The documentary provided a raw, poignant view of the creative process of disabled performers who took the stage in 2012 to share their stories as disabled people. The yearly show explored disability and race, gender, sex and sexuality, and featured many artists of color and LQBTQ artists. The documentary itself, fully titled Sins Invalid: An Unashamed Claim to Beauty in the Face of Invisibility, was directed by one of Sins Invalid’s founders Patricia Berne, was released in 2013 and detailed the performances’ development, the performers’ thought process behind their parts, and the importance of such a show. 

Sins Invalid features a variety of acts, with some done entirely independently and solely for the performer. In one performance, a disabled man takes a bath and uses a sponge to clean himself. The performance is done entirely alone and independently, which a few of the other more intimate performances do. However, what really stood out to me was the performances that had multiple people in them. One performance features Nomy Lamm, a singer and amputee, dressed in a bird costume in a nest of human prosthetics. She layers her voice to create a song, and is soon joined by another performer who clasps hands with her. The performance is heavily symbolic, and has a huge focus on unity and community. The importance of group performance is emphasised in Keywords for Disabilities, “Performance”, where author Petra Kuppers explains that such performances, “moves out from the individual and towards communal action, and a staged performance becomes a way of presenting disability in public” (138). The final performance featured in the documentary starts with a man in a wheelchair being caught in a fight between a bipedal individual. It is halfway through the performance when this individual disappears and the man in the wheelchair is lifted into the air, using his arms to hold himself atop a wooden beam. The performance ends with the projection of a cross over his form, evoking imagery of crucifixion. This performance is a result of the combined efforts of group and individual performance, and conveys a harrowing connection of abuse and violence on the disabled community. These performances, which we see the behind the scenes of in the documentary, are performed annually, with different stories and performers taking the stage each year. 

“This space[…] is for me” says E. E. Smith. The concise declaration really doesn’t beat around the bush. These spaces, these performances, are one of the few spaces for the diabled to feel fully welcomed and accepted. The in-your-fact descriptions of sex and sexuality, of the instability of their place in an ablist world, the fear or violence and containment, they are not only necessary — to be seen and heard —  but they mirror many of the worldviews that the audience holds. 

There is something powerful in finding yourself surrounded by your community. A magical sort of emotion as you feel true belonging in the face of invisibility and oppression. When you talk to a stranger about your personal experience and realize that you are not alone; they feel what you feel and think what you think. That you no longer have to hide. Much like the audience in Smith’s writing, the audience of Sin’s Invalid would become a part of the performance itself. Not only do you see the unfiltered performances of diabled people, but you are a part of the space itself, with each audience member having their own unknown — and previously unacknowledged — stories.

Sins Invalid emphasises that the performers do not perform for the audience, and rather are performing for themselves, to create art not for it to be objectified by a view, but instead encompassed in the minds and bodies of the artists. Performing for yourself, for the sake of expressing yourself, is an extraordinary way to create art. Artists are often uncomfortably aware of their audience, and this usually impacts the creative process in some way. What will the viewers think of this? Will they accept it? Will they hate it, jeer and boo me off stage? The artist freeing themselves from the expectations put about by the audience are able to focus solely on their art. And for the case of Sins Invalid, this resulted in an enchantingly unashamed show.

It is impossible for film to capture the experience of seeing the live performance. There is so much different about being there in person, seeing the entire expanse of the stage and feeling the entire room vibrate with the voices of the performers, to see the curtains sway open and closed, that cannot be truly captured in film. The act of becoming one with the audience could even itself be a part of the performance. Actors could enter the audience, break the fourth wall, there are even performances entirely made up by the audience. John Cage’s 4’33” is a completely silent musical performance, where the sounds of the auditorium make up the music itself. The audience’s breathing and shuffling, quiet whispers and coughs. Being a part of the audience completely changes the experience, so I feel like as a viewer of the film, I have yet to fully see the true performance. Because of this I give the documentary a four out of five stars.