Pastpartum
A pregnant body, turned away from the audience, becomes a playful illusion of reversal, the viewer never quite certain which way it faces. Three voices speak in three tenses — simple past, past perfect, present — circling questions of memory and nostalgia while the room fills with the sound of a heartbeat recorded in the womb.
The piece treats digital memory as a body of its own, bloated and overflowing. Full phone storage, thousands of unsorted photos, and the staggering scale of global data (33 zettabytes in 2018, a projected 175 by 2025) sit alongside the much older, much smaller archive carried in DNA. Science already stores gift cards and short films in molecular sequences. Pastpartum asks what it means to keep everything, and whether a revolution — a real starting from zero — is even possible when the body itself is an archive that refuses to be wiped.
