Chicken Inn

Gary Varro

Chicken inn is not chickening out. Performative, humorous, yet unsettling in tone, chicken inn comments on the creative process of working things out with yourself. Your work, the viewing public, consumption, fear, terror, humiliation, hesitation, coupled with the excitement of sharing and revealing—all ingredients necessary for recipes of shame and disaster.

Partly inspired by the taunt of "what are you, chicken?" overheard by a group of children in post-snowfall euphoria, chicken inn takes the ubiquitous chicken as its pet. Stupid and common—one of the most consumed meat products globally—the much maligned chicken is the subject of countless characters in stand up, film, theatre, and dance.

Tarred and feathered, our chicken has been dealt a punishment and humiliation that is larger than life, and in colors representing a rainbow. Sequestered, alone, and removed from the public eye, chicken survives in a world of familiarity, repetition, and function. All it knows are the walls of its motel room, and that it will have to leave at some point, to face reality.