Liz Crow opens her front door on a bright afternoon, turning her wheelchair to avoid her cat. In a few days, the artist-activist will begin her new project, Bedding Out, which she describes as a “sort of un-performance”. Crow is no stranger to the public element of her work: she once sat in a wheelchair wearing a Nazi uniform on the fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square, her contribution to Antony Gormley’s One and Other project (the aim was to draw a parallel between the Nazis’ oppression of disabled people and the discrimination they face now). But she admits to feeling anxious. “It’s quite a strange thing, being in a performance arena, but actually being more honest about myself than I am in real life,” she says. “The worst that could happen is that people think I’m ridiculous.”
In the grand tradition of Yoko and John, Tracey Emin and Tilda Swinton, Bedding Out has a bed at its core: Crow will be living her “bed-life” at the Salisbury Arts Centre for 48 hours, streamed online with audio, British Sign Language and live captioning, plus a Twitter feed.