Extract from Look at me, I said to the glass in a whisper, a breath. by Alice Hattrick for the Jordan Baseman exhibition Veil
Listen to her. She is telling you about her adolescence. She is telling you about one particular 'bender' that lasted three days. I was getting blacked out again in the morning, she says. Smoking cigarettes. Nine hours in her mum's garden, unable to stand up. It disturbed her for a long time. She felt sick every time she thought about it, not because she could remember it, but because she couldn’t. She could only recreate it. That was the only time I wished that I was dead. With survival comes loss – loss of sight, of time, of your sense of self. She didn't know what she had or hadn't done when blackoutdrunk, could never say because she lostsomuchtime. She was there but didn’t see it happen.