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consumption as a generative ACT I – Death (fold bottoms of toilet paper tubes) I am a creature made from death, from killing. Whether it is the stolen red flesh which is seared, sliced, sauteed, bones boiled in broth, liver and lung crushed into paste, or whether it is the leaf, the stem, the flower, torn from the root and diced, steamed, stewed, or it is the root itself which is unburied from the Earth to meet its grave in the air. I am the product of taking, but fruit is the only flesh which is given.
consumption as a generative ACT IV – Rot (cover seeds with more soil) Most of the seeds we plant will rot and die before they bear fruit. So, is it still worth the labour of loving? What happens when a relationship breaks apart like a seed husk, and it reveals the stench of neglect? All that once sweetness has fermented into something poisonous, and bitter, and putrid. Compassion has become resentment. The love you spoke with ease is now imprecise and messy and rotten to filth. What does it mean to be consumed by time? All we have is all we have, and we don't have a lot. Not enough time, not enough knowledge, not enough patience, not enough resources, not enough energy, not enough experience. And yet we are here, planting seeds which may grow tall, or most likely will rot in the soil long before they emerge, because we have no other choice.
consumption as a generative ACT II – Sex (half-fill toilet paper tubes with soil) I hate when asexual people are compared to plants, not only is this dehumanizing, it is also inaccurate. Plants fuck. Flowers are genitals. Pollen is airborne cum. A fruit is an ovary. Not only do plants fuck, they make it the whole ecosystem's business. Plants know that sex is a magic which requires a congregation. To spread the pollen, or to consume the ovary, is to partake in the divine orgy of propagation. To feel the flesh of the fruit squirt onto your lips, drip down your chin and fingers. To feel it’s cool centre warm with your breath. To taste the sweetness, the sour, the softness. To feel the pleasure of devouring, and know that your lover wishes to be devoured, so much so, that they entice you, invite your curious tongue, with their fragrant and seductive aroma. All of this so you may undress them with your teeth and expose the naked seed which lies within.
consumption as a generative ACT V – Rebirth (blow out candles, take a long breath) We are creatures made from rebirth. Whether it is the words we chose poorly, the loved ones we've lost, the pain we have invited, or that which we were given without invitation. We are the sweet and the rotten. We are the grace and the unforgiven. We are the complacent and the agitator. And when we nurture the soil, allow ourselves to be devoured, we too become the fruit.
consumption as a generative ACT III – Life (place seeds in toilet paper tubes) Soil is an archive of the dead. It is dark and silent. And it is the Earth's oldest womb. Somehow, life breaks the silence. Emerging between cracks in concrete, in the crevice of caves, between the blades of a stranger, or within an art gallery in Digbeth. Where there is soil, light, warmth, and water, life can begin. When we consume, we strip the armour and allow for the intimacy of birth. Consumption is both a destructive and a generative act, but consumerism wishes us only to destroy. To be passive in our consumption. Swallowing seeds like cyanide and giving nothing to the soil. Consumerism makes us selfish lovers. Makes us believe that life is disposable, and that the things we consume could ever be separate from us.