419 Timothy P. Day


So the space is like 10 x 22. We’re in there in suits. I’m in a Bunny mask and Ryan is in a Fox mask and we’re hiding from the closed-circuit TV camera in the wall right above our heads. We had set it up so we could black out the camera when the drums really started kicking in and take our places, then we would uncover the camera and the people watching the feed would see us looking at the work. We were sweating in our disguises. So Ryan flips the card board over the camera lens and gives me the thumbs up. We take our places and it feels like it was timed right. So we do our rounds looking at the work. These aren’t the greatest masks so we can’t really see all too well, so between that and the heat the whole thing feels really extreme. We get to the part where the fox and rabbit confront one another and start making these elaborate diagrams on the floor in chalk. We can’t see one another nor the marks we are making so we are just feeling around, feeling the violence that should be in the room with us and our gestures and our roles. Ninety minutes later, after the fox had killed rabbit and embraced the act, we hid against the wall out of the view of the camera again. We were gasping for air. The music was extremely loud and there were chalk marks all over our clothes.

Ryan Widger died on June 2, 2016. I will miss him.