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I AM VELCRO

PHOTOGRAPHY AND TEXT/2020-2021

PHOTOGRAPHY AND TEXT/2020-2021

Picture
Picture
Exhibited at London Grads Now, Saatchi Gallery, 2020 and MFA Degree Show, Goldsmiths, University of London, 2020
AS SNAILS MOVE ACROSS MY BODY
Text/2021
As snails move across my body,                    I am Velcro
Placed on my belly,  I work to slow my breathing
As they start to move, I feel the skin on my buttock start to moisten and stick to the acrylic finish
I tilt my pelvis down slightly to get more comfortable
I feel my hips, shoulders, arms, wedge tight between the narrow tub walls

​                                    As snails move across my body, I worry about squishing one of the babies, or losing one down the drain
                                    I slowly slide my heel over the mouth of the drain
                                    I feel the snails start to break away from my     belly, 
                                    Moving down towards my pelvis, up my      legs,
                                    Into the fold behind my                                           knee,
                                    Into the fold of my arm pressed tight against my          side 
                                    I resist thinking about my exposed pubic hair, but think about it                  anyway 
                                   Tinged more ginger than the hair on my    head
                                   The tightness of the tub starts to feel like a comfortably paralyzing plastic                     hug 
                                                                    As snails move across my body, I start to focus on the s
                                                                                                                                                             e
                                                                                                                                                           n
                                                                                                                                                                s
                                                                                                                                                                     a
                                                                                                                                                                   t   
                                                                                                                                                                       i
                                                                                                                                                                           o     
                                                                                                                                                                               n
                                                                                                                                                                           s
​                                                          The tightening cool from paths of slime starting to dry
                                                          The weight of each snail, crawling over                    s k i n
                                                          The tiny  p r i c k s   that resonate across the surface as tiny              mouths      pull at tiny               hairs 
                                                          Tiny Velcro teeth pulling away from the fuzzy counterpart
                                                          A subtle pain flushes across freckled skin,
                                                          One that can be consciously endured without mental     r         e             coil
                                                          Beyond the tingling, flutters that       actually feels kinda good
                                                          Like having your anus waxed,  but t on a smaller      scale
​
​As         snails             move across my body, my mind wanders to a another micro invasion
                                                                                 A         threat imposed upon my body at a cellular level
                                                                                 T w e n t y-o n e             year old Jaz sits alone in a Genetic Counsellor's office
                                                                                 Her                   sister and brother sitting in separate rooms alone also
                                                                                 A L L                           of them waiting to hear their respective results from a blood sample taken        weeks earlier
                                                                                 She        sits pressing her right thumb into the pressure point of her left hand
                                                                                 That     point on the palm between the thumb and index finger
                                                                                 Bet ween       the soft meaty clump and life line
                                                                                 She                                  does this to quell the weight enveloping her belly and making her feel nauseous
                                                                                 The        thumb of her right hand continuously slides out of place
                                                                                 She                 sits there alone, acutely aware of the pubescent like sweat flooding her palms



​​
As snails move across my body, I think about the Genetic Counsellor’s delivery of my                                                                   
     ​   
 positive BRCA2 mutation diagnosis      
Her feet planted firmly on the floor, a practiced posture angled towards me                                                                        
 A trained mirroring of calm reflected     
Fifteen minutes lapsed and a cloud of medical jargon interchanged with                                         
but this doesn’t mean,     
 or 
but you can never know for sure,                               
and 
lot’s of women have it,    
floated between us                                                                 
It took so long for her to get to the positive result, that I almost missed it                                                                                                                     
I left confused, dissociative, fighting to submit to a quietly numbing fear,
I left without hearing what I needed to most,                              
you will be okay  
I left holding a card handed to me with a if you need anything,                                                                                                                 
and quickly busied myself with making a plan to go drinking at the Maddy             
Thursday night
      
​As snails move across my body,                 I am taken deeper into the fallout of that experience
                    A day in February, four years after the diagnosis, she took the card out of her wallet,
                        and called the Genetic Counsellor from a back office at                       w o r k
       She was  t w e n t y-f i v e,  having a panic attack and had no idea what to do
   She had one therapy session with an oncology           c o u n s e l l o r,
They talked about her hesitation to leave home and pursue her Masters, how this made her feel guilty,
     and concerns about receiving a call about another one of her mother’s relapses- which never happened, touch wood
          They talked about the ways in which she had settled into  m a n a g i n g   her life around the BRCA2 diagnosis
              How she felt pressured to plan for children, a preventative hystorectomy, and subsequent early menopause
                  How she developed a compulsive need for pap smears and scanxiety simultaneously
                       How she stopped eating R3D meat unless menstruating
                            How she stopped eating processed sugars dyed R3D
                                    She stopped eating anything processed altogether
                                           She over exercised, making old injuries worse, and treating new ones as inconvenience
                                               Misplaced intimacy, chased orgasms and toxic romance trumped body autonomy, sexuality and play

                                                  She           
                                                          was (mis) managing       
                                              with     
                         obsessively       
            seeking         
    f
   e
    e
   l
 i
  n
   g
     s       
        of     
            c o n t r o l
                         over 
                                  any   
                                          bodily 
​                                                      process

​
As snails move across my body,
I think about the 3 generations of women in my family to have experienced ovarian cancer
As snails move across my body, 
I think about how my BRCA2 positive mutation positions me at "a higher risk" for this shared future 
3 generations of snails crawl across my bloated belly, my pelvis, my ovaries
Mucin harmonies glide over jagged fissures fragmented by fear 

Between all the cracks, 
                                         tucked tightly in the tub
                                                                                  there is Velcro, 
                                                                                                             holding her all together







 © 2021 Jazmin Gareau
As snails move across my body,                    I am Velcro
Placed on my belly,  I work to slow my breathing
As they start to move, I feel the skin on my buttock start to moisten and stick to the acrylic finish
I tilt my pelvis down slightly to get more comfortable
I feel my hips, shoulders, arms, wedge tight between the narrow tub walls

​              As snails move across my body, I worry about squishing one of the babies, or losing one down the drain
              I slowly slide my heel over the mouth of the drain
              I feel the snails start to break away from my     belly, 
              Moving down towards my pelvis, up my      legs,
              Into the fold behind my                                           knee,
              Into the fold of my arm pressed tight against my          side 
              I resist thinking about my exposed pubic hair, but think about it                  anyway 
              Tinged more ginger than the hair on my    head
              The tightness of the tub starts to feel like a comfortably paralyzing plastic                     hug 
​
As snails move across my body, I start to focus on the s
                                                                                              e
                                                                                                n
                                                                                             s
                                                                                           a
                                                                                              t   
                                                                                                i
                                                                                              o     
                                                                                             n
                                                                                           s
​             The tightening cool from paths of slime starting to dry
             The weight of each snail, crawling over           s k i n
             The tiny  p r i c k s   that resonate across the surface as tiny              mouths      pull at tiny               hairs 
              Tiny Velcro teeth pulling away from the fuzzy counterpart
              A subtle pain flushes across freckled skin,
              One that can be consciously endured without mental     r         e             coil
              Beyond the tingling, flutters that       actually feels kinda good
              Like having your anus waxed,  but t on a smaller scale
​
​As         snails             move across my body, my mind wanders to a another micro invasion
              A         threat imposed upon my body at a cellular level
              T w e n t y-o n e             year old Jaz sits alone in a Genetic Counsellor's office
              Her                   sister and brother sitting in separate rooms alone also
              A L L                           of them waiting to hear their respective results from a blood sample taken        weeks earlier
              She        sits pressing her right thumb into the pressure point of her left hand
              That     point on the palm between the thumb and index finger
              Bet ween       the soft meaty clump and life line
              She                                  does this to quell the weight enveloping her belly and making her feel nauseous
              The        thumb of her right hand continuously slides out of place
              She                 sits there alone, acutely aware of the pubescent like sweat flooding her palms


​​​
As snails move across my body, I think about the Genetic Counsellor’s delivery of my                                                                   
     ​   
 positive BRCA2 mutation diagnosis      
Her feet planted firmly on the floor, a practiced posture angled towards me                                                                        
 A trained mirroring of calm reflected     
Fifteen minutes lapsed and a cloud of medical jargon interchanged with                                         
but this doesn’t mean,     
 or 
but you can never know for sure,                               
and 
lot’s of women have it,    
floated between us                                                                 
It took so long for her to get to the positive result, that I almost missed it                                                                                                                     
I left confused, dissociative, fighting to submit to a quietly numbing fear,
I left without hearing what I needed to most,                              
you will be okay  
I left holding a card handed to me with a if you need anything,                                                                                                                 
and quickly busied myself with making a plan to go drinking at the Maddy             
Thursday night
As snails move across my body,                 I am taken deeper into the fallout of that experience
                    A day in February, four years after the diagnosis, she took the card out of her wallet,
                        and called the Genetic Counsellor from a back office at                       w o r k
       She was  t w e n t y-f i v e,  having a panic attack and had no idea what to do
   She had one therapy session with an oncology           c o u n s e l l o r,
They talked about her hesitation to leave home and pursue her Masters, how this made her feel guilty,
     and concerns about receiving a call about another one of her mother’s relapses- which never happened, touch wood
          They talked about the ways in which she had settled into  m a n a g i n g   her life around the BRCA2 diagnosis
How she felt pressured to plan for children, a preventative hystorectomy, and subsequent early menopause
How she developed a compulsive need for pap smears and scanxiety simultaneously
How she stopped eating R3D meat unless menstruating
How she stopped eating processed sugars dyed R3D
She stopped eating anything processed altogether
She over exercised, making old injuries worse, and treating new ones as inconvenience
           Misplaced intimacy, chased orgasms and toxic romance trumped body autonomy, sexuality and play

                                                  She           
                                                          was (mis) managing       
                                              with     
                         obsessively       
            seeking         
    f
   e
    e
   l
 i
  n
   g
     s       
        of     
            c o n t r o l
                         over 
                                  any   
                                          bodily 
​                                                      process

​
As snails move across my body,
I think about the 3 generations of women in my family to have experienced ovarian cancer
As snails move across my body, 
I think about how my BRCA2 positive mutation positions me at "a higher risk" for this shared future 
3 generations of snails crawl across my bloated belly, my pelvis, my ovaries
Mucin harmonies glide over jagged fissures fragmented by fear 

Between all the cracks, 
                                         tucked tightly in the tub
                                                                    there is Velcro, 
                                                                    holding her all together







 © 2021 Jazmin Gareau
BATHTUB PICTURES/ PHOTOGRAPHY/ 2020
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Picture
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Installation View/ Goldsmiths, University of London/ 2020
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LEARNING TO CRAWL
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WEARABLE SCULPTURE
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CARE, AFTER CARE
EMPATHETIC BLOAT
LEARNING TO CRAWL
WEARABLE SCULPTURE
CARE, AFTER CARE
  • Projects
    • Empathetic Bloat
    • That Doesn't Go There!
  • Writing
    • Retired Gymnast, Navigating the Spaces Between Velcro
    • As Snails Move Across My Body
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