I was
working in Copenhagen when I got my first nun. I'd been after a nun for ages
and had narrowly missed a couple over the years. They would walk past as I
was putting my stilts on or taking them off but in retrospect it was worth
the wait because this nun was perfect.
I hid behind a corner as she walked past. I stalked her from behind, I blessed
her and mimed sprinkling holy water over her and then I went back to my wall
and crucified myself. Some of the audience were crying with laughter.
The next day some guy came out of the audience and gave me this photo. It
was all I ever wanted in a nun--then some. I made posters for my friends with
my motto "Who Dares...Grins" This one image described who I am and
what I do.
Goodbye existential angst--Hello fun with a nun
After having lived overseas for a decade I returned to New Zealand and moved
back to my home town. It was unsettling, there was my kindy, there was my
primary school with the convent behind it. The convent had been sold and was
now in private hands.
I was in the city stocking up on make-up remover and I mentioned to the woman
that I was the nasty man on stilts. She said that she was pleased to meet
me and what I did was marvellous and clever.She said that she and her husband
had bought a convent in Lyttelton and were converting it into a conference
centre and that they would keep me in mind for entertainment.
I told her I had been inside the convent as a child. A nun had dragged me
inside by my tongue as a six year old and had taken me to the kitchen and
applied soap to a toothbrush and scrubbed my tongue and mouth out.
I gave her a picture on the condition that she frame it and hang it above
the sink.
It's there,
I've seen it.
It's beautiful.