"In and Out" is a series of performances where I camouflage my body into a specific built environment then wander from that zone.  I was inspired by insects that use mimicry as a survival skill.  Not only am I enacting a “tactic of disappearance”, but also a standing out of sorts. The times when I function out of context are an equally important element of the piece.  Like a mimetic insect becomes vulnerable when away from home, I become a “red flag” vulnerable to a variety of assumptions and re-contextualizations when wandering away from my zone. 

 These pieces enact the psychology of belonging to place(s) and the way one feels the further one ventures from that (or those) place(s). This could be literally a physical space like a rural landscape or city street; or also racial or class space, family or personal space, even intellectual or spiritual space; likely they intertwine… It’s, in part, about the relationship of being different or lost; and fitting in to the world (or a world); and how identity is largely understood in terms of ones environment.

When camouflaged my intent is not simply to “disappear” into a specific surrounding, but also to make apparent my belonging to that zone; yet it’s amazing how much I go unnoticed by some when holding the right posture in the right place, and how responses vary when I am  finally discovered.  On the bus a young man didn’t notice me until he finally sat down only two rows in front of me.  Throughout his journey he faced out the window nervously and would every now and again turn nonchalantly (so he thought) to see, out of the corner of his eye, what I was up to. 

As “The Wall”, I was reduced to a pair of eyes and covertly observed a young woman cut through an adjacent parking lot toward a bus-stop located directly across from my wall.  She kept herself preoccupied for over five minutes before noticing my figure protruding from the wall.  As she noticed me the city’s tornado warning began to scream, her eyes remained fixed in my direction until the bus arrived.

As a collection of refuse I blew like a tumbleweed through the streets of Denver and would often find myself pinned up against a trashcan. On one occasion a boy who grudgingly hustled to complete the domestic responsibility forced upon him, complained about me and whoever was lazy enough to leave me there 

I intend these pieces as "active-interactive" public art (opposed to "passive- interactive" art)**; with an outcome undetermined by the artist and dependant on the audience (which is a random slice of the public i.e. those who happen to exist in the right place at the right time, but nonetheless a genuine public). These pieces are largely experimental with numerous possible outcomes. 

How much can one actually disappear? During a time when people are encouraged to scrutinize “funny looking people” would I even get on the bus, or pass alongside the Denver Mint?  Do comfort zones dissipate in concentric ripples or are there hard edges defining certain social and psychological dangers?... Like ingesting certain drugs, I impose on myself a self-conscious paranoia, and enjoy operating on a flipside reality; the audience also may share a hallucinatory event that possibly cause some to double take.  Not only do I potentially transport people from the everyday routine (even slightly and temporarily) I am able to provide myself with this advantage as well. 

Even when it becomes evident where I "belong", people are left with the “why?” as a departure point for cognitive activity. Questions and the unknown are sometimes more important than answers and facts; most of the interactions/responses will remain unknown to me, and I am left to speculate (and fortunately able to imagine) the assumptions that viewers/participants develop.  While I enjoy that level of uncertainty (I like to imagine someone fabricating an urban legend that might resonate throughout a time and place) because somehow it seems that part of the piece is still able to survive in people's minds, I am also interested in a sincere interaction with those who inquired about my piece.  From those interactions I catch a glimpse of some possible explanations for what I am: "a ninja", an "advertisement", "evolution gone haywire", a puzzle with the possibility to win a prize…and each performance I am asked a question that I have long been familiar with: “what the f*ck is wrong with you?” 

These projects are possible through a collaborative effort, and several people deserve credit for their support. My wife Tonya deserves credit for her aid in constructing the costumes, and Daniel Rudin for his role as a performer in "Heckle and Jeckle".  Documentation credits belong to Gregor Knauer, Phillip Matesic, Mark Upson, Lavonne Boersma, Mathew Hunzeker, Daniel Rudin, and Tonya Runnels-Fodness