The day I became a Woman (Roozi keh zan shodam)
The film The Day I Became a Woman by Marziyeh Meshkini comprises three short Stories named for characters that are the respective heroines in each: Hava, Ahoo, and Houra. In the first story, Hava wakes up on her ninth birthday to discover that she is now considered to be a woman and not a child any longer. What this means is that she is no longer allowed to play with her best friend, who is male, and that she is now required to wear a traditional chador to cover her hair. In order to preserve her freedoms a little longer, Hava persuades her grandmother that, since she was born around noon on her birthday, she should be able to enjoy one last hour of being eight years old until it is noon. Her grandmother agrees to let her play with her friend for one hour and teaches her how to use a stick as a sundial in order to tell the time. Hava enjoys this hour by going down to the coast and trading her veil for a water toy which she releases into the ocean (a metaphor for her desire to set herself free), and going to the candy store. Her friend is not allowed to come outside to play because he has to finish his homework, so they enjoy the candy through his window. Finally, the shadow of the sundial disappears and Hava’s mother arrives to usher Hava into womanhood, symbolized by the gift of the chador and the revoking of her freedom to play with male friends.
The story of Ahoo begins with a sequence of shots depicting an Iranian man on a galloping horse. He appears to be searching for something, and he is aimlessly screaming the name “Ahoo,” but it is unclear what this means until he catches sight of a bicycle race. The viewer then discovers that it is an all-female bicycle race as the camera cuts to a sequence depicting the man searching among the women while still on horseback. He appears to recognize one of the women, and calls out her name, “Ahoo!” He then proceeds to reprimand her for being on a bicycle and participating in the race. We find out that he is her husband. She appears frightened and pedals faster to escape him. He retreats. More harassment arrives in the form of a judge, her father, the male members of her tribe, and her brothers, and each of them verbally assaults her for being disobedient and rebellious. After each barrage, Ahoo summons her strength and her incentive to pedal faster. Her husband divorces her during the chase, and it looks like she may have achieved her freedom, but eventually her brothers are able to block the road and succeed in stopping her.
The third story features the final heroine in the trilogy: Houra. Houra is an old woman who arrives on the island via a plane and is assisted by a young black Iranian boy who pushes her wheelchair. She tells the boy to take her shopping so that she can buy furniture. She has ribbons of fabric tied on her fingers to remind her of each item she wishes to buy. More young boys are recruited to help push her carts of items. Eventually there is only one ribbon left on her finger, but she cannot remember what it was supposed to remind her of. To solve this problem, Houra instructs the boys to unpack all of the items on the beach so that she can see what she is missing. The site at the beach becomes a fantastical domestic space in the middle of the outdoors. The items are arranged as if in a house with invisible walls. Houra tells the boys that the things she has purchased are items that she never owned in her life but always desired. Houra can’t remember what she has forgotten, but she asks a couple of the boys if they would be willing to be her sons, but they refuse, politely telling her that they have mothers already. This seems to sadden her. The story ends when she decides to load up all of her items onto rafts to be transported to a ship that is nearby. Two women who were in the bicycle race from the previous story and Hava from the first story are watching as Houra drifts out towards the shift with all her material possessions.
What surprised me most was the simplicity of the scenes, the script, and the narratives of each story. The story of Ahoo, in particular, baffled me because the heroine barely spoke (in fact, the couple of words she uttered when her husband threatened to divorce her were under her breath and barely audible). I found it immensely powerful that her response to being reprimanded by her husband, the judge, her father, and her tribe was simply to keep pedaling, and in fact to pedal faster. Each new threat of punishment seemed to further strengthen her motivation and determination to win the bike race. The constant flux of Ahoo falling behind, being pursued, and racing ahead was metaphorical of her flickering hesitation and subsequent renewed inspiration to keep resisting her oppression.
I was also struck by the candy scene in Hava’s story, in which Hava has returned from the candy store and feeds her male friend hand-to-mouth through a barred window. They share a lollipop, which pops in and out of their mouths as they take turns sucking on the sweet. It was at this point that I became aware of a certain sexual tension that had nothing to do with the candy, but arose uncomfortably out of my meaning-saturated reading of this action. This scene made me implicitly aware of my own cultural background as I viewed it, which was frustrating. I would have rather watched the scene without my cultural baggage that predisposed me to associate the prolonged lollipop-sucking with pornography; however, I did not seem to have this choice.
In my opinion, the most beautiful scene was the scene in which Houra is floating out to sea surrounded by her newly purchased domestic items on makeshift rafts. I found the scene to be strikingly poetic, surrealistic, and inspirational in ways that the previous two stories had only just shied away from accomplishing. The juxtaposition of the frail old woman, luxurious domestic items, an endless sea and pitching waves triggered a gut reaction of agitation and worry over the seemingly doomed voyage. To counteract this, however, was Houra’s peaceful, elated smile. She seemed content and at ease, which soothed me. I cannot get that fantastic scene out of my mind.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Visit to the SFMOMA
I had the privileged opportunity to spend my spring break this year in San Francisco among like-minded people who were interested in visiting San Fran’s Museum of Modern Art. Having been in this class for half a semester, it was a dream come true! There was an entire gallery devoted to John Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns, whose pieces seemed to be in conversation with each other. I was very excited to recognize their names and the significance of their work in the same room.
Another dynamic exhibit was the Picasso exhibit, which featured Picasso works alongside works by other artists that were inspired by Picasso. The resemblance between the original Picasso piece and the work that imitated or developed a technique or motif was striking! Picasso’s influence on other modern artists cannot be overstated.
Another dynamic exhibit was the Picasso exhibit, which featured Picasso works alongside works by other artists that were inspired by Picasso. The resemblance between the original Picasso piece and the work that imitated or developed a technique or motif was striking! Picasso’s influence on other modern artists cannot be overstated.
Friday, April 27, 2007
The Heidi Chronicles
Two weekends ago I was fortunate enough to stumble onto the opportunity to see one of my favorite plays, The Heidi Chronicles, by one of my favorite playwrights, Wendy Wasserstein, performed at Arena stage in D.C. Due to an unexpected flow of money (it was a bonus from my work in the phonathon!), I was able to splurge on a ticket to see some great D.C. theater, which is something I try to always take advantage of when I can.
This performance delighted me, but also in some ways disappointed me. It was delightful to see a play I know and love come to life, but it seems some things are better left to the imagination. Heidi, for example, was supposed to be charming, witty, sincere, and likeable; however, I found her to be cartoony, fake, simplistic, and annoying. The actress did not succeed in winning me over like she should have. What did win me over were the directorial choices in the "protest" scene, which is a scene I directed last semester in Directing class. The director's choice to have Heidi be so flabbergasted and emotionally stung by Peter's sexuality that she cannot respond properly is perfect! That scene gave me so much trouble before, but now I finally understand Heidi's reactions. (This is so personal it probably does not make much sense! I should focus on ... the set.)
The set was a little garishly square, but it actually seemed to work for the play. At one point during one of Heidi's monologues she describes a piece of art as a square with a cube floating above it, which is ironic because that's exactly how I would describe the set configuration. The cube was a giant four-sided screen onto which various images were projected throughout the play. This quickly and easily located a scene in a place. It was very useful... but perhaps too simple? I did the same thing for my amateur rendition of The Vagina Monologues last year. Projections seem to be the new fad in theater-- not that this is a bad thing. On the contrary, as I have said, I find them quite useful, both as a director and as an audience member. I'm afraid it just might be becoming a bit mundane. Technology is to blame!
Anyway, I really did enjoy the show. Except for the way the director chose to play up the clichéd ending. There is a lot of controversy surrounding the final scene of the play as it is, since it suggests (if you translate it into politics without a rendering) that women who struggle with "having it all" should give up trying to maintain their careers and just have babies. The director chose to paint this scene in total whiteness, including putting Heidi in all white, giving her the appearance of an angel. The lights fade as she gently rocks her little girl. Again, too easy! After all the explosive self-exploring, the emotional rollercoasters, the gains, the setbacks, the director is going to settle for an image of mother and baby in heaven? For a feminist play (did I mention it is a feminist play?) that is a criticism just waiting to happen.
But I'm so glad I got to see it! The performance of Peter was heart wrenching and beautiful, and some of the minor characters really stood out. It was definitely worth it.
This performance delighted me, but also in some ways disappointed me. It was delightful to see a play I know and love come to life, but it seems some things are better left to the imagination. Heidi, for example, was supposed to be charming, witty, sincere, and likeable; however, I found her to be cartoony, fake, simplistic, and annoying. The actress did not succeed in winning me over like she should have. What did win me over were the directorial choices in the "protest" scene, which is a scene I directed last semester in Directing class. The director's choice to have Heidi be so flabbergasted and emotionally stung by Peter's sexuality that she cannot respond properly is perfect! That scene gave me so much trouble before, but now I finally understand Heidi's reactions. (This is so personal it probably does not make much sense! I should focus on ... the set.)
The set was a little garishly square, but it actually seemed to work for the play. At one point during one of Heidi's monologues she describes a piece of art as a square with a cube floating above it, which is ironic because that's exactly how I would describe the set configuration. The cube was a giant four-sided screen onto which various images were projected throughout the play. This quickly and easily located a scene in a place. It was very useful... but perhaps too simple? I did the same thing for my amateur rendition of The Vagina Monologues last year. Projections seem to be the new fad in theater-- not that this is a bad thing. On the contrary, as I have said, I find them quite useful, both as a director and as an audience member. I'm afraid it just might be becoming a bit mundane. Technology is to blame!
Anyway, I really did enjoy the show. Except for the way the director chose to play up the clichéd ending. There is a lot of controversy surrounding the final scene of the play as it is, since it suggests (if you translate it into politics without a rendering) that women who struggle with "having it all" should give up trying to maintain their careers and just have babies. The director chose to paint this scene in total whiteness, including putting Heidi in all white, giving her the appearance of an angel. The lights fade as she gently rocks her little girl. Again, too easy! After all the explosive self-exploring, the emotional rollercoasters, the gains, the setbacks, the director is going to settle for an image of mother and baby in heaven? For a feminist play (did I mention it is a feminist play?) that is a criticism just waiting to happen.
But I'm so glad I got to see it! The performance of Peter was heart wrenching and beautiful, and some of the minor characters really stood out. It was definitely worth it.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Proposal for Installation Project
I propose to create a video installation in the White Room for my final project. It will be called An Installed Experiment Involving Memory, Space, Art, Spectatorship, and the Spillage of Secrets. The video will be a recording of myself sitting on a wooden stool in the White Room and reading aloud from my diaries (called Bath Books). By “performing” in front of an audience on video, I intend to play with the concepts of memory, time and space (the video is a memory of my being there before the audience arrived, the space has the memory of me being there, layers of time seem to blur, then become distinct again…). The video will run long (an hour of film or more) and possibly “looped.” The video will be projected onto a screen before multiple rows of chairs. My installation will be open from April 30th until May 3rd. Advertisements around campus will attract spectators during this run, but I also intend to invite the audience of “Theater Night” on May 2nd to visit the White Room and experience the installation for approximately ten minutes.
The purpose of this project is to experiment with autobiography, performance, memory, time, space, spectatorship, voyeurism, and the (blurred) boundary between public and private. By virtue of addressing the lived experience of being female (self-identified as well as socially-identified), this project aims to explore themes of gender and sexuality in the sections of my journals that I will choose to read aloud. What I choose to share with the audience will therefore render a portrait of my gender and sexual orientation identity.
This work will self-consciously refuse to deny being personal, intimate, and (possibly) apolitical; I intend to admit to my own self-indulgence by making the absence of critical voices and political connotations in the installation conspicuous. By calling attention to the fact that my installation is expositional and explicit, I hope to instigate questionable reactions from my audience. I would love for my spectators to re-consider the epistemology of autobiography, performance, and voyeurism.
The reason I have chosen to install this project in the White Room is because the White Room is an accessible theatrical space that is ideal for exploring the relationship between spectator and installation art. The room can be set up like a movie-theater configuration, with a projected image and rows of seats for spectators, dark walls, surround-sound… It is precisely the fact that the White Room is a theatrical space that encourages me to use it for this installation, because it calls into question what is appropriate for performance, for the stage, for the “high art” of theater-- and also what is appropriate protocol on the part of the spectators: should they be listening to me reading from my diaries at all? Are they innocent spectators, or hungry voyeurs? And lastly, what am I—a radical exhibitionist, an artist, or a person caught unawares on tape reading her secrets? WHO is innocent and WHO is responsible?
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Installation Project Research
I am interested in exploring the themes of autobiography, performance, memory, time, space, spectatorship, voyeurism, and the (blurred) boundary between public and private in my next project. These themes are often addressed in feminist performance and installation art, so that is what I will be researching.
I researched a few different artists who have done work that touches on some of these subjects. In Imaging Desire by feminist artist Mary Kelly I came across a transcribed conversation between Laura Mulvey (the prominent feminist theorist who coined the term “the male gaze”) and Mary Kelly. In this conversation Mary Kelly discusses her installation work entitled Post-Partum Document (three images of this installation are posted above), which “was conceived as an ongoing process of analysis and visualization of the mother-child relationship” (Kelly). This work is relevant to my research because it is autobiographical in the sense that the installation addresses the artist’s experience as a mother. In Kelly’s words, “It is an effort to articulate the mother’s fantasies, her desire, her stake in the project called ‘motherhood’” (Kelly). However, Mary Kelly deliberately sheds this label and denies that the work is autobiographical. She states explicitly: “Although the mother’s story is my story, Post-Partum Document is not an autobiography… It suggests an interplay of voices—the mother’s experience, feminist analysis, academic discussion, political debate” (Kelly). This is where my idea for an installation project differs from this artist’s work. I want my work to be an intentional autobiographical document that does not address outside voices that are disconnected with my own. The voices that will be present in my work are located in my self, in past selves, and in powerful influences that speak through me. My work will self-consciously refuse to deny being personal, intimate, and (possibly) apolitical; I intend to admit to my own self-indulgence by acknowledging the absence of critical voices and political connotations in the installation.
The second artist I researched is Rachel Rosenthal, a feminist performance artist. My source is Out From Under, texts by women performance artists, edited by Lenora Champagne. I am very interested in the way she “combines autobiography and social criticism in visually stylish performances that often use slides, props and music” (Champagne 74). This cocktail of spectacle and intellectually stimulating material is exactly what I find most invigorating about most feminist performance art I have come into contact with. Unlike Mary Kelly, Rosenthal admits to using strong threads of autobiography in her work (for example, the subject matter for her piece My Brazil, 1979, came from her experience of fleeing Europe for Brazil during the Nazi’s rise to power when she was thirteen (Champagne 73). Unfortunately, I was unable to find any images of this performance piece. But, going off on a brief tangent here, I was delighted to learn that after having lived in New York for periods of time during her twenties, Rosenthal was friends with Robert Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns! As I said before, it is my intention to treat my installation project as a self-conscious autobiographical piece. However, I do not plan to adopt Rosenthal’s stylistic combination of autobiography and social criticism. In this piece I simply intend to call attention to the fact that my installation is expositional and explicit, which will hopefully instigate questionable reactions from my audience. I would love for my spectators to re-consider the epistemology of autobiography, performance, memory, time, space, spectatorship, voyeurism, and the (blurred) boundary between public and private, but I do not intend to include any critical insights that might lead them directly to this contemplation. However, I do look forward to experimenting with social criticism in my performance art for a future project!
Therefore, I propose a few different possibilities for my installation project:
I want my installation project to be intimately personal, so I’m planning on using my own diary as source material (I do not call it a diary, though; my “diary” is a series of books called the “Bath Books”… this I may explain in the piece). One possibility is re-creating pages of my Bath Books out of sheets or canvas; this would be an exercise in re-writing myself, contextualizing/re-contextualizing/de-contextualizing myself, perhaps using images, creating separate spaces to enter, different kinds of safety…
I am also interested in creating a video installation. Preparation would include recording myself reading out of my Bath Books in the space which I intend to install my piece. The actual installation would be a projected image of the video in the space where the video was shot. By “performing” in front of an audience on video, I intend to play with the concepts of memory, time and space (the video is a memory of my being there before the audience arrived, the space has the memory of me being there, layers of time seem to blur, then become distinct again…).
There is also the possibility of being even more overt in demonstrating the relationships between installation, performance, and feminism… For example, I could “lead” my audience into the room, pretending to be “setting up” to read from my diary (in person!), but actually slip behind the scenes, call the audience inside, and have my projected image confront them as the “live performer”… Also, I could read only pre-selected sections of my Bath Books that especially pertain to gender or sexuality issues and experiences, thus invoking a distinctly feminist overtone in the work.
Regardless of which of these slightly different ideas I choose to develop, I have decided that my piece will be installed in the White Room. The White Room is a theatrical space that is available to me, accessible to all, and remarkably well-suited for this particular project. The White Room can serve as a gallery (should I choose to develop possibility number one), or a theater (should I choose to develop the second or third idea). Since the White Room is simply a black box room, it can be converted into either of these spaces. Also, a theatrical space is also ideal for exploring the relationship between spectator and installation art, which is a theme I am hoping to explore in this project.
Some other small details: I think this installation shall be called An Installed Experiment Involving Memory, Space, Art, Spectatorship, and the Spillage of Secrets. Also, I am thinking of advertising this installation by inviting people to a "live reading" of my diary. This is provocative, exhibitionist, sure to garner attention, and also raises important questions about performance, voyeurism, and what makes something "live" (is a re-run of a Saturday Night Live show still "live?").
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Live Art / Performance Art Skillshare
Live Art!
Live art, or performance art, is an art form that grew out of the Dadaism and Avant-gardism of the early 20th century as well as the “happenings” from the 1960’s. Performance art can be defined as such:
“Performance art is art in which the actions of an individual or a group at a particular place and in a particular time constitute the work. It can happen anywhere, at any time, or for any length of time. Performance art can be any situation that involves four basic elements: time, space, the performer's body and a relationship between performer and audience” (Wikipedia).
RoseLee Goldberg states in Performance Art: From Futurism to the Present:
“Performance has been a way of appealing directly to a large public, as well as shocking audiences into reassessing their own notions of art and its relation to culture” (Goldberg).
In other words, performance art is often connected to radicalism, since the object is usually to shock the audience as a way to gain attention for an art piece and the motivations behind it. This intention to “shock” can be summarized in the term “agit-prop”, which is an abbreviation for “agitation propaganda.” Agit-prop can be described as any form of visual or aural aid that appeals strongly to a spectator as to agitate him or her to believe something to be true or to take action. In this sense, “agitate” does not have negative connotations-- it means simply to persuade. Television advertisements are a kind of commercial agit-prop, because they utilize auditory and visual cues to agitate the spectator into buying a good. Performance art is often agit-prop because it often has a personal or political agenda (or both simultaneously) that aims to shock the audience into believing something or doing something.
Karen Finley is an example of a feminist performance artist. She is well-known for disrobing before her audience and smearing chocolate on her body. In her book “A Different Kind of Intimacy,” Finley explains that the chocolate-smearing was to commemorate Tawana Brawley, a young black woman who alleged that some police officers raped her and smeared her with feces (the police officers were found innocent). Her performances often deal with sex, sexuality, rape, and objectification.
Another example of feminist performance art is the Guerilla Girls, a “bunch of anonymous females who take the names of dead women artists as pseudonyms and appear in public wearing gorilla masks. [They] have produced posters, stickers, books, printed projects, and actions that expose sexism and racism in politics, the art world, film and the culture at large. [They] use humor to convey information, provoke discussion, and show that feminists can be funny. [They] wear gorilla masks to focus on the issues rather than our personalities” (from the official Guerilla Girls website). They also do performances at schools, museums, and organized events, in which they wear their gorilla masks and perform skits dealing with the issues they protest.
[Clare then expanded on the origins of live art in Dadaism and sound poetry]
To Do Live Art:
Here is a summary of what we did today to do live art.:
1. Clare and I led the class through two fun improvisational games: the Sound Circle, and "Yes, But...". This helped us loosen our vocal chords and allowed us to experiment with sound. Our final exercise was to warm up our bodies.
A) Sound Circle
Participants stand in a circle, and the first player makes a motion with their body accompanied by a sound. The sound/motion combination travels to everyone else around the circle until it gets back to the player who started it. The next player makes a different sound/motion combination, which again travels around the circle of players, and so forth.
B) "Yes, But..."
The first player comes up with a completely outrageous situation and tells it to the person on his or her left. The person on the left says "Yes, but" and then offers a response to the first person. Then the person on the left makes up a new situation which he or she relates to the person to his or her left, and the game continues around the circle of players.
C) Directional Movement
Players are told to move in ways that have to do with timing, weight, or space; or in directions or orientations. Examples: horizontal/vertical, downward/upward, light/heavy. Players cannot stand still and must move around the room.
2. We then split up the class into two groups of five people and worked on using our bodies as vehicles for agit-prop. We did this by experimenting with prototypical statements one might make using performance art as a medium (with the option to come up with an original statement), and using only our bodies to communicate these messages.
5. Then we introduced character development and incorporated specific character traits into our performances.
6. Finally, we performed!
Please feel free to repeat these steps if you are interested in warming up for or experimenting with performance art. :)
Live art, or performance art, is an art form that grew out of the Dadaism and Avant-gardism of the early 20th century as well as the “happenings” from the 1960’s. Performance art can be defined as such:
“Performance art is art in which the actions of an individual or a group at a particular place and in a particular time constitute the work. It can happen anywhere, at any time, or for any length of time. Performance art can be any situation that involves four basic elements: time, space, the performer's body and a relationship between performer and audience” (Wikipedia).
RoseLee Goldberg states in Performance Art: From Futurism to the Present:
“Performance has been a way of appealing directly to a large public, as well as shocking audiences into reassessing their own notions of art and its relation to culture” (Goldberg).
In other words, performance art is often connected to radicalism, since the object is usually to shock the audience as a way to gain attention for an art piece and the motivations behind it. This intention to “shock” can be summarized in the term “agit-prop”, which is an abbreviation for “agitation propaganda.” Agit-prop can be described as any form of visual or aural aid that appeals strongly to a spectator as to agitate him or her to believe something to be true or to take action. In this sense, “agitate” does not have negative connotations-- it means simply to persuade. Television advertisements are a kind of commercial agit-prop, because they utilize auditory and visual cues to agitate the spectator into buying a good. Performance art is often agit-prop because it often has a personal or political agenda (or both simultaneously) that aims to shock the audience into believing something or doing something.
Karen Finley is an example of a feminist performance artist. She is well-known for disrobing before her audience and smearing chocolate on her body. In her book “A Different Kind of Intimacy,” Finley explains that the chocolate-smearing was to commemorate Tawana Brawley, a young black woman who alleged that some police officers raped her and smeared her with feces (the police officers were found innocent). Her performances often deal with sex, sexuality, rape, and objectification.
Another example of feminist performance art is the Guerilla Girls, a “bunch of anonymous females who take the names of dead women artists as pseudonyms and appear in public wearing gorilla masks. [They] have produced posters, stickers, books, printed projects, and actions that expose sexism and racism in politics, the art world, film and the culture at large. [They] use humor to convey information, provoke discussion, and show that feminists can be funny. [They] wear gorilla masks to focus on the issues rather than our personalities” (from the official Guerilla Girls website). They also do performances at schools, museums, and organized events, in which they wear their gorilla masks and perform skits dealing with the issues they protest.
[Clare then expanded on the origins of live art in Dadaism and sound poetry]
To Do Live Art:
Here is a summary of what we did today to do live art.:
1. Clare and I led the class through two fun improvisational games: the Sound Circle, and "Yes, But...". This helped us loosen our vocal chords and allowed us to experiment with sound. Our final exercise was to warm up our bodies.
A) Sound Circle
Participants stand in a circle, and the first player makes a motion with their body accompanied by a sound. The sound/motion combination travels to everyone else around the circle until it gets back to the player who started it. The next player makes a different sound/motion combination, which again travels around the circle of players, and so forth.
B) "Yes, But..."
The first player comes up with a completely outrageous situation and tells it to the person on his or her left. The person on the left says "Yes, but" and then offers a response to the first person. Then the person on the left makes up a new situation which he or she relates to the person to his or her left, and the game continues around the circle of players.
C) Directional Movement
Players are told to move in ways that have to do with timing, weight, or space; or in directions or orientations. Examples: horizontal/vertical, downward/upward, light/heavy. Players cannot stand still and must move around the room.
2. We then split up the class into two groups of five people and worked on using our bodies as vehicles for agit-prop. We did this by experimenting with prototypical statements one might make using performance art as a medium (with the option to come up with an original statement), and using only our bodies to communicate these messages.
5. Then we introduced character development and incorporated specific character traits into our performances.
6. Finally, we performed!
Please feel free to repeat these steps if you are interested in warming up for or experimenting with performance art. :)
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Artist Lecture: Christopher Coleman
I recently attended the artist lecture by Christopher Coleman, who is an animation teacher at the University of Oregon. He presented on four projects, three of which I will discuss here.
The first project was a video installation titled “Collusion,” which depicted smokestacks expelling and consuming pollution to the soundtrack of realistic human respiration. It was installed as a full wall projection in a gallery with “surround sound” so that the visual image of the “inhaling, exhaling” smokestacks and the sound of breathing immerses and overwhelms the spectator. According to Coleman, the intention of this project was to play with “notions of hope”-- and, in effect, dispersing hope by portraying a never-ending deluge of pollution into the air followed by the re-consumption of it. He mentions that one can’t breathe exactly with the piece because the smokestacks “breathe in” more than they “breathe out,” and human respiration does not function with this ratio. In this way Coleman is remarking that one can’t consume more than one wastes. Coleman begs the question: What if smokestacks sucked in pollution instead of emitted it? He also uses immersion to remind the spectator that he/she is the secret collaborator in the process of pollution. I enjoyed the way Coleman juxtaposed the cold, steel machinery with the organic, living sound of breathing.
Coleman’s second project was named “Spatiodynamic.” This work consists of an interactive machine that records and codifies the patterns of its spectators, then transmits this data to a grid of computer fans which receives and interprets the code into a pattern of wind. This wind then manipulates a sheet covering the fans, creating billows and ripples in the fabric. The image of these billows and ripples is recorded into a live feed that can be seen by the spectator on a small screen in the gallery. On screen, the manipulated sheet appears to be a moving landscape or ocean waves. The spectator is then able to walk around the corner to examine the machines that are creating the image he/she just witnessed on screen. The spectator can see that the image thought to be endless and organic is actually contrived and mechanical. What’s even more interesting is that the spectator IS the material, the conduit for this art piece! The spectator is translated in a unique landscape. I find that to be a very exciting viewing experience.
The third project of Christopher Coleman that I will discuss is an animation titled “Modern Times,” which was inspired by Charlie Chapman’s film of the same name. This piece deals with human relationships to information and terrorism. To create this animation, Coleman used characters from the online safety pamphlets on the government website www.ready.gov, which is a campaign about preparing the American public for terrorist attacks, in order to critique the government’s appropriation of fear and terror to advance patriotism and ideas of nationality. This work also deals with identity and the arbitrary lines that divide countries and other territories. He describes today’s “Modern Times” as being the age of information and misinformation, and this work shows his distrust in the governing system that pretends to enlighten the masses with “information” that really just keeps the population afraid and under control.
In conclusion, Coleman’s artist lecture proposed that we use art and other creative means to reassess our safety systems currently in place, question our management style and structure, understand our collective responsibility, and critically examine the dangerous implications of a “data body” that is codified, controlled, and managed by others, and that is arguably more valuable than our real, physical body. I found Coleman and his art to be very interesting and pertinent to real-world concerns. I like the way he uses art as a persuasive tool to agitate the viewer into critical thought and (hopefully) into action.
The first project was a video installation titled “Collusion,” which depicted smokestacks expelling and consuming pollution to the soundtrack of realistic human respiration. It was installed as a full wall projection in a gallery with “surround sound” so that the visual image of the “inhaling, exhaling” smokestacks and the sound of breathing immerses and overwhelms the spectator. According to Coleman, the intention of this project was to play with “notions of hope”-- and, in effect, dispersing hope by portraying a never-ending deluge of pollution into the air followed by the re-consumption of it. He mentions that one can’t breathe exactly with the piece because the smokestacks “breathe in” more than they “breathe out,” and human respiration does not function with this ratio. In this way Coleman is remarking that one can’t consume more than one wastes. Coleman begs the question: What if smokestacks sucked in pollution instead of emitted it? He also uses immersion to remind the spectator that he/she is the secret collaborator in the process of pollution. I enjoyed the way Coleman juxtaposed the cold, steel machinery with the organic, living sound of breathing.
Coleman’s second project was named “Spatiodynamic.” This work consists of an interactive machine that records and codifies the patterns of its spectators, then transmits this data to a grid of computer fans which receives and interprets the code into a pattern of wind. This wind then manipulates a sheet covering the fans, creating billows and ripples in the fabric. The image of these billows and ripples is recorded into a live feed that can be seen by the spectator on a small screen in the gallery. On screen, the manipulated sheet appears to be a moving landscape or ocean waves. The spectator is then able to walk around the corner to examine the machines that are creating the image he/she just witnessed on screen. The spectator can see that the image thought to be endless and organic is actually contrived and mechanical. What’s even more interesting is that the spectator IS the material, the conduit for this art piece! The spectator is translated in a unique landscape. I find that to be a very exciting viewing experience.
The third project of Christopher Coleman that I will discuss is an animation titled “Modern Times,” which was inspired by Charlie Chapman’s film of the same name. This piece deals with human relationships to information and terrorism. To create this animation, Coleman used characters from the online safety pamphlets on the government website www.ready.gov, which is a campaign about preparing the American public for terrorist attacks, in order to critique the government’s appropriation of fear and terror to advance patriotism and ideas of nationality. This work also deals with identity and the arbitrary lines that divide countries and other territories. He describes today’s “Modern Times” as being the age of information and misinformation, and this work shows his distrust in the governing system that pretends to enlighten the masses with “information” that really just keeps the population afraid and under control.
In conclusion, Coleman’s artist lecture proposed that we use art and other creative means to reassess our safety systems currently in place, question our management style and structure, understand our collective responsibility, and critically examine the dangerous implications of a “data body” that is codified, controlled, and managed by others, and that is arguably more valuable than our real, physical body. I found Coleman and his art to be very interesting and pertinent to real-world concerns. I like the way he uses art as a persuasive tool to agitate the viewer into critical thought and (hopefully) into action.
Monday, March 19, 2007
paper beads from skillshare
I painted and embellished the paper beads I made in the paper-making skillshare and strung them onto a necklace that I gave as a gift. :) Here are some photos of the finished product.
But is it Installation Art? - Claire Bishop
This article discusses the blurred boundaries between what can (or should) be considered “installation art”, and what does not comply with its sometimes unclear definitive characteristics. Claire Bishop points to the similarities and differences between installation art and an installation of works of art: “Both point to a desire to heighten the viewer's awareness of how objects are positioned (installed) in a space, and of our response to that arrangement,” but “In a piece of installation art... the whole situation in its totality claims to be the work of art,” whereas an installation of works of art is a collection of “separate entities” (Bishop).
What I found to be most interesting is how Bishop describes the ways in which installation art involves the spectator by immersing him or her in the totalizing effect of the work’s environment. Bishop mentions that in the 1970’s, installation art was used by some artists (such as Vito Acconci) to activate the spectator as a parallel for political activism that was the opposite of the passive spectatorship of watching mass-media television. This specific purpose of installation art reminds me strongly of Brechtian theatre techniques as a response to the Wagnerian style of passive, irresponsible voyeurism in the theater. Brecht’s theater used various techniques (such as making the apparatuses of production visible to the spectator) in order to continuously remind the spectator of their presence in the theater, and to make them active, responsible political agents. I believe that Brechtian theater and installation art are similar in that they both attempt to involve the spectator and to make him or her “the main actor” in the piece of art.
I agree with the critics of the magazine October that it is problematic how popular and institutionalized installation art has become. While I appreciate the fact that the genre has been given credibility as an art form by the museums in which it is shown, the fact that galleries are containing installations which, historically, were created in order to undermine and subvert the bourgeois elitism of “high art” galleries, is somewhat insulting to the genre’s integrity. And yet, as Bishop notes, installation art, by definition, needs viewers in order to be experienced and remembered. How can installation art purport to subvert the elitism of The Gallery while it uses it as a host to gain audiences? I believe this question is integral to understanding our current perceptions of installation art.
What I found to be most interesting is how Bishop describes the ways in which installation art involves the spectator by immersing him or her in the totalizing effect of the work’s environment. Bishop mentions that in the 1970’s, installation art was used by some artists (such as Vito Acconci) to activate the spectator as a parallel for political activism that was the opposite of the passive spectatorship of watching mass-media television. This specific purpose of installation art reminds me strongly of Brechtian theatre techniques as a response to the Wagnerian style of passive, irresponsible voyeurism in the theater. Brecht’s theater used various techniques (such as making the apparatuses of production visible to the spectator) in order to continuously remind the spectator of their presence in the theater, and to make them active, responsible political agents. I believe that Brechtian theater and installation art are similar in that they both attempt to involve the spectator and to make him or her “the main actor” in the piece of art.
I agree with the critics of the magazine October that it is problematic how popular and institutionalized installation art has become. While I appreciate the fact that the genre has been given credibility as an art form by the museums in which it is shown, the fact that galleries are containing installations which, historically, were created in order to undermine and subvert the bourgeois elitism of “high art” galleries, is somewhat insulting to the genre’s integrity. And yet, as Bishop notes, installation art, by definition, needs viewers in order to be experienced and remembered. How can installation art purport to subvert the elitism of The Gallery while it uses it as a host to gain audiences? I believe this question is integral to understanding our current perceptions of installation art.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Installation Art
Prior to reading Coulter-Smith's Installation Art, I had some ideas about what constitutes "installation art" from briefly studying its radical origins in the 1960s and 1970s in my Modern Theater class last semester. However, Coulter-Smith's Introduction in the book was especially helpful in offering a workable definition for this kind of art.
Installation Art, according to Coulter-Smith, is "gallery-bound expanded sculpture... that one can walk into," that "presents the viewer with fragments that must be explored and assembled in a manner that ‘activates’ the viewer," and that attempts to "create a more direct involvement between the viewer and the work of art" (Introduction, Coulter-Smith). Installation art has its roots in other art movements earlier in the 20th century, such as Dadaism, Surrealism, Avant-garde, and Performance Art.
Like the Avant-garde and Dada movements, Installation Art was born out of the desire to overcome the eliteness surrounding art and its bourgeois connotations, to instead make art available to everyone, to take it out of the gallery and put it into the hands of the working and middle classes, and to make it universally accessible and free. However, Coulter-Smith acknowledges a problem with Installation Art that shows that it has not lived up to its own aspirations. Since part of its definition is that Installation Art is a constructed environment and a space, and since contemporary Installation Art is primarily shown in galleries, it could be said that Installation Art is elitist, bourgeois, and only accessible to a few. Coulter-Smith sums up this problem: "...transgression has become a civilised activity to be protected and preserved by the art museum and framed as the product of extremely remarkable individuals" (Introduction, Coulter-Smith).
The image I have posted is a photograph of an Installation Art exhibition of twelve horses by Jannis Kounellis in the Galleria L'Attico, Rome in 1969. This example illustrates Coulter-Smith's definition of Installation Art because by installing a set of twelve horses in a gallery, the artist is making a bold statement about what is art and what belongs in a gallery. The horses are clearly everyday objects that can be found outside of a gallery, but by placing them in the context of a spatial environment in which they are to be looked at as "art," the viewer experiences the horses in a different way than if the viewer saw them in the everyday world. In this way, the artist forges a new relationship between art and everyday life.
Personally, I find Installation Art fascinating. I'm already bubbling with ideas on what I will construct for my Final Project Installation.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Teatro Luna S-E-X-Oh!
Teatro Luna, Chicago’s first and only all-Latina theatre troupe, came to St. Mary’s College for a post-Valentines Day show about sex, women, and Latina culture. Although not advertised or loudly proclaimed as being a "feminist" performance, my literacy in the language of feminist theory and rhetoric enabled me to look beyond the entertainment factors of the show and locate the subversive meanings behind the performances. That is not to say that I took more away from the show than another audience member who may not have a rich background in feminist performance theory—to the contrary, I was impressed by how accessible the feminist messages were. Whether or not the average audience member walked away from the performance with the clear notion that what just transpired on stage was feminist, everyone left Bruce Davis theater feeling invigorated and empowered by those five women. Their autobiographical stories—sometimes poignant, sometimes hilarious—were experienced by the audience in fascinating ways. As a collective group of witnesses to these “real-life” accounts (embellished with performative qualities, but not fictionalized), the audience were given the opportunity to glimpse into the lives of Hispanic women within the context of our contemporary world. The audience laughed innocuously at Tanya Saracho as she performed herself as "Carla," the exotic Latina phone sex character, moaning about her "huge brown nipples," but also had to contemplate Saracho’s more realistic disgust with the popular exotic fantasy among the Caucasian male customers: "Brown is hot right now, it's in with perverts… We play out our colonized histories over and over again for $2.99 a minute." Bringing to the surface the complicated issue of sexual colonization is a strong (and, some may say, brave) choice. I was blown away that this particular feminist critique of post-colonial desire was finally being liberated from the stuffy confines of my text books and performed on the Main Stage.
The set was also influenced by feminism. Behind the performance space were five life-sized (or maybe larger than life!) posters of each of the members of the theatre troupe naked. Overlapping these photos was added text that was hand-written by the subjects of each poster. The text added a certain "relief" to the photos, since it discreetly covered any points of female body parts that might be read as "pornographic" (Heaven forbid!). Additionally, the text served as a personal statement from each troupe member on the subject of her own body—the Latina body, which is used in the media without consent in harmful ways that promote degrading stereotypes. In this way, the Teatro Luna members reclaimed their bodies with these multi-textual images.
I enjoyed Teatro Luna’s S-E-X-Oh! performance immensely, and was ultimately inspired and empowered by the subjects raised and the feminist techniques employed.
Monday, March 5, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Jewelry Box Theater (Final Concept Statement)
Concept has changed a bit. Here is my wall blurb for the big exhibit tomorrow! I love where this project has taken me.
Megan Rippey
Jewelry Box Theater
The jewelry puppets are fragile-- please play gently.
I have constructed my "hope chest" in the form of a Jewelry Box Theater. The exterior and interior of my box are not synonymous, but are in conversation. While the exterior of the box realistically resembles a traditional jewelry box (in which one might find a strand of pearls to be worn on a future wedding day), the interior of the box is designed with the style of Rauschenberg in mind (found objects, collage, installation). Certain materials used to design the interior should indicate a miniature theater (red curtain, stage, dressing rooms, etc.). The box appears to contain pieces of jewelry, as a traditional jewelry box would, but on closer inspection the viewer should notice the subversiveness of these objects. The wearable pieces deal with themes such as queerness, anti-marriage, pro-gay marriage, and queer culture. The three necklaces hanging from the ceiling of the theater are meant to be puppets one might play with. The two pairs of earrings are meant to represent the bride and groom in their respective chambers (dressing rooms) prior to the wedding ceremony. However, one might notice that I have exaggerated the conventions of traditional femininity and masculinity so much that they have become "queered." The bride, in effect, is a drag queen, and the groom is a boi (a term I use to refer to a butch lesbian). Because the genders of the bride and groom are queered, their marriage is queered (as they are not a heterosexual couple). I have done this in an effort to confront the controversy of gay marriage. Additionally, all of the theatrical elements I have represented in this piece (script, makeup, costume, roles, audience, etc.) are meant to reveal that things like gender, marriage, and ceremonies are performative and constructed.
Megan Rippey
Jewelry Box Theater
The jewelry puppets are fragile-- please play gently.
I have constructed my "hope chest" in the form of a Jewelry Box Theater. The exterior and interior of my box are not synonymous, but are in conversation. While the exterior of the box realistically resembles a traditional jewelry box (in which one might find a strand of pearls to be worn on a future wedding day), the interior of the box is designed with the style of Rauschenberg in mind (found objects, collage, installation). Certain materials used to design the interior should indicate a miniature theater (red curtain, stage, dressing rooms, etc.). The box appears to contain pieces of jewelry, as a traditional jewelry box would, but on closer inspection the viewer should notice the subversiveness of these objects. The wearable pieces deal with themes such as queerness, anti-marriage, pro-gay marriage, and queer culture. The three necklaces hanging from the ceiling of the theater are meant to be puppets one might play with. The two pairs of earrings are meant to represent the bride and groom in their respective chambers (dressing rooms) prior to the wedding ceremony. However, one might notice that I have exaggerated the conventions of traditional femininity and masculinity so much that they have become "queered." The bride, in effect, is a drag queen, and the groom is a boi (a term I use to refer to a butch lesbian). Because the genders of the bride and groom are queered, their marriage is queered (as they are not a heterosexual couple). I have done this in an effort to confront the controversy of gay marriage. Additionally, all of the theatrical elements I have represented in this piece (script, makeup, costume, roles, audience, etc.) are meant to reveal that things like gender, marriage, and ceremonies are performative and constructed.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Brainstorming/Proposal for Marriage Hope Chest Project
Ideas I potentially want to play with:
*hope chest
*jewelry box
*Pandora's box
*black box theater
*hat box
*vagina box
*drawer
*bureau
*treasure chest
*heart box! (just came up with that!)
Shapes I am considering... non-square, to be sure. Well... actually, a black box theater would probably be square. Rectangular, possibly. I'm attracted to the idea of a circular box (perhaps oval-esque, a feminine shape). I am of course contemplating a heart box. A vagina box would ideally resemble a vulva. A hat box would be circular.
I narrow this list down to... jewelry box, black box, vagina box, and heart box. I shall now sketch them.
The vagina box would be shaped like a vulva, decorated to resemble a vulva, with a lid. Interior would be filled with...
precious treasures!
identity
previous/current/future lovers
something or somethings for myself
a distant dream
The black box theater would be a wooden cube painted black. It would not have a lid. Instead, it would be missing one of its walls, in the tradition of conventional black box realism. The interior would be a stage:
performance of marriage
ceremony
rites
roles
scripts
costumes
audience
The heart box would be similar to vulva box-- a place to keep special things that are mine, gifts of love to myself. The exterior would be shaped like a heart, and it would have a removable lid. Decorated with collage in the Rauschenberg/Johns style: expressing identity with found materials. Interior would be a special room! A "heart chamber."
Place for love letters I have written to/for myself
vows to myself
The jewelry box would be rectangular, and would have a lid that hinged. The exterior would be decorated with feminine details, such as lace, the color pink, beads... The jewelry box would appear feminine and conventional from the outside, but the jewelry inside would be subversive! Anti-wedding, anti-marriage, queer, anti-(ironically) feminine. I might use alternative jewelry-making materials (such as barbed wire), or use traditional jewelry-making materials and use images and text (collage) to make the jewelry have a subversive message. On the underside of the hinged lid I would attach small hooks to hold bracelets and necklaces.
But which idea shall I go with?
Talked with Fereshteh; got some helpful feedback. I'm going to build a box that is a hybrid of my black box theater and my jewelry box.
Concept statement:
I propose to construct a box that is slightly rectangular, elongated lengthwise just a few more inches than the width so that it is not a square. I have yet to decide if I want a functioning lid or a non-functioning lid at the top of the box, and/or a false wall of the box that drops down like a drawbridge. The top (lid?) of the box will feature small hooks (or fabric with snaps) which will serve to hold necklaces, which I will make. The exterior of the box will be overtly feminine, frilly, and "girly", and I will accomplish this using the Rauschenberg/Johns style of collage, found materials, and possibly text (OR the opposite-- I might paint the exterior in the style of abstract expressionism, and make the jewelry in the style of RR/JJ, thereby re-telling the story of how they opposed and subverted the popular abstract expressionism of their time with their work). The color of the exterior will be primarily pink, the color that saturates "girlworld." The interior of the box will be dramatically different from the exterior: it will resemble a theater, and the necklaces that hang down from the roof of the box will be the characters on the floor of the box, which will be the stage. I am contemplating whether to have a functioning lid that is hinged in the back as well as a false wall that drops down to create more playing space for the dolls/characters/jewelry pieces, or to construct only one "door." The jewelry pieces I plan to make will be subversive, directly in opposition to the conventionally feminine exterior. I plan to use images and text and found materials in the style of Rauschenberg to give my jewelry pieces subversive meanings. The jewelry pieces will also resemble bodies, which inhabit a performance space (the stage of the box). I plan to incorporate as many theatrical and performative elements into this work as possible in order to reveal things like gender, marriage, femininity, and ceremonies as performative and constructed.
*hope chest
*jewelry box
*Pandora's box
*black box theater
*hat box
*vagina box
*drawer
*bureau
*treasure chest
*heart box! (just came up with that!)
Shapes I am considering... non-square, to be sure. Well... actually, a black box theater would probably be square. Rectangular, possibly. I'm attracted to the idea of a circular box (perhaps oval-esque, a feminine shape). I am of course contemplating a heart box. A vagina box would ideally resemble a vulva. A hat box would be circular.
I narrow this list down to... jewelry box, black box, vagina box, and heart box. I shall now sketch them.
The vagina box would be shaped like a vulva, decorated to resemble a vulva, with a lid. Interior would be filled with...
precious treasures!
identity
previous/current/future lovers
something or somethings for myself
a distant dream
The black box theater would be a wooden cube painted black. It would not have a lid. Instead, it would be missing one of its walls, in the tradition of conventional black box realism. The interior would be a stage:
performance of marriage
ceremony
rites
roles
scripts
costumes
audience
The heart box would be similar to vulva box-- a place to keep special things that are mine, gifts of love to myself. The exterior would be shaped like a heart, and it would have a removable lid. Decorated with collage in the Rauschenberg/Johns style: expressing identity with found materials. Interior would be a special room! A "heart chamber."
Place for love letters I have written to/for myself
vows to myself
The jewelry box would be rectangular, and would have a lid that hinged. The exterior would be decorated with feminine details, such as lace, the color pink, beads... The jewelry box would appear feminine and conventional from the outside, but the jewelry inside would be subversive! Anti-wedding, anti-marriage, queer, anti-(ironically) feminine. I might use alternative jewelry-making materials (such as barbed wire), or use traditional jewelry-making materials and use images and text (collage) to make the jewelry have a subversive message. On the underside of the hinged lid I would attach small hooks to hold bracelets and necklaces.
But which idea shall I go with?
Talked with Fereshteh; got some helpful feedback. I'm going to build a box that is a hybrid of my black box theater and my jewelry box.
Concept statement:
I propose to construct a box that is slightly rectangular, elongated lengthwise just a few more inches than the width so that it is not a square. I have yet to decide if I want a functioning lid or a non-functioning lid at the top of the box, and/or a false wall of the box that drops down like a drawbridge. The top (lid?) of the box will feature small hooks (or fabric with snaps) which will serve to hold necklaces, which I will make. The exterior of the box will be overtly feminine, frilly, and "girly", and I will accomplish this using the Rauschenberg/Johns style of collage, found materials, and possibly text (OR the opposite-- I might paint the exterior in the style of abstract expressionism, and make the jewelry in the style of RR/JJ, thereby re-telling the story of how they opposed and subverted the popular abstract expressionism of their time with their work). The color of the exterior will be primarily pink, the color that saturates "girlworld." The interior of the box will be dramatically different from the exterior: it will resemble a theater, and the necklaces that hang down from the roof of the box will be the characters on the floor of the box, which will be the stage. I am contemplating whether to have a functioning lid that is hinged in the back as well as a false wall that drops down to create more playing space for the dolls/characters/jewelry pieces, or to construct only one "door." The jewelry pieces I plan to make will be subversive, directly in opposition to the conventionally feminine exterior. I plan to use images and text and found materials in the style of Rauschenberg to give my jewelry pieces subversive meanings. The jewelry pieces will also resemble bodies, which inhabit a performance space (the stage of the box). I plan to incorporate as many theatrical and performative elements into this work as possible in order to reveal things like gender, marriage, femininity, and ceremonies as performative and constructed.
Objectification Zoo: Embodying Prescriptive Feminine Body Ideals
As my video documentation will show, my final demonstration as a culmination of weeks of brainstorming, theorizing, and planning underwent dramatic changes from what I originally described in my project proposal. Previously titled “Gaze-Challenging Body Suit/Skin,” this project evolved from a staged, static demonstration of “Gaze backlash” (I would define this as the act of displaying oneself as an object while frustrating or troubling that status as an object by returning the Gaze to the spectator/voyeur) and reflexivity (with this term I refer to the irony of being covered with images of objectified, fetishized women/sex objects from fashion magazines while at the same time objectifying oneself in a similar manner—on display, posing for onlookers), into something involving these elements but executed quite differently.
Gradually, my project began to form around a particular narrative I had been considering during the brainstorming process: a two-stage transformation of a character. I was advised by my professor that performing my demonstration as a narrative would give more meaning to the duration of time that I was to be performing, and would also provide a more interesting documentation of the performance.
In the first stage of the demonstration, I portrayed a human female—presumably a young adult, which is an age I both resemble and inhabit—performing the mundane, identifiable ritual of flipping through popular fashion magazines and cutting out images, but in a store window. The store window was necessary in that it is a space in which stationary objects are displayed in order to entice potential customers so that they will consume the items. By situating my living body into the space of a store display window, it was my intention to suggest the association between consumable store items and consumable female bodies as objects of the Gaze. The images I cut out of the magazines were images of female body parts that my character desired to embody (for example, an image of perfectly toned thighs, or beautifully make-up eyes, or a thinner waist—any body part that my character admired, envied, and/or desired). Finally, I glued the cut-out images of ideal feminine body parts to my own body, thus literally “embodying” the images. The act of gluing the magazine clippings to my skin demonstrated a transformation, which I will discuss further.
Prior to the actual demonstration, I created a “body suit” of magazine images by taping the clippings to a black leotard. This was essential to the demonstration because I wanted to appear as if I had covered the entire surface area of my skin with the images so that no part of my body appeared to be safe from the invasion of these images. Ideally, I would have preferred to conduct my performance in the nude, but I was concerned for my safety and did not wish to break any laws. Interestingly, the image-laden leotard became a tangible relic of the demonstration; after I removed it, I found that it resembled a shell, or a discarded cocoon, or even a corset that could be re-fastened to the body.
The emergence of a “creature,” a character separate from the human female character in the first stage, distinguishes the second stage of the demonstration, the “transformation stage.” At this point in the demonstration, I had covered my bare skin with multiple images of female body parts cut out of magazines. I then performed a creature that had evolved from the first character. What I wanted to demonstrate was that the human female character who had applied idealized images of body parts to her own body had transformed into something clearly non-human, a creature representing what I see as the result of our beauty ideal-saturated culture and the effects these ideals have on girls and women. In order to perform a “creature” I simply crawled around the window display on all fours, alternating between moods of aggression (in which case I growled, hissed, and clawed through the window at passers-by), or sometimes bewildered shyness, as if I did not understand why I was being looked at. Crawling around inside a glass box made me feel as if I were in a zoo, and the way spectators looked at me and interacted with me certainly made me feel that I was indeed an exotic specimen.
It is important to note that during the first stage, my performance bears a significant resemblance to theatrical realism: I performed in a box with a (literally) transparent fourth wall and utilized the conventions of realistic acting such as ignoring the audience, pretending to be alone and unwatched, and not making any eye contact whatsoever with those looking in. As a performer, I invited and allowed the Gaze of my spectators without challenging it. In the second stage, my performance demonstrated the opposite. I not only made eye-contact, thus challenging their Gaze, I also actively engaged my spectators and sometimes attempted to interact with them. As a result, I found that people were much more willing to stop and stare at me while I was performing in a realistic sense—when I ignored them and did not look up at them. When I actively tried to engage passers-by, I found that people were more likely to exude a quick reaction (usually surprise, amusement, or confusion), then become (seemingly) self-conscious and continue walking.
My project deals with personal space in that my “personal space” in the store window interacts with the “public space” beyond the glass. The glass window being permeable to Gaze, these boundaries were blurred when passers-by had the opportunity to be voyeurs and look in on me performing. The glass provides, in my opinion, the justification that some of the spectators seemed to experience once they saw that I was not going to challenge their gaze; I was doing something alone and secretive, and they had the opportunity to watch. Personal space was again troubled when I, as the creature, returned the Gaze. I was soliciting for responses and reactions, but I was still “safe” behind my glass wall, in my personal space. Even so, many people appeared to be uncomfortable, as if my demonstration in a store window were invading their space, though physically this was not the case. Another way in which my demonstration deals with personal space is the application of magazine clippings to my skin; my personal space was literally invaded by the images of fetishized body parts. This was the performed representation of how fashion images can alter one’s body.
Gradually, my project began to form around a particular narrative I had been considering during the brainstorming process: a two-stage transformation of a character. I was advised by my professor that performing my demonstration as a narrative would give more meaning to the duration of time that I was to be performing, and would also provide a more interesting documentation of the performance.
In the first stage of the demonstration, I portrayed a human female—presumably a young adult, which is an age I both resemble and inhabit—performing the mundane, identifiable ritual of flipping through popular fashion magazines and cutting out images, but in a store window. The store window was necessary in that it is a space in which stationary objects are displayed in order to entice potential customers so that they will consume the items. By situating my living body into the space of a store display window, it was my intention to suggest the association between consumable store items and consumable female bodies as objects of the Gaze. The images I cut out of the magazines were images of female body parts that my character desired to embody (for example, an image of perfectly toned thighs, or beautifully make-up eyes, or a thinner waist—any body part that my character admired, envied, and/or desired). Finally, I glued the cut-out images of ideal feminine body parts to my own body, thus literally “embodying” the images. The act of gluing the magazine clippings to my skin demonstrated a transformation, which I will discuss further.
Prior to the actual demonstration, I created a “body suit” of magazine images by taping the clippings to a black leotard. This was essential to the demonstration because I wanted to appear as if I had covered the entire surface area of my skin with the images so that no part of my body appeared to be safe from the invasion of these images. Ideally, I would have preferred to conduct my performance in the nude, but I was concerned for my safety and did not wish to break any laws. Interestingly, the image-laden leotard became a tangible relic of the demonstration; after I removed it, I found that it resembled a shell, or a discarded cocoon, or even a corset that could be re-fastened to the body.
The emergence of a “creature,” a character separate from the human female character in the first stage, distinguishes the second stage of the demonstration, the “transformation stage.” At this point in the demonstration, I had covered my bare skin with multiple images of female body parts cut out of magazines. I then performed a creature that had evolved from the first character. What I wanted to demonstrate was that the human female character who had applied idealized images of body parts to her own body had transformed into something clearly non-human, a creature representing what I see as the result of our beauty ideal-saturated culture and the effects these ideals have on girls and women. In order to perform a “creature” I simply crawled around the window display on all fours, alternating between moods of aggression (in which case I growled, hissed, and clawed through the window at passers-by), or sometimes bewildered shyness, as if I did not understand why I was being looked at. Crawling around inside a glass box made me feel as if I were in a zoo, and the way spectators looked at me and interacted with me certainly made me feel that I was indeed an exotic specimen.
It is important to note that during the first stage, my performance bears a significant resemblance to theatrical realism: I performed in a box with a (literally) transparent fourth wall and utilized the conventions of realistic acting such as ignoring the audience, pretending to be alone and unwatched, and not making any eye contact whatsoever with those looking in. As a performer, I invited and allowed the Gaze of my spectators without challenging it. In the second stage, my performance demonstrated the opposite. I not only made eye-contact, thus challenging their Gaze, I also actively engaged my spectators and sometimes attempted to interact with them. As a result, I found that people were much more willing to stop and stare at me while I was performing in a realistic sense—when I ignored them and did not look up at them. When I actively tried to engage passers-by, I found that people were more likely to exude a quick reaction (usually surprise, amusement, or confusion), then become (seemingly) self-conscious and continue walking.
My project deals with personal space in that my “personal space” in the store window interacts with the “public space” beyond the glass. The glass window being permeable to Gaze, these boundaries were blurred when passers-by had the opportunity to be voyeurs and look in on me performing. The glass provides, in my opinion, the justification that some of the spectators seemed to experience once they saw that I was not going to challenge their gaze; I was doing something alone and secretive, and they had the opportunity to watch. Personal space was again troubled when I, as the creature, returned the Gaze. I was soliciting for responses and reactions, but I was still “safe” behind my glass wall, in my personal space. Even so, many people appeared to be uncomfortable, as if my demonstration in a store window were invading their space, though physically this was not the case. Another way in which my demonstration deals with personal space is the application of magazine clippings to my skin; my personal space was literally invaded by the images of fetishized body parts. This was the performed representation of how fashion images can alter one’s body.
Statement About “Gaze-Challenging Body Suit/Skin”
I propose to construct a costume that will be bonded directly to the skin of the artist/model. The costume would be a collage of magazine clippings of images of sexualized women. My inclination is to only use images of disembodied body parts; for example, an eye instead of an entire face. The demonstration would consist of the artist/model displaying herself in a store window, preferably in an indoor mall. While on display, the artist/model would pose for the spectator/voyeur that stopped to look, but would not be a passive object. The artist/model would instead make eye contact with the spectators/voyeurs, thereby effectively “troubling” their Gaze.
Personal space is affected by the clear glass between the spectator/voyeur and the artist/model: the spectators feel safe and justified in staring at the model due to her status as a display object and a sex object, and she feels safe in her “private” personal space behind the glass. This is similar to a peep show, which I am reminded of while I theorize my idea by an applicable book I recently read about women, power, and erotic dancing called Bare by Elizabeth Eaves. In it, Eaves discusses the nature and constructions of power between customers and peep show dancers, the strange comfort of the glass between them, and notions of feeling safe and powerful while subjecting oneself to objectification for the means of a stranger’s sexual gratification. I struggled with these themes throughout the book, and having finished it, I still find these topics to be problematic and fascinating.
By covering myself with images of disembodied sexualized women in magazines, I am conducting an exercise of reflexivity: by eliciting the spectator’s gaze to the images on my body I am in effect drawing the spectator’s attention to his (or her) voyeurism and my objectification. The suit/skin of images brings to mind a kind of armor, or scales...
The imagery of scales is powerful, and I am contemplating working more with that idea. A little rhyme I made up comes to mind:
you consume me.
I consume you.
I am the creature
of your objectification zoo.
The Gaze being consumptive, the spectator/voyeur consumes me while I direct my Gaze back and consume the spectator/voyeur. With the collage of images I hope to evoke an image of a creature covered in scales, a creature that is the product of our objectifying society, a creature that is the product of what women have morphed into through the evolution of fashion, rape-culture, and patriarchy. As if there is a zoo of these women, and I am a creature in the zoo.
Something else I found myself toying with is communication, and how badly I want to communicate during this process. I do not want to verbally say anything during the demonstration, and I think that is important, but I feel the urge to create a venue of discourse for the public to communicate with me. I thought about posing a question without verbally asking it, and having the spectators answer, either on a message board, or to the video camera. Some questions I would love to know are as follows:
what do I mean to you?
what does this mean to you?
what do you think about this?
and my favorite, which would be the most succinct:
(un)comfortable?
I have many decisions about this project yet to be made.
Personal space is affected by the clear glass between the spectator/voyeur and the artist/model: the spectators feel safe and justified in staring at the model due to her status as a display object and a sex object, and she feels safe in her “private” personal space behind the glass. This is similar to a peep show, which I am reminded of while I theorize my idea by an applicable book I recently read about women, power, and erotic dancing called Bare by Elizabeth Eaves. In it, Eaves discusses the nature and constructions of power between customers and peep show dancers, the strange comfort of the glass between them, and notions of feeling safe and powerful while subjecting oneself to objectification for the means of a stranger’s sexual gratification. I struggled with these themes throughout the book, and having finished it, I still find these topics to be problematic and fascinating.
By covering myself with images of disembodied sexualized women in magazines, I am conducting an exercise of reflexivity: by eliciting the spectator’s gaze to the images on my body I am in effect drawing the spectator’s attention to his (or her) voyeurism and my objectification. The suit/skin of images brings to mind a kind of armor, or scales...
The imagery of scales is powerful, and I am contemplating working more with that idea. A little rhyme I made up comes to mind:
you consume me.
I consume you.
I am the creature
of your objectification zoo.
The Gaze being consumptive, the spectator/voyeur consumes me while I direct my Gaze back and consume the spectator/voyeur. With the collage of images I hope to evoke an image of a creature covered in scales, a creature that is the product of our objectifying society, a creature that is the product of what women have morphed into through the evolution of fashion, rape-culture, and patriarchy. As if there is a zoo of these women, and I am a creature in the zoo.
Something else I found myself toying with is communication, and how badly I want to communicate during this process. I do not want to verbally say anything during the demonstration, and I think that is important, but I feel the urge to create a venue of discourse for the public to communicate with me. I thought about posing a question without verbally asking it, and having the spectators answer, either on a message board, or to the video camera. Some questions I would love to know are as follows:
what do I mean to you?
what does this mean to you?
what do you think about this?
and my favorite, which would be the most succinct:
(un)comfortable?
I have many decisions about this project yet to be made.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
"Extended and Prosthetic Bodies" response
Thinking about the performative body in space is a concept I learned how to wrap my mind around very early in my academic career, but conceptualizing the possibilities of performances in non-space, such as the mind, is something I am still grappling with. The art work “Dialogue of Hands” is an example of this kind of art that fascinates me: as described in the text, “the Mobius strip becomes incorporated into the body and becomes an embodiment of consciousness and inter-relationality, an extension of body into psyche, rather than out into space” (pg 180). The hands that are held within the Mobius strip perform by moving within the range of movement allowed by the elasticity of the strip, but the performance is transcribed into the mind. There is a “theater of the mind” that is being practiced and experimented with in Slovenia which deals with the relationship between spatial performance and the internal, theatrical mind. It is very interesting, but excruciatingly difficult to understand!
Louise Bourgeois seems to be, as far as this small description goes, a radical (as referring to a kind of feminism, not referring to the dictionary meaning of the adjective), performative feminist artist. Her art is very “loud,” and seems to reflect the feminist climate of the early 1970s, which might be described as being rather separatist compared to the more “politically correct” version of humanist feminism which emphasizes equality rather than superiority. Her work appears to go beyond anti-patriarchy to express a violent hatred for “The Father,” or the patriarchy. This is not necessarily a criticism; though I have not studied her, I would venture to guess that she was a revolutionary feminist artist that had a lot of valid anger to express in her art. I am only wary to “congratulate” her on the theoretical value of this costume piece because the author suggests that the costume symbolizes castrated testicles, which is a message of violence that I respect and value as an opinionated message but do not necessarily agree with. However, I would be interested to read the artist’s statement on the costume. The artist’s description of the installation “The Destruction of the Father” is also very violent but very provocative and interesting to me-- specifically, the fact that the family, including the brother, consumed the father in protest of his patriarchal conceit. Consuming the patriarch, instead of simply killing him, is notable because of what it means for the consumers who are eliminating his space, canceling his body, and also nourishing themselves with him. It is a horrific image, but a very interesting one that I’d like to think more on.
I have never heard of or thought about a feminist plastic surgeon, but there is one mentioned in the description of Orlan’s “performance-operation.” What makes a feminist plastic surgeon? Or rather-- what makes a feminist a plastic surgeon, or a plastic surgeon a feminist? Unfortunately I would be unable to watch Orlan’s plastic surgery performance, as I am incorrigibly squeamish.
The piece “Hyperventilation” by Heli Rekula is great! The notion and visual of a self-contained human body with all orifices safely sealed and recycling its own waste is a beautiful idea, but the body ultimately cannot survive this way, thus proving that the human being needs openings-- for food in the mouth, words in the ear, sexual pleasure, release of excrement, etc. That’s a very smart work.
This quote by Stahl Stenslie is really valuable: “At the end of the millennium, the body has turned into a schizoid corpus. It is on the one hand a single, unitary, physical object with a lifespan of approximately seventy years, and on the other hand it has done the quantum jump into a transcendental, multiple self of mediated realities.”
I like the maternal connotations associated with Egle Rakauskaite’s “In Honey” work. It is a striking image to see an adult woman curled in a womb of honey, suspended in the air as if inside a vast, life-supporting female body.
I want this book.
Louise Bourgeois seems to be, as far as this small description goes, a radical (as referring to a kind of feminism, not referring to the dictionary meaning of the adjective), performative feminist artist. Her art is very “loud,” and seems to reflect the feminist climate of the early 1970s, which might be described as being rather separatist compared to the more “politically correct” version of humanist feminism which emphasizes equality rather than superiority. Her work appears to go beyond anti-patriarchy to express a violent hatred for “The Father,” or the patriarchy. This is not necessarily a criticism; though I have not studied her, I would venture to guess that she was a revolutionary feminist artist that had a lot of valid anger to express in her art. I am only wary to “congratulate” her on the theoretical value of this costume piece because the author suggests that the costume symbolizes castrated testicles, which is a message of violence that I respect and value as an opinionated message but do not necessarily agree with. However, I would be interested to read the artist’s statement on the costume. The artist’s description of the installation “The Destruction of the Father” is also very violent but very provocative and interesting to me-- specifically, the fact that the family, including the brother, consumed the father in protest of his patriarchal conceit. Consuming the patriarch, instead of simply killing him, is notable because of what it means for the consumers who are eliminating his space, canceling his body, and also nourishing themselves with him. It is a horrific image, but a very interesting one that I’d like to think more on.
I have never heard of or thought about a feminist plastic surgeon, but there is one mentioned in the description of Orlan’s “performance-operation.” What makes a feminist plastic surgeon? Or rather-- what makes a feminist a plastic surgeon, or a plastic surgeon a feminist? Unfortunately I would be unable to watch Orlan’s plastic surgery performance, as I am incorrigibly squeamish.
The piece “Hyperventilation” by Heli Rekula is great! The notion and visual of a self-contained human body with all orifices safely sealed and recycling its own waste is a beautiful idea, but the body ultimately cannot survive this way, thus proving that the human being needs openings-- for food in the mouth, words in the ear, sexual pleasure, release of excrement, etc. That’s a very smart work.
This quote by Stahl Stenslie is really valuable: “At the end of the millennium, the body has turned into a schizoid corpus. It is on the one hand a single, unitary, physical object with a lifespan of approximately seventy years, and on the other hand it has done the quantum jump into a transcendental, multiple self of mediated realities.”
I like the maternal connotations associated with Egle Rakauskaite’s “In Honey” work. It is a striking image to see an adult woman curled in a womb of honey, suspended in the air as if inside a vast, life-supporting female body.
I want this book.
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