What is a body? What does it meant to embody? What does

anxiety look like? What are the conventions of representing

a feeling? A feeling that wears one down. Anxiety. How do

we objectify and typify such a deep and dark and insidious

thread that binds us all, yet we seldom speak of?

Anxiety Sandwich is a body. Anxiety Sandwich is a

performance. A performance by bodies on a host-body. The

host body is pregnant with meaning; it contains multitudes;

a layered surface.

Anxiety Sandwich is a table. A table, which at first glance

looks over-built. A table with 20 legs. A table with multiple

layers of surfaces. Multiple layers of materials. Multiplicities

which appear to be strong.

Enter our bodies. We are rough. We have appendages on

our appendages. Surfaces on our skin more course than

the blood that is coursing through our bodies. Quick and

deliberate movements begin to engage the body. The

anxiety sandwich begins to reveal itself. Showing its naked

layers, shedding it’s strong appearance, losing its legs. The

irony of its many steel legs becomes as apparent as it’s red

underlayer. Attachment and detachment abound. Pads and

abrasions appear. Then, silence.

Anxiety Sandwich is a body.