The Perception Project is a creative collaboration raising awareness for Dyslexia. Organised, and dreamed into creation by Tui Johnson, writers were asked to submit text, up to 200 words, with a theme of communication or miscommunication. The text was then distributed to artists who were to interpret them into a form not requiring words.
The aim is to raise awareness of Dyslexia, not as a disability, but as a communication and learning preference, and also, to showcase some creative forms of communication that everyone can use in their daily lives.
I was privileged to be involved in the project, and on Saturday night, attended the exhibition opening. As well as the video, painting, sculpture and photography that was on display, we were treated to live musical and dance performances.
My photos didn’t turn out as I wished, but I have believe that some will be uploaded to the Facebook page and that the exhibition may go online. I will post the link if it does so you can see the work of the artists.
If you would like to see it yourself, pop along to the Queenstown Arts Centre, 12th – 19th of July 2015.
To give you an example of the concept, here is my story and the (amazing!) artwork inspired by the text.
After he left it took me three months to go and see him.
I sat alone and wallowed in my despair.
I let my emotions wash over and consume me.
Sadness and Guilt. Pain and Love. Anger. Betrayal. Loss.
I wanted to yell and scream.
Ask, why he left me.
Cry, and wonder why I wasn’t enough.
Kiss him, stroke his face, and ask why he didn’t care enough to stay.
In his letter he said he loved me, but knew I would be better off without him.
He wasn’t good enough for me.
I never wanted anything more of him other than to simply be.
But he was thinking only of himself.
His pain. His fear. His loss. Now, he was gone, and I was left holding the pieces.
“Hi,” I said, barely a whisper.
No answer came but the wind whistling through the trees.
Tears fell and anger surged, but I did not yell.
Instead, I bent down and placed my lips on the cold, hard rock.
With my finger I gently traced the letters of his name where it was etched in stone.
“I love you,” I whispered.
And I hoped somewhere, someplace, he would hear.
For more information please visit the following:
And if you need even more of an excuse to visit the Queenstown area, take a look at some of the photos I took while on a walk up there. It’s an absolute winter wonderland! (Click to enlarge)