But where do you go to the toilet? / You must go to the toilet?

Our single concession to the conditions of never leaving the space and of starting with nothing is that we have decided to use a toilet. We don’t like making this concession - it frustrates us - but we didn’t want fascination with us going to the toilet to dominate or come before the piece.

Our compromise was to set out strict conditions for when we do this: We only go one at a time, we follow a specially marked out chalk line painted on the ground, we look at our feet as we walk and, when we are outside of the space, we don’t interact with people, or linger, or look up and take in the view. We go to the toilet, wash our hands and then return. We do not otherwise bathe or groom, and we avoid looking in the mirror.

Not leaving a confined space for a specific duration is an important part of our experiment, so these disciplined measures we take when leaving to go to the toilet are designed to make us feel as though, psychically, at least, we have not really left. When we do Deliverance again, we would like to have a port-a-loo set up in very close proximity to the performance space, so the experience of leaving isn’t so jarring.

Because we are very strict in adhering to the conditions we have set out for the piece, because we feel the conditions are an important part of making the piece something remarkable, we have found that leaving the space has become a chore, or something almost unpleasant: something that we want to be done with as quickly as possible.

[Deliverance at the Adelaide Fringe, March 2012]