How it Feels

Abstract

The following art exhibition was displayed in Green Library last spring and in the Stanford Art Gallery last fall.

The composition of the piece mirrors the the experience of sexual assault on college campuses, which is hardly a clean-cut or well-defined phenomenon.  It's rarely ever the boogey-man that we hear about growing up who snatches you out of the night and then leaves without a trace — it's almost always someone you know or at the very least someone with some extent of social ties to your community. 

In college you have autonomy, you decide where you go and who you associate with, so you feel especially responsible for your experience.  Sexual assault can often be an unsuspecting trap which you later wonder how you got yourself into, and the implicit gaslighting within this dynamic is precisely what I wanted to explore and explain with my piece.  If you've had an experience like this one, you'll likely always remember the distinct sensation, and can immediately empathize with anyone else in that situation. But if you haven't, it's incredibly ambiguous how it comes about and what makes it so hard to prevent (the "why didn't you fight back / scream out / leave?" line of questioning) which of course only compound the gaslighting / silencing effects.

The interactive nature of the piece was intentionally curated to simulate the experience for people who might not know "how it feels" (in the least traumatizing way possible), in order to build empathy within one another. I asked students to share times they felt uncomfortable, and received hundreds of stories describing the same sensation: realizing you want to get out of a situation you had anticipated feeling more comfortable in, and not immediately knowing how to do so gracefully. A sensation that might best be understood by sitting in a beanbag. 

It’s an inviting chair which sweeps you off your feet; accommodating your body as if it was made just for you. At first, it’s comforting to be held so securely. But it sinks under your attempts to readjust- it doesn’t want you to get up. The discomfort is subtle and ambiguous until you start to feel trapped. Your body is immobilized by cultural expectations to enjoy the sensation of being held. You hadn’t anticipated the way your body would be grabbed underneath the surface, or how your heaviest parts would sink the deepest. You could flail your arms or cry for help, but you wouldn’t, because that would imply your failure to handle yourself in circumstances that “you got yourself into.” You sat down, after all. You feel surrounded in a way that only emphasizes how alone you are, and you internalize your discomfort out of shame. 

You feel foolish, realizing how much easier it was to sit down than it is to stand back up. You stay for longer than you wanted to, knowing the only trace of your struggle will be the depression you leave in your wake. 

In order to understand how it feels, please sit down. This interactive sculpture aims to build empathy amongst one another, because while discomfort can feel isolating, you are never alone. 

The text is all upside down to the outsider because you can only understand how it feels by physically sitting down (in doing so, your perspective inherently switches and the text becomes right-side up). You feel the gravity weigh over you, keeping you in place. You feel yourself struggle to remain composed / not to look awkward when you try to rise. You may have seen / (and hopefully experienced) the physical beanbag in Green Library spring of 23 or in the Stanford Art Gallery this past fall, and hopefully it will keep making the rounds.