Professor Azra Aksamiji, MIT
I am the girl who murdered her coworker in Lululemon Athletica after being caught shoplifting. I am Richard Simmons before his disappearance. I am on the brink of self destruction, but suspended in the final climax, at peak performance. I take athleisure seriously. I become kin with my uniform; I allow it to mold and modify my being, and in return it is sculpted by me. Together, we blur lines between flesh and fill, hybridizing soft mechanics. Workout machines gone soft. Gone plush. Gone human. I embrace my aesthetic like an old skin, a new sporty skin. Sporty as it performs, sporty as a staged performance. My high performance spandex is high spectacle. It shines as it bulges; it does not differentiate between muscle and fat and fluff. All fills are treated equal. I am a fill. In combination my fill and polyfill equates to a whole lot of diverse fill. We find new forms, we find curvy forms, we find feminine forms, and in new forms we find new movements. My original “skin” is only one of many layers–all necessary for the performance of athletics. Bones. Muscle. Fat. Skin. Fill. Spandex. Stitches. Affect. Air. All move in tandem, a perfect coordination of physics on display for your curious eyes.
I am inseparable from my clothing. Our fills have been mixed, our definitions are synonymous. A divorce would be a tragedy, but in this case, the story demands one.