Performance art: 100 Years, Julia Stoschek Foundation, Düsseldorf

Dusseldorf had an exhibition on 100 years of performance art. I did not make it (again: what am I doing with my life, when I am so interested? Such is life, procrastination rules.) It has history start at Marcel Duchamps' Tonsure, where usually there is a consensus performance art started in the 60s. Again, art is not what it is. It is context and definition.

This time I reflect on the work of Andrea Fraser. During 2003, she made a performance 'Untitled'. What she did is sleep with a collector in a hotelroom - for reputedly $ 20.000 dollar. Her NYC gallery owner was the pimp. The candidate had to be straight and unmarried. (Fraser cunningly covering herself against litigation?) A video of 1 hour would be made as a record of the performance. 1 Copy for the collector and a few more (4, I believe) for sales.

The video apparently looks like amateurporn. Fraser alone in red dress, pacing, receiving the man, sharing a glass of wine, ending naked in bed doing the business.

Yes, the work is about the human condition, but this is too thin for me. It is principally about art & business: what is art, what does a collector want, the artist selling a little, intimate part of herself.

To me, this is at best a film and acting, not art. Less so than me eternal reference: Emin's unmade bed. It is business too.

Performance art - Marina Abramovic (2)

I refer to an article in Newsweek, April 2010 entitled The Naked Eye. It discusses a number of occurrences at Marina Abramovic's (MA) The Artist is Present at MoMA, NYC.

"Is a museum's white-walled context the only thing that separates artistic nudity from porn?"

We are talking about whether nudity being in a museum makes it functional, acceptable and free from dirty associations. Dirty, not sexual, because sexual is acceptable, isn't it? I cannot relate to the word porn very well. The word 'porn' is just like the word 'art', a subject for endless redefinition. If an artist or model is nude inside or outside a museum with no intention to arouse people or herself, it cannot be porn, regardless of who is bothered by the sight.

I have been fascinated by nudity in public and when it might be acceptable. One of my dreams is being exhibited nude in a museum. You can read the beginning of a story I have been writing for years (!) on Erica Chappuis' Une Vie d'Artiste, July 3 2010. I tend to think you can get away not only with nudity but even with porn in museums, certainly in those in Europe, as long as you produce a convincing reason. Masturbation, the female variety, features in my story as you will see in due course. By the way, my own intention for my dream would be to play with arousal, mine and that of the audience. The protagonist in my story's intention is not to do so, mind.

At MA's show "several visitors have been asked to leave for interfering with the work" and "a man with a 30-year membership was barred from the museum for life after he groped one of the performers" and "one [performer] told a reporter he'd felt erections against the back of his hand more times than he could count" and "one of the male models was asked to leave his post after he became visibly aroused." This is not supposed to happen. Performers and the audience alike are supposed to be in control of their reactions and physical manifestations. MA is a mistress of control. Her disciples and her audience evidently not. The original Imponderabilia (1977) had MA and Ulay naked in the doorway, until they were sent away by the authorities after a number of hours. I am sure MA, Ulay and his member behaved, but how about the audience then? There is no record I am aware of.

Are we, the high-brow art lovers, supposed to not experience lustfull feelings because we are above all that? Or only not show our feelings? As long as we admire the cunts, cocks, breasts, asses in a composed manner, all is well, although we are really supposed to consider the light the work sheds on the human condition. We should be pretty good at it now, compared to when MA first began in the 70s. These days the (near-)nude form is pressed upon on from all directions and at all times. Is our behaviour worse in spite of this? Or because? Or is the cause the erodes moral we entertain? Will we ever learn? Should we ever learn?

Perhaps the audience should only have been admitted when nude themselves and treated to a good talking to by MA herself if they offended the rules.

Performance art - Marina Abramovic

I missed the great exhibition at NYC's MoMA 'The artist is present', a career spanning overview of Marina Abramovic's work.

I did purchase the catalogue and have been quite mesmerised. (It includes a CD, with the artist commenting on her work in a fairly even, composed tone. Towards the end, she shows her emotion, though, when talking about the artistical betrayal by Ulay at the end of their collaboration, ending after their love relationship ended, and when talking about partisan parents.)

The point I wanted to make for now is this. We know that women's breasts may increase with age, but we rarely see it. Abramovic has often performed nude and we see that hers clearly have. She has generally stayed in very good shape and would hardly have put on weight. It is good to see a woman ageing gracefully.

Performance Art (1)

I am never sure what to think of performance art (PA). Yet I have been fascinated ever since I first read about Marina Abramovic's (MA) work.

I am never sure if PA is not simply self-indulgent.

Or stupid. Or - worse - irresponsible, to the point of relying on the public to save you as MA did in Rhythm 0 and Lips of Thomas. Impressive still...

Night Crossing is above doubt for me, as are Imponderabilia, Role Exchance, Freeing the Memory.

Freeing the Body is really my cup of tea. I have innocently done the same thing a few times over. See my The Voyeur, for example.

Modern art is so hard to judge. Elements such as the intention and the integrity of the artist come into play. Hardly of relevance in Vermeer's day, but paramount when judging MA or Tracy Emin or Damian Hirst.

Fascinating, isn't it?