Another reaction from Jeff Keene, this time regarding Bhanu Kapil’s BathHouse reading:
Bhanu Kapil says “creativity is her antidote for anxiety, possibly steaming from depression.” As she spoke very relaxed and calmly about her work Humanimal, I was entranced in her presence and fascinated with her insightful stories. Her words, voice pulled me into her creative space and began to shape new connections, meanings from her work, that I initially overlooked. In her words, rhythm was at work, playing with the innocence manifesting from her own self, appearance, and the ravaged, beautiful children she “randomly” chose to explore. I love the her ideas of letting her writing find her, so she can write close to her body, staying intact with her endocrine system. This has to be why it seemed so natural for her to explore, embody, and speak about these issues, when she randomly chose this book in the first place. Not to mention, the relationships she drew between her self, Indian women, feral children, and her father made it seem that she picked this book strategically. Relating to different bodies, the same in theory, removed from their origins, forced to adapt and survive, she says ” I slipped my arms into them to become four legs”. A humanimal.
Bhanu, an Indian woman, says ” she once felt removed from the culture of her people”, being born in Europe and not accustomed to most of her family’s way of life. Just like feral children, she connects these disconnections to explore the relationship between living within the means presented before you. A misinformed, misguided body, finding a way to cope, survive, and imagine. “All branches bear life” she said, showing that, whether nature or nurtured, all things existing fight to survive. Also, her father’s story provided me with another component to this. He was raised in poverty, very malnourished, and helpless, the exact same societal conditions that caused for these “wolf girls” to become feral for so long. However, all survived unfathomable odds to breathe. Also, the scar on her father’s leg is another innuendo to the miraculous powers a body has to heal itself and adapt. Raising the question, what is a body’s limit? I don’t think there is an answer. Although, I do think Kapil would agree with me, in the end, it’s unknown.
With that, I must say Kapil was my favorite Bathhouse event in the past two years of experiencing them. She seemed very down to earth, reserved, yet full of passion and experience. I loved how she dropped the torn pieces of paper, used as page markers, as she flipped through her book to read, front to back. It made me think about leaves falling from trees or children torn from society and released to be free. But for me, the icing on the cake was when she threw her book out into the audience after she read her final sentence. It was such a beautifully awkward, absurd moment that struck me with immense power. Almost like she was breaking free from her innocent demeanor or a musician ripping his shirt off and throwing it into the crowd for a bunch of raging fanatics. One day, if I ever write something good enough to be asked to do a public reading of this nature, I’ll definitely do that exact same thing, finish the last sentence and throw it in the crowd!