This week we’re excited to publish our call for proposals for this year’s Visualeyez festival:
The Thirteenth annual Visualeyez festival of performance art happens from 10–16 September 2012 in the downtown core of Edmonton, Alberta, exploring on the curatorial theme of loneliness.
Visualeyez takes place over a period of seven days and it is required that all invited artists are able to attend for the entire length of the festival. Artists experience the work of other artists; engage in discussion groups, meals and other activities that enhance the work of individual artists and the performance art community within Canada and beyond. It is important that prior to submitting that artist is available for a minimum of six days during the festival. Please visit visualeyez.org for the past festival information.
Curator and Founder of Visualeyez, Todd Janes states, “Visualeyez 2012 builds upon notions of an ever-expanding and more urban city. This theme will explore issues such as emotional versus social isolation, chronic and transient states of loneliness within the city and our inter-relationships with crowds, emptiness and intimacy. I want to present artists that will explore the theme of loneliness and enhance dialogues regarding the societal issues, community connectivity and understanding of the concept and its impact on individuals and society as a whole.”
I have been thinking a lot about “pre intentions” and what it would be like to let go of them when performing. Years ago I say a guy with a shirt that said: “No expectations, no disapointments.” It made me laugh when I first say it but as I kept thinking about it it started to make me think differently about understanding the beauty of life as it is not as we may want it to be.
I like how your work exists within environments – for the most part- that are uncontrolled and constantly in flux. The idea of creating space and taking ownership of that space is a lot more challenging when outside the protective space of a gallery. Not that the gallery is a completely dead space and therefore obsolete/ unnesecary- as it lets the artist address its history and can engage the viewer(s), participant(s) and artist(s) in ways that being in public can’t, but saying that I don’t think it holds the same ‘power’ it used to. Which makes me think of the breaking down of “authority” within the arts in general. To me there are no alternative spaces anymore, anyway. I think it’s more important to me to think in terms of context and maching the work to a space rather than the other way around. We all exist somewhere at some time and so does the manifistations of our actions/ ideas. For the most part, how the viewer reads a work depends on the individual and what they bring to it. The thing that I think is most difficult about performing outside of the gallery is that there are very few free spaces where a person can express themselves without being moved along. It’s criminal that cities make it nearly impossible to enjoy a space in the way we need to- from the no loitering signs to the blatant middle bars placed on benches to the concrete seats with steel plates afixed to their edges- to detere skateboaders from sliding across them. When I lived in Toronto- (by York University) (Jane and Finch area) I was always struck by the bleekness of all the concrete towers. So drab and hollow and cold. Everything was grey and univiting. On my way to the store I would always see this group of men sitting cross-legged on a small patch of grass in front of one of those towers with their tiny colman burner trying to have a picnic. It struck me that cities basically asign places where citizens go and can’t go. Even nature is like this now. We can’t roam freely, anymore. There is so much control our our human spaces. This is something that I liked about Amy’s last piece- she seemed to take ownership of her space in that park. She marked the ground but also marked our need to take back what is all of ours.
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When Emilio and his mother performed their collaboration I was struck by how much the audience wanted to give. This is the power of making work with honest intentions. Emilios’ mother exuded a power and strength that I have been privileged to witness through many women I have known. Their piece made me think about the bond between a mother and child but also the others bonds that are more fleeting like the bond that sometimes happens between the audience and performer(s). I think that Emilio has adeptly shown our most basic universal connection- to nurture and be nurtured. The strength is in his work seems to stem from his softness- his openness to the people in the room. He didn’t just include us in the piece he held out his hand and walked us into his home. I actually think the most revelling part of the performance was when he was speaking in Spanish to his mother and not translating- the intimacy in doing something public and private at the same time. A small moment. But it’s in these small moments where this crossover between doing and living exists- between memories and dreams; between anticipation and acceptance; between love and reverence. Anyway, a performance is beyond an experience or a memory- it’s a portal into something deeper…
a conversation cannot replace a performance. i was not able to see michael dudeck perform, and so, as a second best, we met for breakfast so i could attempt to see deeper into this generous and articulate person.
what i saw was an artist who has an ardent desire to create a world to inhabit. you could say this is what drives most artists, however in dudeck’s case i would wager this desire incorporates a love.
not only a love for his fellow human travellers on this planet, but a love for what has not yet been imagined. or named. or given a territory. and so michael dudeck has an ardent desire to create this territory, to stake out a place and to occupy it. this territory can be glimpsed through his performance here at visualeyez. it is a territory of lush sensuousness. but also of brutal animalism. it is a territory where animal and human, male and female merge, mingle, separate and copulate. it is a world where magic and ritual reign. but it is also a deeply tender world. where beings can be seen and protected until they too find their own voice. it is a world caught in a glimpse, and then flung wide open. it pulsates and gyrates and the drums can be heard. smoke and mist and vast landscapes go on for miles. you can get lost in this world and you may never find your way out. it is queer.
so yes, michael dudeck has this vision. but he also has something else. ambition. an ambition and a sensitivity to the codes and protocols of a world of art i will never feel comfortable in. but he does. and michael dudeck is going to enter this world because this world can give him what he needs in order to create his world. it is hard to be ambitious in self-effacing canada. but you know, i think canada is ready for people who are going to take their ideas as far and as wide as they can. it requires a vastness of vision as well as an ability to be flexible enough and perseverant enough and hard nosed enough. i am not sure the michael dudeck i saw was hard nosed enough, but i have no doubt he will learn to manoeuvre to receive what he needs, and i, for one, sincerely hope to see michael succeed, because i too believe this world of his needs to be visioned and explored and inhabited.
although, if michael decides to stay up north and be a shaman who fights for the rights of the indiginous peoples, well, I woud be cool with that too.
performance art in public space can be tricky. you never really know how the work will be received - security might be called or the police alerted because any unknown or unusual activity can be deemed ”suspicious.”
often the safest bet for the artist is to act “as if” the authority resides in them, “as if” this activity is completely normal and they are just “doing their job.” and this is exactly what amy malbeuf did. she arrived on the scene, she performed her task, she left. perfectly normal. except, amy malbeuf was dressed in a silver leotard that completely covered her body. her body…and her head. no eyes, no nose, no mouth, no skin, no hair was visible. all we see is a body encased in silver. the task performed involved walking in a circle and spreading some colourful substance with a “golfgreen” fertilizer spreader.
as an unsuspecting audience you could be more charmed than alarmed. this was, after all, a daylight activity performed in a park. the silver being did not seem to pose a threat, and there was no obvious danger either to the silver being or to yourself.
if you had the time and the inclination you would probably sit on the concrete ledge next to the grass and watch. and this is precisely what various “spectators” did. i imagine they would have found pleasure in the confident stride of the being dressed in silver, and perhaps they found pleasure in the sparkly reflective quality of the clothing. the coloured substance coming from the fertilizer spreader was also pleasing to the eye. there was comfort found in the repetition of the action. the sensation was not, i suspect, very different than the pleasure one receives from sitting in a park and watching grass being mown. watching a body engaging fully in a task is one of the small pleasures of life, and here this pleasure is augmented by the beauty of the spectacle unfolding before you.
first a pale blue substance is scattered via a fertilizer spreader in the configuration of a circle. after this circle is complete the silver being pours a darker blue material into the fertilizer spreader. this darker blue is spread on top of the pale blue. i think of matisse as this colour is spread. henri matisse and his paper cutouts, where often a clear blue predominated. however the silver being does not stop here. on top of the blue ground a white substance is spread, and on top of the white substance a golden-brown large seed is spread. “wheat” i hear someone say. the circle is complete, the work done. i watch as the silver being flings a brown sack over the shoulder and, pushing the greengolfer feeder in front, walks down the sidewalk and out of view. i watch the figure walk away until they slip out of sight. i wonder, what was that about?
as a spectator i could leave the performance here and have it rest as a moment in my life where i saw something strange and wonderful. i could also share what i had seen with friends.
lets just say one of my friends who i told the story to was curious and wanted to know more. i could take this friend back to the park and show them the circle as this trace of the action remains. its possible the colours in the circle are scuffed because people have shuffled over the pigment or perhaps some of the seeds are gone, plucked by birds. my friend, curious as to what the carrier of the pigment is, might bend down and take some of the blue stuff into their hands, smell it, taste it. if so, my friend would discover the material was salt.
hmmm… salt. that is interesting. coloured salt on brick. i wonder what that does? my friend (obviously smarter and more resourceful than i am) tells me when salt is given to cows (as cows must have salt in order to survive) the grass around the salt dies. in fact, my friend continues, salt is poisonous and if eaten in too great a quantity causes death. it’s called salt poisoning.
curious. why would someone colour salt and put it in a park and then put seeds on top of this poisonous substance? my friend, (yes the curious one) decides to google. being incredibly talented my friend comes to this page: http://www.visualeyez.org/festival-2011/artists/amy-malbeuf/ where the project is described and the silver being named.
with this additional information the reading of the action in the park shifts. no longer solely a wondrous magical spectacle the action now becomes loaded with a deeper political and social meaning. these are not ordinary circles, they are markers of a sacred space. the salt, which is the carrier of coloured pigment is meant to be destructive, to reflect a destruction felt by one people through the actions of another people. in this case by indigenous peoples and their colonizers.
as i reflect on this deeper significance i start to imagine how a colonial invasion of amy’s silver being might play out. i start to imagine hundreds, no millions of beings covered in silver cloth descending on edmonton and creating sacred circles. sacred circles that, in effect, are poisonous to the earth. personally, i would have to say that’s a pretty good analogy for the effects of colonialism. an encounter that starts off being a pleasurable sensation of seeing a strange and wondrous being then turns into an occupation that overruns the land and ends up poisoning us all. the drive of colonialism was the accumulation of wealth and goods – i.e. capitalism, and as capitalism knows no bounds the destructive impulse behind colonialism is still alive and well
i think here of amy malbeuf’s circles and the empty space inside the circle. perhaps this inner sanctum is protected; perhaps this inner sanctum is the sacred space of hope.
i want you to know. there is a woman. a woman who is unmaking. returning to thread a cloth. returning to thread a cloth that was made. returning to thread a cloth that was made to be cut into a pattern. returning to thread a cloth that was made to be cut into a pattern to be sewn into a uniform to be worn by a human being to mark this human being as belonging to an army. i want you to know there is a woman who is unmaking this uniform and returning it to thread. so we can begin again. we can start over again.
today we meet inside. the weather has turned windy and cold. again there is a circle, but no table between. we discuss work that is not gallery specific. emilio rojas’ relational ritual and aimée henny brown’s revival walk. the fact that both these works break with the standards of both gallery viewing and theatre creates challenges and unique opportunities. also, with emilio’s work being relational every person present was the “keeper” of their own unique experience. there was no right or wrong in the telling of how the work affected each person. there was also an incredible sense of generosity that came forward today where support was offered in a way any artist (or person for that matter) loves to hear…”we will be there for you.” this being with each other and for each other, is in a sense what these two works are grappling with. the question is as old as time and will i suspect, always be relevant.
delicate work. the cloth held between the hands. one hand holding cloth, one hand pinching thread to draw it out from the cloth. the sound of one thread being drawn through the length of the cloth. like a wave. one thread at a time. one wave at a time. i become lulled as if i am watching the waves roll in on a beach.
i am amazed at the tranquility engendered by watching helene vosters engage in her self-appointed task. i wonder if i am projecting some desire for maternal care. helene vosters sitting with cloth in hand reminds me of how my sons would come to me with their stuffed animals for me to repair. this posture of sitting, hands engaged, head bowed, this attentiveness to detail, to cloth - is this reparation?
today i do not feel sadness, nor do i think about war, rather i allow the serenity of this scene to flow over me.
i am met at the entrance to the building by a group of people sitting on the steps. as i go to open the door to run up to the gallery they tell me only one person is permitted to enter the building at a time. the people sitting on the steps inform me they have been there since 17h30. i panic realizing i will not be able to see and hence not able to experience the performance - meaning i will not be able to blog about this performance as there is no way all these people will pass through before the performance ends its durational slot. as i am realizing this emilio arrives at the entrance to the building and invites one person to enter. it is helene vosters turn, but she graciously yields to me in my role as “the blogger.” not quite certain this is an ethical manoeuvre, i take helene’s place and follow emilio up the stairs to the gallery.
emilio rojas bids me to cross the threshold into a location completely transformed by his project. candles offer light and incense scents the space. the performance, or ritual begins immediately. i don’t have time to adjust to the light, or to take off my backpack. smoke from burning sage is wafted near my head as emilio beckons me to give him my hands, which i do. a ceremony of hand washing begins, and i, realizing the ceremony has begun, ask emilio if i can take off my backpack. he helps me with the weight of the pack and puts it behind the counter.
emilio takes me through a variety of actions: hands washing, feet washing, offering a berry to my lips, placing a heavy rock in my hands, pennies in my pockets. i am both delighted and sceptical. delighted by emilio and his attentions to my being and the space he has created, yet sceptical of the consequences of some of the actions and his ability to really “see” and be attentive to the singularity of my body and my experiences. i feel both power and innocence in emilio as we go through the rituals he has created.
i am surprised by the strength i feel in emilio, for there is a sureness and power that transcends his gentle nature. i leave the performance acutely aware of a potential in emilio to create a very deep and empowering connection within. i believe this potential in emilio rojas to be quite unique. i am not speaking of an everyday connection here, but rather someone who has the power to create a connection between what i will call the “divine” for lack of a better word, and the innermost tenderness we all carry within.
