Writer, visual artist and curator Róisín Power Hackett travelled to the French Alps and lived in a tent there for three months in 2017. This time and contact with nature, and the limited modern luxuries that she had with her, gave her space to reflect on how her disability impacts her life.
Her personal essay The Tent forms part of the current Cohost exhibition, curated by Astrid Newman, at The Lab Gallery, Dublin and available online here.
Other contributors to Cohost are Karen Browett, Jamie Cross, Cian Downes, Nic Flanagan, Fiona Harrington, Anne James, Marie Lee, Barry McHugh, Clíodhna Ní Anluain, Vera Ryklova and Lucy Tevlin.
Watch The Tent by Róisín Power Hackett above, and read the text below.
Consciousness is in the first place not a matter of 'I think that' but of ‘I can.’ - Maurice Merleau-Ponty
The idea for the project came to me during the summer of 2017 when I was living in a tent in a village by Lac Annecy with my boyfriend. He had a job as a sailing instructor. Lac Annecy is a large lake in the French Alps. We stayed in the tent for three months. The typical climate cycle in the Alpine regions in the summertime is precise. The sun would burn down at 35 degrees. You could not lie-in past 8.30am. Then after about two weeks, the weather would get overcast and it would rain like ropes, as the French say, and there would be thunder and lightning. We could not leave the tent unless we wanted to get soaked in seconds. Inside the tent, we could not hear ourselves with the sound of the rain and after a couple of days we would get cabin fever. These summer storms lasted for a few days. The lake was always misty during this time because the heat it had absorbed from the sun would mingle with the cold rain. After the storms it would get hot again, immediately back up to 35 degrees. The tent had electricity, but no internet. During the hot days, I would go to a café and download pdfs of philosophy and critical theory books. I would sit in the baking hot tent so I could see the lap top screen and I would read philosophy and critical theory. Social media could not distract me. I also wanted to get a job. I had given out CVs in all the English Language Schools in Annecy the town on the lake. But to no avail. They didn't need teachers for the Summer. They said to apply again in September. I would be gone in September. The village we were staying in was called Talloires. It had a few luxury four-star hotels that needed staff desperately. There were also camp sites that needed cleaning staff. If you did not know me that well and you saw me sitting in a café, you would think I would be the perfect candidate for these types of jobs. However, I knew I was not going to get these jobs. I cannot physically do lots of jobs with the speed and perfection needed, especially in luxury hotels. Talloires was luxury. It hosted the elite society from around Europe and the US. It was brand names, fresh white towels, amusebouches, afternoon teas, cocktails, and Michelin stars. Talloires was not made for the cerebral palsied, dyspraxic mess that I am. However, despite knowing I would not get these jobs, I applied anyway. I got interviews and trial days in several places. A hotel, a camp site, and a baby-sitting job. I knew I could babysit. I had plenty of experience in the past. After my trials or interviews, after they really looked at me, they realised I could not do the job to perfection or with regards to the babysitting job, they were just plain prejudiced. I could not fold towels or put sheets on beds fast enough. I could not vacuum with the grace required. Neither could I pull pints in a bar, hold multiple pint glasses, or carry heavily laden trays. All those tasks need ordinary fine motor skills and generally ordinary body motility. I have one and a half hands, poor balance, and co-ordination difficulties. I am not the perfect candidate for these types of jobs. I wish, I was. When I need a positive from all the applying-forjobs-I-knew-I-couldn’t-do over the summer of 2017, when I need a positive from being confronted with prejudice and a non-disabled working world that just will not bend to accommodate disabled people, I think of this time as an experiment. Now I know people will not accept me to work in these kinds of jobs. If someone ever asks, why don’t you just apply for a job in a hotel or café, why are you always on Disability Allowance, why don’t you work, I can always cite the Summer of 2017 as my valid excuse. I tried. I failed. It was trying to get a job and the critical theory I read in the tent that gave me the idea for this project. I channelled the frustration into art.
