After a long day of grooming, embellishing and then removing all traces of these activities, we have been left with an enormous pile of multi-hued plastic tresses.
Arriving at ROOM Gallery, we are appraised by Maria. She measures our height, body, face, skin tone and weight. Reciting our statistics to the audience, we then take our positions before them. We invite two men from the audience to come forward and clean us. Bearing baby wipes, they carefully hold our faces and gently wipe the thick make-up from our faces/ Gone are the fake, pencilled-on eyebrows. Gone is the chalky peach foundation and blush. Gone is the dark lipstick. My skin feels tight, the astringency of the wipes making my face feel raw.
We ask the men to help us remove the plaits from our head, but they refuse. They are uncomfortable being part of this part of the process. The two men are uncomfortable with the prospect of touching our hair. Our skin is a less intimidating prospect, but these thick, coiffed manes are too much. Instead a variety of women audience members come forward to do this work.
Throughout this unravelling, we talk about Right of Admission, the concept behind the work and what drives it forward, answering questions as best we can. Finally the pile of hair grows and grows, trailing over our feet, thin strands coating us.