Audio and BSL narration to accompany 'Embodied: a memoir comic'

'Embodied : a memoir comic' by Rae Lanzerotti
Hey this is Rae! This comic is called ‘Embodied’.

This audio narration is about 7 minutes long.

I made ‘Embodied’ to tell a personal story about vision loss, adaptation and community, and to explore ways to make zines accessible for blind and partially sighted readers.

Two paper versions of the zine are in a case on this table, one folded, one unfolded. There are handling versions available to hold if you would like, just ask a member of staff. They can also tell you more about the process of making Embodied.

In front of you is a tactile model created for this display. It runs the length of the table from left to right on a zig-zagging mount that reflects the original unfolded, concertinaed format. It is made from 3D printed ink pressed onto plastic panels.

The model includes raised, tactile images and braille which you are invited to touch. As in the original zine, there are 16 single-panel ‘pages,’ each about the size of a postcard. As I narrate, each page turn is marked with this sound:

[sound effect: page turn]

We start at the first page, on the leftmost end, to the right of where you picked up the headphones.

Let’s begin the story of Embodied.

[Page 01: Embodied:]

In hindsight, unlooked for change appears and disappears. We can feel small inner movements in any moment. The first page is a sketch of my hand holding a pen. Small lines emanate from the pen, indicating movement. Above, a rectangular banner unfolds. Large script scrawls across the banner, as one letter per page spells out this word in cursive handwriting: Embodied.

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 02: A dot]

A large hand fills the page, holding a pen. This is my hand, and I make a dot on the page where there wasn’t one before.

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 03: A line:]

Now my hand begins to turn the dot into a curved line. My smaller hand sketches the outline of a larger hand with an open palm.

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 04: Wiggle:]

Next, I wiggle the line shape into a foot, with its heel on the earth and toes pointing toward the sky. Each toe is distinct. This is the main character’s foot. In this story, the main character is me and it also could be you.

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 05: Rest]

The line we’re drawing becomes the upper body of a person lying on their back. They are in a posture of rest. The dark surface beneath them is soft and cushions their head. Notice in your imagination where you or I might be lying down. How does it feel?

[sound effect: page turn]

And... as we start to get comfortable, here comes change... inevitably, something happens in our story.  How does unwanted change feel? How does it sound? 

 [Page 06: Crumple]

In this story, a change wave hits. It’s rough. It’s jagged.

[sound effect: crumpling!]

On this page, drawn in sharp angles with tension, a hand clenches paper into a crushed ball. The wrist of the hand is obscured by scribbled, tight dark lines.

During the early months of the covid pandemic,
 I lose vision. My sight goes blurry then flashy then blobby then dark. 

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 07: Collapse]

A small human figure, drawn in a loose outline of their full body, lies prone. The floor, and the earth below the floor, made with a heavily scribbled black line, indicate downward pull, weightiness, and collapse.

After a first eye surgery, I must stay face-down for weeks. Face down all day and night. We’re all sheltering in place, and no one can visit. We’re all stopped. I stay prone lying face-down on the floor.

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 08: Dissolve]

I am uncertain and grieving: having lost vision and work and connection. Also, the collective ruptures. The people we miss. The care we miss. This requires surrender. The body becomes the ground; its form becomes less distinct as the individual person loses solidity and cocoons or dissolves into earth.

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 09: Revive]

And yet, even when we’re locked down and lose so much, movement finds us again. Movement finds me! It finds me through songs. Songs and audio messages are a lifeline after my first eye surgery. Friends record nature sounds, stories, meditations, and even a nightly podcast.

The body begins to ripple and revive. The movement goes down toward the earth and up into the sky, represented by sequential curved lines pulsing from its edges.

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 10: Heal]

As we begin to revive, our story changes direction. It is not identical. Our body heals in undulating lines.

The black line drawing of the person’s form is becoming distinct from earth. Light lines lift skyward and heavier water lines ripple downward. In the upper left of the page, there is a shining star. Above right, a small full moon. These symbols locate us within nature’s elements: earth, water, air, fire, space, and time.

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 11: Go, go, go!]

The black line drawing merges a prone figure with a figure shifting into a rounded posture. A spiral shape seems to emerge from their back, like the start of a snail shell or unwinding yarn. The inside of the figure we’ve drawn is empty yet full of potential. Go... go... go!

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 12: Sh, sh, sh]

And I am drawing myself. We find our way into the curved shape of a ball, quietly resting head to earth.

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 13: Steady]

Facing upward again, I lie on my back, hands resting on knees bent in toward my chest. The outside line and boundary of my body is stabilizing, becoming thicker and bolder. Steady.

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 14: Lift]

I start to stretch long lines of arms and legs up toward the sky. My hands and feet reach into the space above and the space beyond. Lifting.

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 15: Change]

In time, we kneel on hands and knees in an oblong shape that can transform into many possibilities. The figure is still. Pausing. Reorienting for change. We can feel lots of small, inner movements. Embodied.

[sound effect: page turn]

[Page 16: Draw]

A loosely sketched hand holds a moving pencil. On the page there’s a new lightly pencilled self-portrait, a double image of the artist standing. This comic is called Embodied.
 And this is a self-portrait. How would you record, draw or narrate yourself in a memoir comic?

[sound effect: page turn]

[End]

Thank you for listening. Once you are finished, please return the headphones to the hook where you found them for the next user.