Hypertension was a solo dance piece - a kind of a solo silent disco. It was performed at Emergency 2019: A Day out for the curious at NIAMOS - the former Hulme Playhouse - on Saturday, 21 September. It was performed three times at 2pm, 3pm and 4pm. Each performance lasted twenty minutes and each was performed to a different soundtrack: a fact the audience would not necessarily have been aware of. But the tracks were carefully chosen to give me a variety of movement and all captured in some sense the ideas behind the piece.
The first and starting inspiration for Hypertension - a word that sounds as if it should have multiple meanings but in effect has only one: high blood pressure. I have been getting told every time my blood pressure is taken that it is is too high - and sometimes troublingly high. The last time it was taken the nurse, looked then turned away saying: oh that's so high I can't even look.
I have made little effort to tackle my blood pressure: reluctant to become dependent on a daily regimen of statins, defeated by two cancelled appointments by my medical practice when I felt ready to tackle it and a general sense of defeat, fear and exhaustion at the prospect.
I have tried to moderate my salt intake, avoid ready meals and prepared foods with a high salt content and toyed with the idea of doing some exercise. A sporadic gym-goer since my 30s, I started running and cycling from around 2007 until 2012, when the creative activities that became possible due to the confidence exercise and fitness was giving me got in the way of doing any.
Now, high blood pressure at the age of 57 tells me I am getting old and that I'm unhealthy. I feel somewhat paralysed by this realisation even when it translates as actual fear that I could have a heart attack or stroke at any time. Whenever I experience dizziness or consciousness slips sideways (as it does) I fear that the time has come. But I chose to tackle it by creating a physical performance that spoke to other fears and concerns that haunt me at this point in my now-single life.
The other ideas that informed the piece were a growing sense of loneliness and social isolation - I spend a lot of time alone outside of work; an inability to motivate myself that suggests I am not a stranger to depression - low mood has been an occasional visitor for much of my life; and a seeming inability to engage socially outside of going to see dance, theatre, classical concerts and other performance (which I often do alone, sometimes almost painfully alone). I love dance music and I want to go out and have fun but I can't and I don't and mostly feel terribly conspicuous and isolated even in a crowded bar. And yet I didn't with a friend in Berlin this summer. The combination of being away from home and being with a really good friend I adore made it a fun and comfortable experience.
So Hypertension (I'm over here, why can't you see me) speaks to my fear of ageing, my loneliness, my overwhelming feelings of not fitting in: the odd mix of conspicuousness and visibility that taints any attempt to engage in the gay scene - or the arts scene. Feeling of fraudulence and unworthiness, and a lingering fear that there is something sad and pathetic about my beard and the way I dress and my demeanour.
The performance itself was the most staged piece I have ever done. I had costume and lighting and created a kind of doomy atmospheric aura when I wasn't actually on the podium with a discreet drone soundtrack that countered the music I would be silently performing to.
I started off nervous and made simple errors but I soon warmed to it and the second and third sets - fuelled by some kind and generous feedback, mostly from fellow artists and performers at Emergency gave me a sense that I was creating something interesting and meaningful. It was a good experience and it relit the pilot light of my creativity in a pleasing way.
But then I saw the photos. I have some wonderful photos of the performance and even some video - which I find too painful to watch. Some of the images I am completely happy with: the lighting and the slightly odd fetishy, Fosse-eque costume look great. But I forgot two key things, and I'm torn whether they play perfectly to the themes of the piece or just make me feel uncomfortable. Firstly, when dancing and in that zone of performing one generally forgets (or is no longer physically able) to suck one's gut in. And secondly, as someone who has had issues with the way his chest looks in or out of clothes most of his life, being underlit and shot from below did nothing to hide an area of my body I have always hated. And I feel slightly discomforted admitting this here. It is ironic that I feel conspicuous and uncomfortable with some of the images from my performance that was speaking to those idiotic fears.
The first and starting inspiration for Hypertension - a word that sounds as if it should have multiple meanings but in effect has only one: high blood pressure. I have been getting told every time my blood pressure is taken that it is is too high - and sometimes troublingly high. The last time it was taken the nurse, looked then turned away saying: oh that's so high I can't even look.
I have made little effort to tackle my blood pressure: reluctant to become dependent on a daily regimen of statins, defeated by two cancelled appointments by my medical practice when I felt ready to tackle it and a general sense of defeat, fear and exhaustion at the prospect.
I have tried to moderate my salt intake, avoid ready meals and prepared foods with a high salt content and toyed with the idea of doing some exercise. A sporadic gym-goer since my 30s, I started running and cycling from around 2007 until 2012, when the creative activities that became possible due to the confidence exercise and fitness was giving me got in the way of doing any.
Now, high blood pressure at the age of 57 tells me I am getting old and that I'm unhealthy. I feel somewhat paralysed by this realisation even when it translates as actual fear that I could have a heart attack or stroke at any time. Whenever I experience dizziness or consciousness slips sideways (as it does) I fear that the time has come. But I chose to tackle it by creating a physical performance that spoke to other fears and concerns that haunt me at this point in my now-single life.
The other ideas that informed the piece were a growing sense of loneliness and social isolation - I spend a lot of time alone outside of work; an inability to motivate myself that suggests I am not a stranger to depression - low mood has been an occasional visitor for much of my life; and a seeming inability to engage socially outside of going to see dance, theatre, classical concerts and other performance (which I often do alone, sometimes almost painfully alone). I love dance music and I want to go out and have fun but I can't and I don't and mostly feel terribly conspicuous and isolated even in a crowded bar. And yet I didn't with a friend in Berlin this summer. The combination of being away from home and being with a really good friend I adore made it a fun and comfortable experience.
So Hypertension (I'm over here, why can't you see me) speaks to my fear of ageing, my loneliness, my overwhelming feelings of not fitting in: the odd mix of conspicuousness and visibility that taints any attempt to engage in the gay scene - or the arts scene. Feeling of fraudulence and unworthiness, and a lingering fear that there is something sad and pathetic about my beard and the way I dress and my demeanour.
The performance itself was the most staged piece I have ever done. I had costume and lighting and created a kind of doomy atmospheric aura when I wasn't actually on the podium with a discreet drone soundtrack that countered the music I would be silently performing to.
I started off nervous and made simple errors but I soon warmed to it and the second and third sets - fuelled by some kind and generous feedback, mostly from fellow artists and performers at Emergency gave me a sense that I was creating something interesting and meaningful. It was a good experience and it relit the pilot light of my creativity in a pleasing way.
But then I saw the photos. I have some wonderful photos of the performance and even some video - which I find too painful to watch. Some of the images I am completely happy with: the lighting and the slightly odd fetishy, Fosse-eque costume look great. But I forgot two key things, and I'm torn whether they play perfectly to the themes of the piece or just make me feel uncomfortable. Firstly, when dancing and in that zone of performing one generally forgets (or is no longer physically able) to suck one's gut in. And secondly, as someone who has had issues with the way his chest looks in or out of clothes most of his life, being underlit and shot from below did nothing to hide an area of my body I have always hated. And I feel slightly discomforted admitting this here. It is ironic that I feel conspicuous and uncomfortable with some of the images from my performance that was speaking to those idiotic fears.
Images ©2020 hÅb