Collaborator
Pearlyn Lii

My Body is An Archive, Not A Cage

‘My Body Is An Archive, Not A Cage,’ is a performance that recounts the triumphant story of a cyber seraph—from the future—who has endured years of microaggressions. With her last breath, she comes back to the present to tell her story.

*Note:
Credit:
Special thanks to Elisabeth Johs & JOHS in Mexico City. Cast & crew: Nicolás Croes (Director), Jesus Torrivilla (Editorial Development, Story), Galia Eibenschutz (Performer), Taüs Jafar (Music), Santiago Camacho (AC), Giuseppe Ayanegui (Costume), Jon-Luke Fillippi (Build), Hsiao-Ying Yang (Structural Assist), Mariana Palacios (Hair), Andres Mañon (MUA), Sara Moreno (PM), Elena Sotos (Assistant), Federico Cortés (Guide & Translation)
My interpretation of Dear Future
‘My Body is An Archive, Not A Cage,’ is a film that casts a possible future, through the filter of magical realism, based on the state of the digital space today. Before getting her wings, the Cyber Seraph was a radical digital theorist who founded “The feminine macro-archive of male micro-aggressions”, a collection of testimonies of violence against women in digital and physical space. Students knew her from the rundown warehouses where she used to play as DJ Elektra. An electronic producer and a theorist are not all too different: each samples a tradition to build a future. More than a dusty collection of words, her archive became an excuse for women to tell her their stories in discretion. In her DJ booth, she was a redeemer of pain who turned all troubles into euphoria; in her university cubicle, she was a confessor and a gentle soul to lean on.
My interpretation of Dear Future
‘My Body is An Archive, Not A Cage,’ is a film that casts a possible future, through the filter of magical realism, based on the state of the digital space today. Before getting her wings, the Cyber Seraph was a radical digital theorist who founded “The feminine macro-archive of male micro-aggressions”, a collection of testimonies of violence against women in digital and physical space. Students knew her from the rundown warehouses where she used to play as DJ Elektra. An electronic producer and a theorist are not all too different: each samples a tradition to build a future. More than a dusty collection of words, her archive became an excuse for women to tell her their stories in discretion. In her DJ booth, she was a redeemer of pain who turned all troubles into euphoria; in her university cubicle, she was a confessor and a gentle soul to lean on.
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