contiguity
noun
the fact of being next to or touching another, usually similar, thing; the state of bordering or being in direct contact with something
Contiguity…the condition of being in contact…is what can give any sign in the present a direct association with another sign in the past.
~ Amelia Jones, art historian
In this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard.
~ from The Beloved by Toni Morrison
At the 2020 USC Juneteenth Celebration, Anita-Dashiell-Sparks read a passage from Toni Morrison’s The Beloved. Dashiell-Sparks’ reading, although mitigated through technology, was visceral and tangible; she brought “livingness” to the words and this hearer left connected and transformed through her performance. It was a performance of contiguity.
Contiguity, in the present and unprecedented times we live, has been (not a little) diminished. Our bodies are both our connection and threat to one another. Technology for the most part has kept us linked, but it facilitates apartness ~ sans touch, sans contact. Probably never have we thought about our bodies’ proximity to one another more than we do now.
But our separateness is not a new phenomenon. The othering of the body has kept us separated for a very long time. Racial, sexual, gendered, and class binaries have informed our socio-cultural structures and, by definition, binaries separate. In empowering form, enactment and performance artists today are stressing contiguity in their work ~ touching, fleshing, and queering ~ the body as a technology of disruption and connection most palpable for the artist and viewer.
Our guest discussants, Anita Dashiell-Sparks and Amelia Jones, have dedicated their work and lives to disrupt divisive, binary thinking and structural discrimination. Come and engage Professors Dashiell-Sparks and Jones on how they bring social justice to their worlds of performance and art and how you can bring it to yours.