As the weeks go by in this process I find myself at a emotional and mental standstill. The piece is driving me insane. Reliving why a relationship failed over and over again is not fun. It’s like this continuous cycle of researching, looking into, and reflecting on the idea of love and, as the artist, I realised I had caused this predicament for myself. I have such a lack of experience of love and the ones I did have where far from blissful. Here I had created a show which almost celebrated this failure of the first true love I had. Just like a recurring night terror I would relive this until the performance and perhaps even then. It sounds insane, but I actually seem to rely on the mannequins. I can project any negative emotion onto them and they won’t say anything. They will just be there.

It does sound completely irrational and ridiculous but as the runs of the show go on and the emotions become more real I find that the mannequins that are watching me are acting as much as a suit of armour for me as the character of the Singer are. They are empty lifeless beings, vessels if you would, that I can create backstories for and give them a identity.

The main mannequin currently is the one I seem to identify with more. He is lifeless. He lacks any limbs and doesn’t speak but thats fine. As the Singer I will make him accept me as one of his own, a mannequin a statue if you would. As the Singer, I have decided to dress him in my own clothes and give him his own identity. If I give him all of my most treasured items will he then in turn love me? This is the questions I must ask myself to make this real as the performer. Below is the prototype for the base head and body of the main mannequin:

(Davies. K, 2015, Mannequin)

Before the show starts I will stand at the microphone, still and tense with no movement whatsoever. This is my tribute to the mannequins here, as I try and change everything about my being to become one. The character of the Singer has this dichotomy almost in which he knows what he is doing is ridiculous, brazen and plain stupid yet he still does it. This search for love from anything has poisoned him and in turn I feel like it is poisoning me as the artist and performer. As the performer I have just come fresh of a break up and now I must become this entity who wants to replicate himself as a lifeless vessel because he is in love with it. It sound’s so terribly pretentious and difficult but the idea of Solo Performance, to me, is that anything produced has to be real and honest. If you are lying then I don’t think, personally, that the audience will get behind you and support your work. Solo requires you to delve deep into your soul and your mind and dig furiously to figure yourself out. It’s therapy, a brutal one at that, but it’s probably the best form of therapy I’ve ever had.

I must be going mad, talking about loving mannequins and how I seem to have this bi-polar with the character of the singer, but I know that the end result will be a remedy for me to move on and be happy again. As cheesy as it sounds.