Ok first of all I'd just like to point out that I now have
14 followers and
1407 page views. Thanks for reading y'all. *love
Now that I've taken care of my shoutout maybe you'd like to hear about my weekend? Instead of working at the restaurant this weekend I performed at the MOCA gala. I love getting paid to do what I love!
So this was a really interesting gig.
Marina Abramovic was hired as artist director of the gala. She is one of the most famous performance artists in the world, and has been working consistently for probably 40 years. I think she's more well-known in the art world than in the industry, but she is also based in New York and never comes to LA. Last year she had a retrospective of her work at MOMA in NY, with younger performance artists recreating her pieces. The retrospective lasted three months, and during that period she performed a new piece called
The Artist is Present in which she sat at a table across from an empty chair, and members of the public could come sit across from her. Every day for three months she sat while person after person sat down across from her and communicated non-verbally. I read that she knew it was the right idea because the thought of it made her nauseous.
That was the basis for what I was doing at this gala. My head was basically a centerpiece for a dinner table. I sat on a little lazy Susan underneath a table with my head through a hole and stared at the dinner guests in turn. The idea was to create a charismatic space, and for the guests to actually participate in art rather than just viewing it.
This was a tough gig, because I had to sit there for the whole dinner. It was a rectangular table, so there were people pretty darn close to me. I mean, I was pretty much breathing on two people's water glasses. I knew it would be tough when I auditioned (the casting notice specified that you needed to be fit, asked you to list any martial arts or yoga training, and called for strength and focus) but I was unnerved on Thursday night when I learned that people were
denouncing this event. All I read all over the internet was that I was being exploited by a celebrity artist; I would be paid a minimal amount for rich people to humiliate, fondle and torture me.
When I took the gig I decided to do it because I like Marina Abramovic. I only learned about her work a few months ago, but I find her really compelling. She has been working consistently for forty years. She maintains (this is me paraphrasing) that within the context of performance you can push yourself much further than you ever would in your normal daily life; it's a matter of focus. I have found this to be true. Some of the most profound experiences I have had in theatre have been when I was pushing myself as hard as I knew how on a piece, mind and body.
I have to say though, reading all that negative buzz made me think twice about being involved. Would I be fucked with? Would it be a terrible thing? Could I do it? I think it's that last question that kept me in. I accepted the role because I wanted to challenge myself. I knew it would be difficult. I knew it would be uncomfortable. But the discomfort is part of the experience. I didn't want to look back and have to admit that I pussed out.
So yes, it was very uncomfortable. But I am so glad I did it. I had probably been seated underneath the table for 20 minutes when the dining room started to really fill up. As the guests wandered in I rotated slowly on my lazy Susan, stopping to stare at people by my table. They were very unnerved at first. I was sitting in half lotus, and my legs started to ache, but I made myself stay with it because I knew that once I changed position it would never end, and I had three and a half hours to go.
There was this one lady who arrived first to the table; she wouldn't sit, and she wouldn't look at me. Whenever I turned away I'd hear her babbling to passersby about how I was staring. When everyone was there they all stood up around my table for an unusually long time, reluctant to sit. Then it got really interesting. Some people would make eye contact briefly and then ignore me. Some gave themselves away by their refusal to look at me, trying so hard to seem natural. And a few really engaged with me. It was wild. Here I was, head level with their dinner plates, having moment after moment with total strangers. It was amazing to me the things that can pass between you without speech. It's scary to look in someone's eyes, especially someone you don't know, but it can really blow you away when they open up to you like that.
At one point I was staring at this guy for a several minutes. He was looking back at me, but he couldn't maintain constant eye contact. We were having this beautiful moment, and he wife reached across the table and took his hand. It seemed like she was watching this and just totally fell in love with him again. Later on he did the same with her. It was a beautiful moment that I was allowed to be part of; I feel like I added to it in some way.
As the evening wore on I got really uncomfortable. My legs fell asleep, and I had to change position. The muscles on either side of my middle spine flared up, and I couldn't sit still. Sometimes I was looking up at these people completely in pain, but still trying to connect. Then my temperature went weird. I had to put on some fingerless mittens I had with me (remember they can only see my head). Then the mittens came off and I pushed my sleeves up. Then I had chills all down my back, like a cold sweat, and the mittens went back on. Then I uncrossed my legs and brought my knees in front of me. Then I recrossed and sat up straight, bringing my head farther above the hole. And the mittens off again and my legs to my side. Could they tell how much I was moving around? But this was all part of it.
Marina said that eventually if you breathed into the discomfort and accepted it you'd reach a pleasurable place. I don't know if I'd say I reached pleasure, but I definitely found something. I was very connected to my body, but able to acknowledge that it was flipping out and go on creating (trying at least) this charismatic space with my gaze.
I don't want to make this too long (it already is) but there were some other interesting things at the event. A few tables were round, and had a naked girl with a skeleton on top of her as the centerpiece, also rotating. This was a recreation of another of Marina's pieces,
Nude with Skeleton. Listening to the guests at my table was really interesting. "Did you see the vagina?" "Is it real" "It's a corpse" "The head is real but the rest is fake." "Go find out." "Did you see vagina? It's coming around again."
Also, everyone was wearing lab coats. One lady spilled wine on herself, and when they tried to get a waiter they couldn't tell who was MOCA staff or a waiter or a performer or a guest. Imagine all these ladies in their couture wear and their jewels (my god, their jewels!) being forced to wear lab coats. And yes, I scored one. Cause it's used! And who knows when I may need one!
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| Still hot |
Also, Debbie Harry (you know, Blondie) performed. What an awesome lady. She's old, but she's still really cool. And at the end of the evening they brought out two cakes shaped like Debbie and Marina, and they cut them up with giant gleaming knives.
I am so grateful I got to be part of this event. I wish I had pushed myself further. I wish that I had held eye contact further past the point of discomfort. I wish that when Marina's assistants told me I could get up that I had waited until the guests at my table had totally left the tent. I wish that I could do this sort of work all the time.
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| Me and Marina. She said I'm always so serious.... |
