Posted by Irene Loughlin on September 18th, 2014
Nayeon Yang began her performance quietly behind the cenotaph in Churchill Square, where she unpacked a suitcase containing a large ceramic pot, bottles of blueberry juice, bottles of soya sauce, black bean sauce, water and cider vinegar. She later relayed that she wanted to use materials from her home in Korea as well as something Canadian. (Nayeon Yang Photo: Irene Loughlin)
Nayeon laid down a white cloth on the bench and placed the pot in the centre of the cloth. She then proceeded to pour the contents of all the bottles into it. She chose a pot used commonly for fermentation which subsequently heightened the scent of the liquids. She then pulled on the cloth, transforming it into a long skirt. Wearing all white, she placed a woven ring on her head and balanced the half full vase there. Some of the contents spilled and began a stain down the centre of her clothing in the front and back, which would become more pronounced over the course of the performance. She asked Soufia to continue pouring the juice into the vase until it was full. (Nayeon Yang Photo: Irene Loughlin)
Slowly Nayeon stood up from her seated position and proceeded to walk around Churchill Square for approximately forty-five minutes. Nayeon mentioned that historically Korean women carried water, food etc. on their head, and she wanted to use this action in her work as a signifier of a ritualistic activity existing outside of Western culture in the performance. (Nayeon Yang Photo: Irene Loughlin)
As she walked through the square, the scent of the liquids of her container mixed with the strong smells of the hotdog stand. We passed a Thai food truck, and the surreal subtext of a group of women practicing aerobics while music blared from loudspeakers. As Nayeon walked slowly around the public square, Adam from Latitude 53 passed out a postcard for viewers to fill in and mail off, as shown below: (Postcard by Nayeon Yang Photo: Irene Loughlin)
Some curious viewers came close to the artist and were able to catch the scent emanating from the pot. Others viewed from a distance with curiosity. In a few conversations I had with viewers, one woman reported that the action looked painful and upon further reflection she stated that perhaps it was her guilt that caused her to read the image that way. Several people asked about the festival and about the nature of performance art.
Nayeon continued to investigate space, tracing a pathway down the centre of her body with the liquids as well as with her body as it moved through the public square. Her concentration and the pace of her work were exquisitely timed and it appeared that she drifted effortlessly through space. (Nayeon Yang, Churchill Square Edmonton Photo: Irene Loughlin)
Nayeon finished her work back near the public fountain, at which time Pam Patterson felt compelled to respond to Nayeon’s work. Using three bricks which would serve as a motif for her performance later in the week, she placed them at the threshold of the public fountain. She threw two bricks into the pool of water and carried one in on her head. Wearing only a bright blue piece of plastic, she submerged in the water, walking the bricks with her hands while horizontally floating across the fountain floor. An image that was both weightless and heavy, the contrast of the water’s transparency against the weight of the bricks and the complimentary colours of the materials created a striking image in the sunlight. Unfortunately the police then arrived and the performance ended. (Pam Patterson, Churchill Square Photo: Irene Loughlin)
Posted by Irene Loughlin on September 18th, 2014
Our 10 am meeting started off with quinoa and fruit by Robyn (mmm) and performance art exercises on the patio led by Soufia. I didn’t document those because that would be, well, either too invasive or too silly. We mirrored each others’ actions and made some of our own, as well as communicated through nonsensical verbal games. Following this dadaesque a.m. exercise, the conversation circulated around the question of space and its affect on movement. Unlike Soufia’s methodology which centred on taking the time to walk in Edmonton and respond to her surroundings, Pam Patterson described her process as necessitated by pre-planning because her performance involved creating with two or three participants she had not previously met. She talked about internally adjusting the plan to the circumstances of her surroundings as she became more familiar with the space in which they would work together in Latitude 53.
Naeyon reframed space as that which is not necessarily outside ourself, asserting that “our body is the space” as a unit of time, and as a biologically-defined space. It is from this place she suggests we can explore the concept of space, rather than defaulting to our understanding of space as something geographical, something outside of ourselves. Todd Janes spoke of transcending a concretized space through the use of smell and sound in performance, and the embodiment of space using our physicality as a kind of psychic extension of our surroundings, an extension often animated through the storytelling that takes place via the viewer, during and after the event. Performance art can also function as a kind of projection into space, where the performer views themselves and their performative situation from the outside by casting their awareness out into the viewing area – an ‘over there’ throwing of one’s consciousness, a technique which pre ponders the ‘fantasy of reception’. We briefly spoke about the opposite of expansion via collapsed space, and its underbelly – displacement, as immeasurable (although there was something about a eureka moment in a bathtub), which I imagine are threads that will return later in the week. Naeyon posed the question “What is the purpose of measuring?” which will be tackled tomorrow. We finished with Soufia recounting her experience of last night’s performance, where she guided our evening walk by following ‘where the space opened’ in the urban landscape via traffic lights, empty spaces, and the passage of other walkers. Gavin noted the difference to Capetown, in that Edmonton generally obeys traffic light crossings, whereas Robin contributed her knowledge of the policing of crossing in Edmonton, which we would come to know more intimately following Pam Patterson’s transgression over the threshold of appropriate public space for a body, which is apparently, not in the plaza fountain.
Posted by Irene Loughlin on September 17th, 2014
The Visualeyez table Images by Irene Loughlin
Incredible! The sun and heat. I should have left my winter coat at home! This morning after being pummelled in an early morning session of deep tissue work (and when they say that in Edmonton, they mean business) I wove down 106th St wondering what would happen today to amaze me. Visualeyez participants met for the first time around a table at Latitude 53 over mid-morning breakfast, thanks to Robyn O’Brien (Latitude Admin Coordinator) the self-described ‘creepy ghost making toast’! We were also joined by Latitude 53 creatives Karen, Emily and Olivia.
The artists spoke on some of the predicted themes of Visualeyez in relation to movement. Naeyon Yang beautifully articulated her thoughts on scent, which will play a central role in her upcoming work. There is no certain archive in which to hold scent; she therefore proposed that we consider memory as an anchor, a metaphorical container which addresses the problem of scent’s temporality. Todd Janes recounted crossing paths with a coyote last night on his way back from the airport with Naeyon, and reflected on the panicked responses to coyote sightings and the urge to enclose wildlife via environmental colonization and urban sprawl. I posed the question of intentional space in performance and how choosing space affects the artist’s movement in their work.
Adam Waldron-Blain and Soufia Bensaid location scouting
In the afternoon, we scouted for locations and Adam spoke with a reporter about the festival. Soufia Bensaid continued to familiarize herself today with the city of Edmonton. I received a cryptic text message at 8:30 pm to join her at Latitude 53 at 9 pm, where I found her sitting quietly on a bench in the front patio area. Awkwardly crossing the barely discernible line between public space and performative space, I sat down beside her and assumed her meditative pose. Todd Janes and Gavin Krastin noisily drove up and stumbled out of the van, yet Soufia’s concentration remained unbroken. They were also compelled to sit with her. I thought about Soufia’s different way of hearing, and her contributions regarding experiences of the auditory as we sat with her in silence. Earlier in the day I had noticed how some abrupt sounds made her jump while other sounds were barely discernible to her. I heard people come and go, the traffic, an ambulance.
Soufia eventually handed us flashing LED lights and led us in a walk. Waiting for us to catch up with her near the Days In, she did not hear a car pull up behind her waiting to turn into the parking lot. She held her ground peacefully and made eye contact with the driver, much like the coyote Todd encountered in his headlights an evening earlier. The driver became impatient and irritated while she stood unmoving and we stopped and started, negotiating the awkward and invisible boundary in the hierarchy of driver/pedestrian.
Edmonton or Venice..
Soufia’s walk revealed a romanticism about Edmonton I didn’t know existed – historic buildings reflected in the water, people dancing by the water fountain. I felt confused as I walked around the edge of the fountain. Later we confronted traffic at a busy intersection, singing childhood songs, and screaming as loud as we could, our voices lost in the acceleration of the vehicles.
Posted by Cindy on October 4th, 2010
So last weekend I was sitting – hiding – in Sydney’s office at Latitude 53 while a wedding took place out on the balcony. It kind of felt like the performance festival was still going on, not because of some sort of cynical attitude on my part towards the spectacle of marriage, but because there was a nice big audience for the relatively intimate event, and half the people had cameras, and because they all clapped when it was over. I mean, and because it happened at Latitude 53 (duh). It got me thinking about performance art, as I had been for 2 straight weeks without a break. I mean, I’m a believer in the idea that it’s art because the artist says it’s so. But what makes it performance?
Visualeyez is great for presenting a breadth of performance practices and for testing the limits of what is considered performance. More even than the varieties of food-related performance this year were the varieties of ways in which the works were performed by someone – or something – other than the artists themselves.
Adina Bier performed – but passively – and asked the audience to be the active performers in her work On Boulevard de Clichy.
Culinary Cultures in the Kinder/Garden enlisted bacteria and other life forms that were as much the performers as Alison Reiko Loader and Kelly Andres.
Hourglass begged to be performed even in the absence of the artist Chun Hua Catherine Dong.
In Show Me Your Edmonton, Robin Lambert and Brette Gabel invited the intimate audience to be equal collaborators in creating the art.
caribou X crossing‘s Beau Coleman, Melissa Thingelstad and Matthew Skopyk had the audience of Miles of Aisles perform the work, though it was the grocery store itself that was on display. During the group tour, the audience had the great fortune of experiencing both the story playing on their iPods and the spectacle of the throng of other participants misbehaving in the grocery store.
Just about all the work was participatory, inviting viewers to share and contribute to the work.
Food Wars in particular invited viewers to share not just in the experience but in a meal prepared by the artists Naufús Ramirez Figueroa and Manolo Lugo.
In Ask Me About Salt, the very title encourages spectators to engage with the artist Randy Lee Cutler.
Comfort Room, the one performance where the audience was clearly the spectator and the artists Jennifer Mesch and Scott Smallwood the performers on stage, was a foil for the other projects, reminding us of the value and beauty of performance made to be watched and experienced.
Not only did I get to see all the performances and get to know all the artists, but I was also privileged to be at the gallery every day watching all the behind-the-scenes action, and I saw all the hard work that went into making Visualeyez a reality.
Before I leave the blog and go back to my life in Saskatoon, I just want to extend a wholehearted thanks to Todd Janes and the whole Visualeyez team, including all the staff and volunteers at Latitude 53. There’s no way I’ll be able to remember everyone’s names, but I’ll do my best. Thanks to Robert Harpin, Alaine Mackenzie, Vicky Wong, Sydney Lancaster, Russell whose last name I never caught but who did all the heavy lifting no one else dared to, Jamie Hamaguchi, Heather Challoner and Jacqueline Ohm all the other volunteers and all the board members who attended and volunteered at the events and everyone else behind the scenes that I never got to meet but who helped make the festival so amazing! (I’m talking to you, Sally Poulsen!)
And special thanks to all the artists! I’m really grateful to have had the chance to meet you and get to know you, and I feel like I made some really close friends. Those artists who I already knew I had the chance to get to know better, and I’m coming away from the festival enriched as an artist and a writer and a person.
Posted by Cindy on September 19th, 2010
It’s been a really long day; the 10:30 am Saturday feedback session (what were they thinking?!) with Kelly Andres and Alison Reiko Loader was kind of a bust, but I had a really nice conversation with them anyway. I went to my Mom’s house and baked my bread baby, which to be perfectly honest had gone through a lot in the previous night. It had risen out of control, stuck completely to the baby sling and got “kneaded” back down in the process of scraping it out of its cloth carrier, rose again, stuck again PLUS dried out and formed a hard crust which I kneaded back into it, and never quite rose again to its former glory. You should have smelled it, though – the most powerful fermenting smell ever, that did not smell anything like bread, but like some kind of a boozy brewery. It smells like bread now, though! I didn’t want to stifle my baby’s creativity, so I decided to let he go back out into the world, where she decided she feels most comfortable on display in the gallery with the rest of Alison and Kelly’s creations. I may be brave enough to try a slice tomorrow.
Then it was time for the walking tour of caribou X crossing‘s Miles of Aisles. I had assumed that this would be a live version of the audio tour, but in fact it was simply a mass participation in the audio tour; the artists were present only to guide the participants into the store and to observe. If I had known that this is what today’s scheduled performance would be, I would not have bothered going. But then I would have missed a couple of really interesting experiences that I would not otherwise have had; that of being in the store while a couple dozen others were wandering around absurdly like me, and more importantly of experiencing the tour as one of a pair. Jennifer Mesch and I went into the tour together, she playing the tour for Anne and I the tour for Julia. Compared to going on the tour by myself yesterday, this was far more satisfying, even though, bizarrely, the two tours did not ever have Jenn and I cross paths or interact.
But more about Miles of Aisles later! In the meanwhile, if you’re planning to take in Miles of Aisles during Visualeyez (or later; I assume there’s nothing preventing you from downloading the files and taking the tour anytime in the future), my advice is to find a friend who wants to go with you; it’ll only redouble your fun, plus you’ll have someone to talk to about it afterwards!
I just got back from Alberta Arts Days at the Jubilee Auditorium, where a whole Visualeyez contingent went to check out the art action, and more specifically because Chun Hua Catherine Dong, Jennifer Mesch and Scott Smallwood were performing. The event had a look like it had been going on all day and was winding down (which I think was actually the case); there wasn’t any food on the food table that I could eat, but I was completely wiped out and starving. Thankfully there were big bags of Jubilee-branded jujubes in piles throughout the venue. I ate one, took one for later, one for Megan, and one for a souvenir. Todd got one for me too.
I had little stamina left for to take in very diverse event and spent much of my time chatting in a quiet corner with Adina Bier, Jennifer Mesch, Todd Janes and others until Jenn and Scott’s performance.
By the end of the evening, Chun Hua Catherine appeared to have successfully proposed to every white man at the event, and was looking pretty love-drunk!
Posted by Cindy on September 18th, 2010
Sitting in the reception area of Latitude 53 for a great majority of my time this week, I’ve been paying a lot of attention to the people coming in and out of the ProjEx room where Chun Hua Catherine Dong is performing her piece, Hourglass. I’ve also hovered around quite a bit while others help her paint the grains black, one by one. One thing I’ve noticed is that most people, shortly after sitting down with Dong, proclaim that they find the task of painting the rice very meditative. Some are too frustrated by the overwhelming enormity of the task to continue, while others are content to sit for long periods of time, engaging the artist in conversation about the performance, her other work, and about whatever else comes up. Of course, whenever there is an opportunity to connect with the artist and learn more about their work, especially within the context of a performance, I am a strong advocate of taking advantage of the situation!
Speaking of which, there are 2 feedback sessions on festival projects today (Saturday) – Kelly Andres and Alison Reiko Loader talking about Culinary Cultures of the Kinder/Garden at 10:30 AM at Latitude 53, and caribou x crossing talking about Miles of Aisles at 6 pm at Latitude 53. This is your opportunity to find out what inspired some of the works in the festival and have your questions answered by the artists themselves.
In the case of Dong’s work, however I am also eager to encourage you – if you have a chance to sit down with Chun Hua Catherine one-on-one over a couple of bowls of rice, please take the time to talk with her about her work!
So I was talking with the artist about the work, and about how people have engaged with it, and she was telling me that indeed, most people seem to claim that they find the process of painting the rice very meditative. I suspect that if the project did not involve grains of rice but, let’s say, tiny plastic pellets, and if Chun Hua Catherine Dong was not Asian, it would be harder to solicit participation in the performance and that those who did participate would almost universally reject the notion that it is a soothing, relaxing or meditative experience. She said that in fact, when she performed this project in Vancouver, people tended to bow to her when they got up from helping her paint grains of rice, thanking her for sharing the experience with them.
With a gleeful laugh, Chun Hua Catherine (who seems to be developing a sophisticated practice around the notion that you simply cannot judge a book by its cover) explains that this performance is the farthest possible thing from the Buddhist meditation ritual people are perceiving the work to be, a ritual which is performed without goals – the meditation is its own goal. Conversely, her project of painting rice is very goal-oriented; she has set out to complete a very labour-intensive task, and when people volunteer to participate, they are not entering into a ritual that she is leading for their mutual betterment, they are entering into unpaid labour towards an enterprise of production for a thankless and endless task. And then they thank her for the opportunity!
It occurs to me that the viewer might easily replace the stereotype of the Asian zen-master in this scenario for that of the sweatshop.
Of course this is not to negate the experience of the participants; you will recall from earlier blog posts that I also found the experience of painting rice grains compelling. Rather, I think it is important to try to recognize the quiet deployment of well-worn stereotypes during activities and interactions we engage in which are deserving of deeper reflection.
Chun Hua Catherine and I talk about some of her other work, including a project called Looking for a White Husband where she has distributed promotion proclaiming herself to be “an exotic, compliant and artistic Asian girl, looking for A WHITE HUSBAND who would like to take me to his home and live with him for a day as his mail order bride.”
This husband-seeking project, as many of her other projects, I can see, has much to do with the exercise and exertion of power. I start to think about this in the context of the work she is presenting at Visualeyez, partly relative to her interactions with the participants, but also in terms of the content of the work itself, which aims to “reconfigure the established centralized power in order to create an equal, fair and balanced world.“
My friend Suzette Chan arrived at the Visualeyez launch party, and I was introducing her to the performances and installations throughout the gallery spaces. Chun Hua Catherine Dong had not yet arrived and in fact had not performed on Thursday at all, so the performative space appeared very different from how I had been experiencing it to date – quiet, and because of the employment of precision implements (tweezers, tiny paintbrushes, tiny ink bowls) and stark white colour, quite sterile. I recounted to Suzette the story Chun Hua Catherine had told me about the bowing participants and their reading of the work as meditative. (To be fair to the participants, the artist really was only too aware of this potential reading of the work from the beginning and is quite obviously exploiting those stereotypes in this work, especially upon reading the rest of her Rice Performance Series, where reliance on Asian stereotypes is essential to the work.) I think Dong’s amusement in this case resides not in any reading or misreading of the work, which is in fact very multilayered and engages stereotypes through employing them quite literally and humorously; it lies, I think, in the reactions of participants, which have been uniform enough to carry some important revelations about the work and how it is understood. If only I could decode what revelations those might be…
So Suzette and I were looking at the performance site sans artist and I was telling her how other people were reading the work, when she told me that upon first glance at the unpeopled work, POWER is the FIRST thing she thought of. And that the bowl of painted rice, contrasted against the clean and controlled space looked, to her, very violent.
I started thinking about the work in that context, and about forced change in nature; the compulsion to control and change people, plants, culture. I first read the work quite literally as an attempt to correct the power distribution to a white/non-white parity but now I am starting to read it also as the attempt to achieve a balance of the “natural” versus the “controlled,” and to see the artist as an agent for that control, much as she is in her other performance work.
Now, I know that white rice is already a pretty heavily-controlled commodity – cultivated, cleaned and packaged. But in this project it’s being taken from something useful and nutritious and being made useless. If this work is indeed about colonialism, is it about addressing and correcting a colonial world by taking half of it back, or is it the artist who is colonizing the rice, one grain at a time?
Posted by Cindy on September 17th, 2010
I just got back from the gallery, where I went to eat the lunch I picked up at Sobey’s after taking in caribou X crossing‘s Miles of Aisles – walk 1 (Anne).
And now I’m rushing off to see Randy Lee Cutler‘s Ask Me About Salt at 4 pm on Whyte Avenue (in front of Chapters).
I already have a backlog of great things to post about so I know it’s gonna be another long night for me, and that’s not including another evening of performances tonight at Latitude 53!
Quick note: Lunch included assorted Sobey’s sushi, Voss sparkling water, fresh raspberries and carrots in purple, yellow and orange! Tried some wheatgrass agar agar from Kelly and Alison‘s performance, which just gets more and more interesting! I plan to carry around a bread dough baby as soon as they’re ready to go; I give off almost enough body heat to bake a loaf of bread, let alone just let the dough rise!
Posted by Cindy on September 17th, 2010
Adina Bier performed her piece On Boulevard de Clichy tonight during the Rooftop Patio Launch Party for Visualeyez at Latitude 53. “Rooftop Patio Launch Party” was a bit of a misnomer; it was too cold to go outside, so the launch party was not on the rooftop patio. That doesn’t mean the evening was a disappointment, however! In fact, it meant that wherever partiers chose to hang out, they were in the midst of performance art.
Kelly Andres and Alison Reiko Loader were busy making edible culture in Culinary Cultures of the Kinder/Garden – from birthing fetal tomatoes to creating a “vinegar mother” to serving mint agar desserts in petri dishes, their space was bustling with activity and bursting with life all evening. This is one project to keep coming back to, as their work will evolve and literally grow over the course of the festival. Their performance doesn’t officially start until tomorrow (Friday), but they’ll be in the gallery from 12-5 every day for the rest of the festival.
Though she wasn’t scheduled to perform either, Chun Hua Catherine Dong couldn’t keep the participants away from the installation for her performance Hourglass. Everyone wants to help paint a few grains of rice black – just enough, it seems, to really grasp the overwhelmingly impossible nature of the task. By the time she arrived once the party was already in full swing, I’d heard from at least half a dozen people who wondered if they’d get in trouble if they started without her.
It was Adina’s project that really captivated the crowd, however.
As I mentioned in an earlier post about Chun Hua Catherine Dong’s work, I really respond to artwork that challenges the audience to take a risk, to make themselves vulnerable in a gesture of solidarity with the artist. For Adina’s project, I was prepared to simply NOT be nauseated by the bananas in the gallery, but I didn’t know if I would be able to give her any more than that.
For On Boulevard de Clichy, the artist dressed in a bodysuit made of “nude”-coloured sheer nylon, standing amongst 365 fresh bananas. With one banana (still fully encased in its peel) shoved into her brightly painted mouth and one banana in each hand, Adina Bier handed gallery visitors bananas. Signs instructed participants to peel and eat the banana, depositing the spent peel in her bodysuit when finished.
Borrowing the name for her project from the street in Paris famously home to the historic Moulin Rouge and other notorious cabarets of the period, Bier puts herself on display seemingly for the gratification of the crowd. Though Clichy was once home to artists from Van Gogh to Degas to Picasso it is best known today for its strip clubs, topless cabarets and sex shops. As the artist stands silently in the gallery I wonder briefly if she is referencing the art history of the area at all, or simply the viscerally decadent sexual subculture. Then I remember that they’re hardly inseparable, and that the art scene at the height of Boulevard de Clichy’s heyday was a very hedonistic and indulgent one.
I watch some of the first people take their banana, eat it, and stuff the peel timidly into the arm of Bier’s bodysuit. Every new person to enter the gallery is offered an outstretched arm, banana in hand. Posted signs explain how the audience is to engage with the work, but it seems to me that the artist’s eyes are much more communicative than the posters. With them she pleads with each new visitor to help her; take a banana, please. Just one banana. I can’t possibly eat these all myself.
I’m reminded of the definition of performance art that requires the engagement of ‘bodies at risk.’ The artist appears so vulnerable and so much in need, and I can see that the audience recognizes this too. Almost every person I see in the gallery has taken a banana. Every new person that arrives at the party is dragged into the gallery by someone asking “Do you like bananas? You need to help.”
It has been less than an hour since she has started her performance, and I can see Bier suppressing a gag reflex constantly now. Eyes tearing, her banana-plugged mouth silently begs me to eat a banana.
I have never eaten a banana.
But finally I am worn down, at least as much by my sense of responsibility to the art and my commitment to engaging with the work as by the artist’s manipulation. I take a banana as I tell her that I have never eaten one before. I feel as though I am sharing a special moment with her, that we are both vulnerable and at risk in this moment. (I worry that she makes everyone else feel this way too; that I am indeed not special, that everyone who takes a banana from her believes that they are the only one, or that their banana MEANS something which the other bananas do not.)
Failing to understand how to open a banana and thereby destroying my first, Adina peels a new one for me and I take it, feeling ever more vulnerable in my banana-virginity against this world-weary apparent banana whore. Watching her strangle on her own banana-gag, I start to choke down my first ever banana and feel that I somehow understand what she is going through.
Managing to eat the entire thing without retching audibly, I wonder silently – If I write in the blog that I’ve never eaten a banana, will readers think it’s somehow significant that I’m a queer woman? It’s not, really. It’s not like I haven’t sucked my fair share of cocks. (My fair share being relative, I suppose, to the fact that I’m a queer woman. So maybe it’s significant. I guess.) My distaste for bananas has nothing whatsoever to do with their phallic nature and everything to do with their – well, uh, I’m not sure. I mean, it must be the texture, mostly. As a classic case of the orally-fixated, I certainly like putting things in my mouth, so it’s not that, that’s all I’m saying.
The crowd at Latitude is loosening up now. Banana jokes are flying. People are wondering if Adina’s jaw is getting sore. Partiers are showing off in front of their friends, conversation is getting louder and ruder. Yet, I don’t feel that Adina is any more at risk than at the start of the evening. While normally, I expect that performance art plus alcohol eventually leads to someone going home in tears (and I programmed performance art year-round for eight years), this crowd which has been protective of the artist from the beginning is getting, if anything, MORE protective. Sure, the banana peels are starting to be pushed deeper and deeper into her bodysuit, but now I see people taking their second and third bananas, against their own better judgment and the pleading of their stomachs. I talk to people who are hanging out shiftily in the back corner of the gallery, or unwilling to return into the gallery at all, who uniformly explain that if they look her direction again they’ll have to take another banana, and they just can’t handle any more. I talk to a woman who the artist has literally CUT OFF from the supply of bananas, fearing (after the woman’s 7th banana) for her health and safety.
So now I’m thinking about a performance I saw in Vancouver during That 70’s Ho at the Western Front. Curator Victoria Singh invited female performance artists born in the 70’s to remake or update work of feminist performance artists from the 70’s. During an evening cabaret, Maya Suess, reinterpreting Yoko Ono’s Cut Piece, invited viewers to cut the clothing off her body with scissors provided for that purpose. It could have gone any direction, but the audience in this instance opted to treat the project like a dare. Instead of being shy or respectfully modest, or protective, each visitor took his or her turn to one-up the previous cutter. You cut off several inches? I’ll cut off a couple of feet! You cut off the portion of the dress covering her breasts? I’ll cut off the portion of her skirt covering her crotch! You cut off her panties? I cut off her shoes! You cut off her gloves? I cut off her hair! That work seemed to operate as a game, and the objective of the game was to see who could upset the artist. The challenge seemed to have been put to us thusly, and from reports I heard afterwards, we succeeded. I guess she didn’t really think people would take her up on her offer. Not really.
But it made me wonder (then as now) what does an artist do to make an audience behave appropriately in the context of their performance? What I mean is that in the performance I saw at Western Front, the project seemed out of control. In a way not intended by the artist. I’m sure that audience was feeding off of just that energy, the energy of a runaway performance. The artist herself now likely recognizes the power in that volatility and claims it as her own, though at the time, it did not go well for her at all.
Adina Bier, though, has harnessed exactly the response she needs to make On Boulevard de Clichy a success. Though there are still two-thirds of the bananas remaining, it seems quite a feat to have engineered the consumption of 125 bananas over the course of a few short hours, to wordlessly convince dozens of people to stop what they’re doing and eat a banana for art. Over the course of the evening, an entire party full of people have done their best to protect this plainly vulnerable woman from the great banana menace and yet, as the fog lifts and people start to realize what they have accomplished, there the artist stands, completely covered in banana leavings: bloated and lumpy, old and saggy, the banana bukkake princess of the world.
I still want to have a good talk with the artist once she’s had a chance to digest (so to speak) what’s happened tonight. She’s already decided that she won’t be continuing the project tomorrow; it somehow seems anticlimactic after such a concerted effort by such a large crowd. Plus, she’d have to make herself get back into that bodysuit filled with grey, mushy, cold day-old banana peels. I have doubts she could stand in one spot again for a second day in a row, but I should never underestimate the commitment of a performance artist. (I once programmed Kelly Mark, who did a piece called Smoke Break. She stood outside city hall all day, chainsmoking. As soon as she butted one cigarette out she lit up the next. From the minute they opened until the minute they closed, she smoked. I don’t remember how many packages of cigarettes she went through. Eleven? The first thing we did after the performance was head to dinner, and I listened to Kelly describe how taxing and toxic and nauseating it was to smoke that many cigarettes in a row. The very first thing Kelly did AFTER dinner? She lit up a cigarette.)
Anyway, I am curious to talk with Adina more about her work, and to see what she decides should be done with the rest of the bananas.
Chatting with her briefly after the performance tonight, Adina said that she is actively manipulating people into performing an act, which, (thinking about it symbolically), might be considered morally reprehensible. Out of all the people who interacted with her, only one couple took a banana, debated eating it, and then returned the banana to her, explaining that they “couldn’t do that to her.” Of course, they immediately understood the symbolism behind the work, which is not to say that nobody else did. It just means that they considered it seriously and applied it to their moral system before choosing not to engage. It seems to me that any of the other participants may have had a similar internal dialogue before submitting to the artist’s plea to take a banana, but acquiesced on the point that, in this setting, it is better to help an artist by engaging in their performance than to refuse to engage on moral grounds that are arguably spurious because the project in fact aims to address and challenge our relationship to those moral standards themselves.« Previous Page