Marina in white dress staring at a participant in "The Artist is Present"
Over Memorial Day weekend, I went to NYC for a print show opening (that included a piece of mine) and to climb Big Bambú at the Met, but I left with Marina Abramovic in my head.
This is work I could not easily walk away from, and when I did, it was hard to see the world as anything but one big art performance. When I exited I saw a man holding a bouquet of yellow flowers standing under the mural-sized portrait of Marina surrounded by flowers. I stopped to look at this piece, as did others, until the man, now made uneasy by our stares, hustled away. I was amused by my misperception at the time. Now I’m not wholly certain it wasn’t another performance.
Read link about another man who brought flowers.
Uncomfortable, exhilarated and emotional were the operative words for how I felt watching video of Marina repeatedly smashing into walls, sucking the air from her partner’s mouth until she –or he-- passed out, or watching the visitor/participants pass through the narrow space between a naked man and a naked women. I was left disturbed and fascinated. Observing the visitors squeezing between the naked couple was hilarious. During the time I watched, the women all held their purses in front of themselves, turned sideways facing the man and tried to pass through as uneventfully as possible, brushing breasts and balls along the way. Their expressions were always apologetic, uncomfortable, almost horrified. The men, always faced the naked woman, and being too big to fit through the space, knocked the naked man out of his stance, slamming him against the wall. It seemed violent, even if partially exaggerated by the naked man. Each time without noticeable emotional reaction, he would steady himself and return expressionless to staring into the eyes of the naked woman. To me it was an incredible piece about human interaction and emotion and I thoroughly loved observing it (even if the original piece took place in 1970s communist Yugoslavia and had additional political intentions).
Experiencing visitors stare at Marina in the piece “The Artist is Present” on the second floor was equally powerful in its stillness. One friend in our group was unimpressed by the seeming ridiculousness of people sitting for a half hour or more, to stare into the eyes of Marina (who sat in that chair for over 700 hours during this exhibit). But my friend Debra and I were mesmerized and moved by the powerfulness of the quiet communication. It is only after returning home that I have now read about all the people who participated and were interviewed by the photographer after their experience. So many of them, interestingly more men, broke down crying.
Link to the MOMA mystery man.
Marina said, “I looked into something like 1,564 pairs of eyes! It's amazing the memory of these people; they are still stuck in my head, especially anyone who sat longer than 20 minutes. So I created some kind of family with these people. People came back and back, there was a man who came 31 times a woman who came 30 times.” She feels that by staring in her eyes, the viewer eventually is looking in the mirror and experiencing all the emotions of things left unaddressed. (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/patricia-zohn/culture-zohn-off-the-chuf_b_599641.html )
I so wished I could have participated more directly (as scary as it would have been) but the lines were too long and even with the ½ hour restriction created for the participants on the last weekend of the retrospective, I wouldn’t have made it through. I still feel changed for having witnessed the work.
Uncomfortable, exhilarated and emotional were the operative words for how I felt watching video of Marina repeatedly smashing into walls, sucking the air from her partner’s mouth until she –or he-- passed out, or watching the visitor/participants pass through the narrow space between a naked man and a naked women. I was left disturbed and fascinated. Observing the visitors squeezing between the naked couple was hilarious. During the time I watched, the women all held their purses in front of themselves, turned sideways facing the man and tried to pass through as uneventfully as possible, brushing breasts and balls along the way. Their expressions were always apologetic, uncomfortable, almost horrified. The men, always faced the naked woman, and being too big to fit through the space, knocked the naked man out of his stance, slamming him against the wall. It seemed violent, even if partially exaggerated by the naked man. Each time without noticeable emotional reaction, he would steady himself and return expressionless to staring into the eyes of the naked woman. To me it was an incredible piece about human interaction and emotion and I thoroughly loved observing it (even if the original piece took place in 1970s communist Yugoslavia and had additional political intentions).
Experiencing visitors stare at Marina in the piece “The Artist is Present” on the second floor was equally powerful in its stillness. One friend in our group was unimpressed by the seeming ridiculousness of people sitting for a half hour or more, to stare into the eyes of Marina (who sat in that chair for over 700 hours during this exhibit). But my friend Debra and I were mesmerized and moved by the powerfulness of the quiet communication. It is only after returning home that I have now read about all the people who participated and were interviewed by the photographer after their experience. So many of them, interestingly more men, broke down crying.
Link to the MOMA mystery man.
Marina said, “I looked into something like 1,564 pairs of eyes! It's amazing the memory of these people; they are still stuck in my head, especially anyone who sat longer than 20 minutes. So I created some kind of family with these people. People came back and back, there was a man who came 31 times a woman who came 30 times.” She feels that by staring in her eyes, the viewer eventually is looking in the mirror and experiencing all the emotions of things left unaddressed. (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/patricia-zohn/culture-zohn-off-the-chuf_b_599641.html )
I so wished I could have participated more directly (as scary as it would have been) but the lines were too long and even with the ½ hour restriction created for the participants on the last weekend of the retrospective, I wouldn’t have made it through. I still feel changed for having witnessed the work.
0 comments:
Post a Comment