness and the fact that slugs can be both male and female at the same time.

Slime holds many things within itself, it is both monsterly and protective, sticky and slippery, liquid and solid. It is both part of bodies and part of the environment, it becomes the space in between. For slugs it is a way to communicate and find each other, for me it is the part of my body that is malleable and open. While slime is an integral part of all human bodies, we generally only share it during moments of intimacy. In this work slime takes up its own space where there is room for different ways of communicating, transformation and forms of intimacy where there is time to listen to queer and non-human bodies. Where, like a slug, I can be between genders. Where thoughts and art can be its own form of reproduction and outcome. Where I can be liquid without spilling out everywhere. The slime in my body is neither male or female. 

As a trans person, slime gives me a place to belong. I was on a waiting list for almost 4 years to receive any type of gender affirming care. This made me feel like I've been forced to stay in the space in between for a long time. Thinking with slime gives me comfort and tells me I have always been in multiple bodies already.

I and my slime wait together for my skin to catch up to the way I feel inside.