Play
With Me
catalogue essay for Vanessa Sowerwine's
PLAY WITH ME @ 200 The Centre for Contemporary Photography,
Melbourne, 2002
I have your child here. With me. You think it's yours. You
think it's 'you'. But it's here with me, and it isn't you.
Don't worry: it isn't me either. It's the 'it' you'll never
know. It's the vegetable lump that sprouts limbs where it
shouldn't. It's the protein blob that swallows everything
it shouldn't. It's the flesh puppet that mouths all that
floats through the air. It's the biomorph that cares nada
for your Wiggles CD, Ikea couch and Hyundai child-proof
locks.
I
know your child better than you. And I don't have any kids
- which is why I know it better than you. I hear it's wavering
indifference in its cries for your help. I see its cold
terror in the warmth it draws from your domesticity. I feel
its frigid resistance in the face of every control you bring
to bear on your 'cuteicle of culture'. And I also see the
frowns of your future: when will it masturbate? What will
it breed? Will it buy a ticket on public transport? Will
it think Jim Carey is funny? At best, you can just keep
on prodding it, reading whatever signs the soothsayer in
you projects onto its indiscriminate actions.
You
will not get your child back. And to know that is the greatest
taste of freedom you will ever have. Your 'it' is fated
to be itself, and can only be calmed by the knowledge that
it was never you. Let me know when you want it back. I'll
pass on a message.
