STOP

There is a large red sign outside the Arnolfini with STOP written on it. It's there to stop the traffic but because it's outside a gallery it looks like it might be art. I STOP. I go in and ask where the Performance Re-enactment Society are. 'In the cinema' says the lady behind the desk. I STOP. I walk in and there are people sitting on sofas drinking cups of tea. I can't tell if this is a tea break or a rehearsal. The work or the bit before the work. I STOP. I join them for a cup of coffee. An americano. A chat. We blu tac posters to the wall. Old Arnolfini archive posters of shows from the seventies until the present day. Inbetween time. I STOP. We run out of blu tac. We run out of posters. The wall is full. They want to do a dry run with Tim and I as guinea pigs. We go outside and come back in again to be interviewed at a desk near the doorway. I STOP. They ask us questions. What is our name. Our address. Our memory. They use the word accessioned. A word I'm not sure I've heard before. They STOP. My memory is complicated. A memory of a photograph of a my parents in a performance of The Sound of Music before I was born. My Dad was a Nazi. My mum was a Nun. They ask questions about intellectual copyright and which box is the right box to tick. I go to sign the form. To donate my memory to the Performance Re-enactment Society. They STOP me. I should use a pen not a pencil. Makes it more official. I am handed an envelope like the ones used for internal mail in an institution like a university or a hospital. I STOP. I am passed on to the costume department. They read the keywords. Nazi. Nun. They STOP. They find me a jacket and a military hat. They cut swastikas out of brown paper and pin them to my sleeve and the peak. I STOP. I feel conscious of choosing to be a Nazi. They decide to dress a girl up as a nun. They take our photo. We STOP. I am interviewed by a Doctor in lamplight. He asks me questions about the moment where I saw the photograph of the performance. And how I felt when I saw it and what I was wearing. And how I felt to recreate it wearing what I'm wearing now. I say the photograph reminds me of a world before the world I know. I STOP. I realise that looking at the photo for the first time cooincided with deciding to be involved in performance. I STOP. I realise that when I looked at the photograph it was the time of the first Gulf War. I draw a connection between wars and worlds. The amateur dramatics and the amateur Nazi I am now. I STOP. They ask for feedback. That is the end of the rehearsal. I STOP. I have a cup of tea. I STOP. I am writing this now. I STOP. Time to reenact a performance.