7 Stitches
(2019)
An immersive sensory experience that conveys the feeling of intense memory through the construct of light, audible storytelling, and a singular object. Made with the purpose of the audience feeling the volatility of what I believe to be my first memory while also fully conveying this story in its truest form for the first time ever.
“7 Stitches” began as a written short story where I was recounting what I believe to be my first memory, one in which my preschool self was hit in the head with a yellow kneeling scooter, splitting my head open. This attack resulted in the namesake’s 7 stitches being put into my head to close the cut. This story then evolved to become an immersive experience that involved a self produced live lighting experience and a co-produced audio piece (Edited by: Randy Aguilar). As the performance commenced, viewers were asked to circle around a singular object, the aforementioned yellow kneeling scooter, which was only revealed upon the mention of its existence in the story through a spotlight. The combination of lighting and audio was made to produce an intense emotional reaction that allowed the viewer to project their own memories of trauma and childhood within their own mind, hopefully unlocking feelings that had been long lost.
The live performance lasted for approximately 8 minutes and 30 second, and originally took place among a group of other performances at the 2019 SIM Big Show.
Transcript (with lighting cues)
7 Stitches
(Q1- Start in blackout) Fade in and fade out a largely considered theater or movie terms, a visual representation of a scene fading to black to work as a transition into the next. I’ve always liked this term because it’s felt like a good way to describe how deteriorating memories have been able to hold strong in my mind. A memory that feels so strong at some points that it’s almost like you are watching a show in third person, but also like a play or a musical, the pieces in between the important scenes are left in the empty void of the blackout. So this is why I refer to that empty space where memories used to sit as the fade. Everybody experiences the fade, something so far back that the finer details are sucked into a void of non existence. Everything before a certain point in your life is nestled within the fade, up until you have your first significant memory. That, launches you out of the fade, turning you into continuous being. I know when I was launched from the fade, it was some time in pre-school.
FADE IN
(Q2- Fade in green slowly until “Motionless”)
Everything comes into tangibility, I see myself first standing, motionless. I’m about four years old, I am wearing black and red Sketchers(Q3- Small red lights come up) that are a bit worn and untied, black and white Adidas track pants (Q4- small white lights) that have one leg zipper broke and unzipped, a navy blue tshirt(Q5- Small deep blue lights) with the Pokemon logo printed across the chest, and a long sleeve white turtleneck underneath for warmth, and short hair that is waxed into a spiked stance in the front. I have the taste of wheat thins in my mouth and a bit of a waxy film on my lips from drinking water out of a small Dixie cup. Below me I feel the playground wood chips shift under my stance, while behind me many kids climb and jump around (Q6- the green begins to chase) a giant rock like structure, it was made for play. I must of heard sounds of kids playing and running and even giggling from where I was standing, but I remember everything in silence. Children would periodically pass through my cone of vision breaking my eye contact with the preschool building diagonal from me. It’s then that everything slows,(Q7- Green chase goes back to solid and slowly fades to black)the air feels solid, the kids freeze mid sprint, and the silence dissipates as I hear the air cut behind my head. CRACK.(Q8- RED) I’m watching from third person now, as a boy in a red shirt, blue jeans, short black hair, and no face bashes me in the back of the head. His weapon of choice,(Q9- Scooter Spotlight) a square kneeling scooter we used to play Doctors and Soldiers only a few hours earlier in the day. Reason was unclear, I don’t remember if I had done something to make this faceless boy upset or if I was the lightning rod to his rage. I also don’t remember the pain. I know it was there, it must have been, (Q10- Spot slow fade to red) but all I can feel is the pressure of the jagged plastic and hard metal pushing passed my skin and skraping my skull. I see it, the fade,(Q11- slow fade to black) as I fall, maybe I passed out in this moment, maybe I just don't remember. Who knows. I see nothing.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
(Q12- slow fade in to 50% off white) I was back, and I didn’t die, not that I understood death yet. I didn’t recognize the room I was in. I was on an elevated structure that was bed like with the softness of lying on a gym mat on a hardwood floor. Still no pain, but I felt a new kind of pressure on my head,(Q13- Pulse the light) pushing almost, both soft and firm. A crumpled up ball of towels and diapers were wedged into the newly brandished canyon on the back of my head to keep everything from spilling out. Blood.(Q14- Inner dim red) A red, silver smelling mess covers me and covers the arms up to the elbow of the woman holding my head together. I see her now, my teacher, I wanted to be saved from my anguish but she’s just as scared as I was. My screams allot no room for other voices. (Q15- Chase on outer light) Everyone scrambles and bicker and here I was in the dark changing room bleeding out in my preschool teachers arms. It felt like the room could just fill with my blood. Maybe it's an exaggeration, recollection tends to play games on me. I don’t even know if it matters. The room got darker.(Q16- Fade) Darker. Darker.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
(Q17- full white)The light returned, to an almost blinding degree, incandescent. I’m sitting on a similar bed than before but the room’s different. I’m here now with my mom.(Q18- All lights dim a bit) her hair done up in a half pump and and her clothes are all black except for a leopard print scarf(Q19- orange), all made for winter warmth. I felt a safeness and warmth from her, maybe the first I ever remember. I needed that safeness. A doctor (Q20- back to white that slowly gets more intense) in all white, old, balding, rubber gloves that feel around my scalp stands over me looking down with laser focus. He’s cold and scary, what he does is scary. He said it won’t hurt, as he took a 3 inch needle to the open cut on my head and squirted a stinging liquid into the open hole creating a numbing solution of blood(Q21- fade bump of red) and chemical that he wiped away with a rough gaus.(Q22- back to orange) My mom holds my hand, I focused my eyes on the red(Q23- fade bump of red) of her nails to steer my mind away from the red of my head. The doctor (Q24- white)truffled around looking for something, my eyes leaked from the small bits of pain I still felt. He turned around tearing from a package an elongated fish hook and plastic wire, /i didn’t know what he planned to do but I began panicking.(Q25- orange) My mom then stood putting her arm around my torso to keep me from shaking as the doctor grabbed my head(Q26- White at 50%) and began working. I don’t remember this part, I guess I don’t want to remember it, but I remember him finishing. He ties off the reformed piece of my head to hold it all together. He says slowly “you did sooooo good”. Was I good? Didn’t I struggle? If I was good why was I here in the first place? A ran my fingers to the back of my head to feel the ladder of 7 stitches now fused in my head. “What do you say?” my mom said whipping my face of tears. “Thank you…” and I remember nothing else, no images left in my head, no emotions, just the empty darkness and an after taste of fear…
FADE OUT