ADAD1002

• sculptural and/ or photographic

• experiemental lighting/ using the box as strange lampshades etc

• turning the practicality of the box and turn it on it’s head makin it a completely useless item, like filling the box with cement with a glove inside it that you can put your hand into, deeming your hand useless (performative/ interactive)

In the progressive world we live in, the term ‘now’ is attached with an intensive demand where it becomes personified and asks something of a person…

‘do it now’

‘what are you doing right now?’

In the linear and progressive world we live in, the term ‘now’ is attached with an intensive demand where it becomes personified and asks something of a person…

‘do it now’

‘what are you doing right now?’

This is characteristic of the perception of time as a linear construct. This is the ideology of all events in sequential and chronological order; where history can be easily mapped out on a horizontal or vertical line.  Aboriginal Australians on the other hand, particularly prior to colonisation, perceived time as cyclical. To simplify, this is the idea that all events are on an indefinite, self-sustaining loop through generation to generation. This completely strips the need for the demand of the present; and further, explains why there is no need for a progressive society under this mindset. This concept of time is also found in many other cultural and religious backgrounds, such as Buddhism, Sikhism and Hinduism. With the demand of the present brings with it many effects on people and society as a whole, such as a strong sense of pressure and anxiety. We are told to always look forward to the future as it has the illusion of bearing riper fruits, but in reality this is just a construct to create a desire for progression, further adding to the oppression of nowness. It is difficult to be content with the present with this mindset… How often do you tell yourself that tomorrow will be better?

I cant wait until I get that job, then everything will be perfect!

I just need a holiday and I will be happy again.

Control is a function rooted deep in our neuro-habitat; an instinct that helps us to survive. Yet as much as we can desire constant control, it isn't always possible as our environment and inclination for risk-taking often overhauls this power. People deal with losing control in different ways — for many it’s just a matter of letting life take over when we can’t — yet for me, it causes instances of total panic. Losing control is my biggest fear in all aspects of life. When we lose control of things such as our body, actions, breath or mind, our brains can malfunction where it fails to know how to deal with a situation in an orderly manner. I become overwhelmed with a sensation of helplessness and vulnerability. The classic example being when you sit on a chair and fall back on it. In the moment where you realise your feet or hands can’t grapple onto anything to stabilise, there is literally nothing that can be done to control the stability of the chair. Our equilibrium becomes warped, and our brain tells our limbs to do anything and everything instinctively to prevent falling.

When I was 2 years old, I was running around with my brother and sister eating pistachios. I accidentally inhaled one and it got lodged in my airways for around one and a half hours as I was rushed to hospital to have it removed. This seemed to have a deep impact on me psychologically, as about eight years later, I started having the same recurring nightmare almost every night for a few years. The dreams themselves were wildly diverse — from familiar landscapes of greenery filled with beautiful women; to hellish fiery canyons full of scuttling insects. However they all ended the same way, where I would be extended to a dramatic height which was constantly being exaggerated; I could perceive the events taking place from both an inner and outer body. Then I would fall for what felt eternal yet instantaneous, waking up just before hitting the surface below. I often woke up in a sweat and jumped up. I only realised quite recently that the feeling of falling in the dreams were directly linked to the feeling of choking on a peanut when I was 2. It is the horror of having absolutely no control. I strongly believe that these events are also the core reason that I cannot deal with small spaces as I instinctively fear running out of air flow and the ability to move my limbs wherever I want. In many cases it is linked with instances of bad health — for example if I’m losing control over my university assessments, or social life — I experience loss of appetite, exposed to sickness more readily and feeling down for extended periods of time. Many psychological practitioners claim that “feelings of lack of control have also been viewed as a cause of many types of antisocial behaviours”[1] (Wortman and Brehm, 1975). This truly depicts that both the malfunction as well as the consequences are of uncontrolled circumstance.

One of the immediate consequences of an uncontrolled environment is shortness of breath. This holds so much beauty — a prime function that keeps us alive can be so easily disrupted and perfectly mirrors our emotive disfunction. Our sense of rhythm in life - our breathing pattern and heartbeat - are stripped of their solidity, becoming fluid and unpredictable.

In exploring my personal experience of this defect I attempt to embody the emotion created in a split second of panic. This topic brings up various questions: is this freakout instinct a good or bad mechanism? And more importantly; is it possible to control the way we lose control?. This is not about awareness or gaining control or accepting the loss of it; but purely an emotional response to and embodiment of the function of the mind.

Dylan Kelly