For Samoan multi-media artist Lusi Faiva, actions speak louder than words. She talks to Joanna Wane about her new show, Aiga.
Lusi Faiva’s hands, permanently clenched into fists from living with severe cerebral palsy, are her only way of communicating with people who aren’t used to being around her. Jabbing at a screen with one knuckle, she painstakingly types out sentences that are then synthesised into audio via a text-to-speech program on her tablet.
Spend more time with her, though, and Faiva’s body language and limited speech become easier to interpret. She can talk with a flick of the eyebrows, and it doesn’t take a mind-reader to know exactly what she’s thinking when I ask if it’s frustrating to be constantly underestimated by those who can’t see past her physical disability. “I do swear in my head every day!” she says, her eyes sparkling with laughter as she presses the “play” function on her device. “I’m just proud that I’m doing this because it is my dream.”
Faiva’s internal world reaches far beyond the confines of her motorised wheelchair. A multi-media performance artist, she’s spent the past three years developing Aiga, a devised ensemble work for the disability-led arts company Touch Compass that opens at the Auckland Arts Festival next month. Combining dance, poetry and theatre, Aiga tells stories that draw from the abuse and neglect Faiva suffered as a child in an institution for people with intellectual disabilities, her fierce determination to build an independent life, and the joy of reconnecting with her Samoan identity.
A fellow performer has described the show as Faiva’s diary, opened to the world. But don’t come expecting a pity fest, says producer Jordan Walker. In Warrior Poem, Favia talks about her dark sexual desires. “This isn’t sad disability porn,” says Walker. “It’s a strong, passionate, intentional work that challenges the narrative of how people with disabilities are viewed.”