For the last few years I’ve been collecting wooden clogs. They take on two meanings: popular Dutch footwear and symbol of worker resistance. 

Dating back to the 13th century, wooden clogs were originally worn by farmers and other working class people as a practical and durable form of footwear, keeping the wearer elevated from muddy pastures. Wooden clogs became more popular in the Netherlands in the 16th and 17th centuries. 

The word sabotage comes from the French word “sabot,” a type of wooden clog associated with the lower classes in the 16th to 19th centuries. During this period, the years of the Industrial Revolution, the word sabotage gained currency. Rural workers wearing sabots were mocked for being as clumsy and slow as their footwear, considered less productive than others who had switched to leather shoes. The word “sabotage” became equated with “inefficiency.” Some say that workers would throw their sabots into workplace machinery, but this theory has largely been disproved. 

I’ve purchased wooden clogs from eBay and thrift stores, taking the shoes out of their historical context and walking in them throughout Los Angeles. I've bumped against parking lots, sidewalks and the marble floor of the Glendale Galleria, thinking about slapstick, limits, architecture and the experience of being out of sync--moving through the city in footwear that appears strange and out of place. In this new work, I am lifting both meanings of the wooden shoes and placing them in the context of Pieter, a 4000 square foot dance and movement space with hardwood floors in Lincoln Heights. Through a series of workshops we will explore sabotage, bumping, clumsiness and sound, among other topics.