PERFORMANCE ON SCREEN
Organised by Picture This and Capture at Watershed, Bristol
13 February 2008
Dr Tracey Warr
© Tracey Warr
The key points that I will be developing in this presentation are:
• That, unlike other artforms, performance has no fixed referential basis and therefore continues to operate in the world through the traces it leaves behind
• That there are differences and common ground between visual art based performance and dance based performance on screen
• That a conflation of performance documentation and performance that is purposefully and primarily made to be a screen based object sometimes occurs, and needs to be carefully unpacked.
• That on screen, all bodies become avatars. It’s not necessary for the image to be graphic for the image of the body to be made an avatar.
• That economic transactions and ethical issues underlie all artwork, and I will look at that specifically in relation to performance on screen.
My area of expertise is in visual art based performance, but I’ve tried to relate my comments and examples to the spectrum of performance encompassing both the visual arts and dance.
The distinctive character of performance means that it is closely tied to issues around documentation. Performance, unlike the other art forms, has no fixed referential basis. The original source disappears in performance.
‘Strictly speaking it is impossible to use the body as an object. The only case in which a body approaches the status of object is when it becomes a corpse’ (Sharp 1970: 16).
The body in performance will get up and walk away.
[Slide: James Luna, Artifact Piece, 1985-87]
No art object has a single fixed meaning – each is influenced by the differing contexts and times in which it is displayed and received. At least, with the traditional art object, there is a fixed referent, subject only to physical deterioration.
[Slides: Piero Manzoni, Artist’s Breath (inflated in 1960) and Piero Manzoni, Artist’s Breath (deflated in 2008)]
Performance on the other hand continues to exist only through an accumulation of documentation and discourse.
Performance is intensely alive because of its transitory ephemerality. It continues to work in the world through the traces it leaves behind, the retellings and imaginative recreations of acts, the distortions and exaggerations of myth and legend. as the originary act is refracted through discourse, as it moves through textual, filmic, photographic, oral and reimagined dissemination.
Artform Distinctions – Visual Arts Performance/Dance
In the 1960s and 1970s there was a belief that the distinct artforms would merge into one. Dick Higgins’ essay, ‘Intermedia’, is an example of that belief:
‘For the last ten years or so, artists have changed their media … to the point where the media have broken down in their traditional forms, and have become merely puristic points of reference’ (Higgins, 1966, reprinted in Armstrong & Rothfuss, 1993: 172).
Visual artists made performances drawing on and collaborating with contemporary performing artists and vice versa. Famous examples were the Bauhaus and Dada combinations of visual art and dance – such as performances created by Francis Picabia and Erik Satie or by Oskar Schlemmer;
[Slides: Oskar Schlemmer, Triadic Ballet, 1922; Oskar Schlemmer, Space Dance, 1920s]
Pelican (1963), a collaboration between Robert Rauschenberg, Carolyn Brown and Alex Hay;
[Slide: Robert Rauschenberg, Carolyn Brown and Alex Hay, Pelican (1963)]
the collaborations between Nam June Paik and musician Charlotte Moorman;
[Slide: Nam June Paik and Charlotte Moorman, TV Bra, 1972]
and site-based dance work such as Trisha Brown’s Roof Piece (1973) and the performances of the New York Happenings scene.
[Slide: Trisha Brown, Roof Piece (1973)]
Carolee Schneemann and Robert Morris were amongst visual artists who collaborated with dancers and were associated with the dance world around the Judson Church space in New York. When Joan Jonas made her first performance in 1968, she was collaborating with sculptor, Richard Serra, on the one hand, and on the other hand attending workshops with Trisha Brown and drawing on the work of other dancers including Lucinda Childs, Yvonne Rainer, Simone Forti and Deborah Hay. Jonas described her work as ‘in between dance and sculpture’ (Simon, 1995: 75).
A cross fertilisation between dance and visual art certainly took place and artists’ experimentation in that period expanded the understanding of the art form categories, blurred their boundaries and initiated a rich field of cross artform collaboration. The complete dissolution of artform distinctions, however, predicted by Higgins and others, did not take place. The separate art categories remain firmly in place today. The distinctions between the artforms are bolstered by differing educational and training routes, differing historical references and trajectories, differing dominant conventions (the gallery versus the stage for instance) and differing audience expectations. The toolkit of techniques, strategies, histories and discourses that a visual artist approaches performance with, differs from the toolkit carried by an artist coming from a background and training in dance.
And then what happens when performance – whether it is visual art based or dance based is combined with another medium – with screen based media? Visual artists rarely collaborate with a trained filmdirector or scriptwriter. Instead they tend to be self-taught and to make a distinctly different type of film from a trained filmmaker.
Pragmatically filmmaking usually involves the marshalling of substantial teams of people with designated roles and substantially more resources than the shoestring that visual artists traditionally have worked with. In 1990 I worked as a curator with Isaac Julien on a site-based performance. Isaac is principally a film maker and turned up with a long list of the crew he would need to help him realise his work: locations manager, costume manager, someone to look after the cast, runner etc. to which I responded: ‘Yup, that would be me!’ When he needed 18 pairs of leather chaps (the over-trousers that cowboys wear), I went to the local gay nightclub, jumped on a table, explained that I needed to borrow 18 pairs of leather chaps for a project by Isaac Julien and 18 people whipped them off and lent them to me. (I was rewarded with a life-time membership of the club for having the gall to ask, but then later banned for ‘reckless dancing’.)
[Slides: Isaac Julien, Looking for Langston, 1990, peripatetic performances in London and Newcastle as part of Edge 90]
It was interesting to see what someone who was primarily a filmmaker did with a live sited performance. Julien constructed the performance as a series of tableaux and moved his audience around these sited and precisely timed scenes.
Alongside their differences, both visual art and dance performance share an impetus to employ the language of the body. Ideas about the body as a channel of communication coming from anthropology had a substantial impact on visual art performance in the 1970s.
‘Speech has been over-emphasised as the privileged means of human communication, and the body neglected. It is time to rectify this neglect and to become aware of the body as the physical channel of meaning’ (Douglas, 1978).
‘Language is useful to explain and describe – if it can find itself. But by and in itself it means nothing … The body surpasses the word’ (Export, 1996).
Artist, Kira O’Reilly has recently said ‘I use the body when words fail me.’
In visual art, use of the body is often concept driven, but it can also be concerned with the body in space, relating it to both sculpture and dance, as we can see in the work of John Wood and Paul Harrison for instance.
I’d like to talk more now about performance documentation, and my primary question here is: Does ‘documentation’ actually exist or is any documentation made for public viewing, in fact, simply a different form of artwork.
There are a range of different types of performance documentation including video, photograph, text, relic, legend, reenactment and retelling. Whichever it is, all forms of performance documentation filter, edit, omit, frame, place emphasis.
Douglas Crimp has argued that,
‘Performance can only exist in the process of its enactment, not in its integrity as an object’ (Crimp 1983: 10).
There is an idea that documentation is subsidiary to the real artwork. It is generally thought of as a secondary record. But visual art based performance comes out of a tradition of making static images. There is a conscious discourse of visuality/image/ gaze in visual art performance and the photographic image (both still and moving) has a long history of being an integrated part of this performance.
There is often a confusion around the term ‘documentation’ and artists who work with still or moving photographic images as an integral part of their performance practice. KMA’s Flock, for instance, was a pedestrian performance of Swan Lake in Trafalgar Square.
[Slide: KMA, Flock, 2007]
If you watch the documentation of this on YouTube, that is dissemination of documentation as opposed to a performance work purposely made for the screen. As the artists say about the image we are looking at on YouTube, they have thrown it together. A characteristic of documentation is that is often imperfect in terms of image, sound, editing, lighting. These elements are set up for the live performance and the camera is merely an unobtrusive member of the audience – capturing what it can of the gist of the live act.
But other artists deliberately make a second artwork from the footage of a live performance. In these cases the performance is conceived of, at least in part, as the construction of an image or sequence of images that the camera captures, allowing a secondary audience, beyond the original witnesses, to enter imaginatively into the image and the act. The production of the secondary artwork is often, an intentional part of the artists’ structuring of the live performance. Adrian George’s Art, Lies and Videotape, 2003, contains some useful discussion of these issues.
Conflicting demands are placed on performance by theatrical and fine art traditions. The theatrical tradition envisages the live act as primary, cathartic, witnessed. In the history of fine art, however, representation and simulation have always had an integral role. In a ‘theatrical’ reading of performance an ‘actual’, live interaction between performer and audience is given priority over the record. In the fine art tradition, far from having a subsidiary or merely documentary status, photography and performance have been an integrated practice. A substantial number of ‘60s and ‘70s ‘performances’ are in fact hybrid performance photography, both still and moving, not performed for live audiences but for the camera.
[Slides: Marcel Duchamp, Tonsure, 1919; Marcel Duchamp and Man Ray, Rrose Selavy, c. 1920s]
The performance photograph or film relates to a question posed by Marcel Duchamp: where is the art? Is it in the art object or is it in the relationship between a provocation by the artist and an individual viewer, whatever that provocation is – a painting, a photograph, a live gesture, a dance, a film? Duchamp argued that there are ’two poles of the creation of art: the artist on the one hand, and on the other the spectator who later becomes the posterity’. The spectator co-creates the work of art. Duchamp argues that when the artwork leaves the artist’s studio or is otherwise put out by the artist it,
‘is still in a raw state, which must be refined as pure sugar from molasses, by the spectator… the creative act is not performed by the artist alone; the spectator brings the work in contact with the external world by deciphering and interpreting its inner qualifications and thus adds his contribution to the creative act.’
The photograph and film as document usually assumes authenticity and authority, yet it is neither objective, necessarily factual nor a complete record. The creativity, selectivity and filter of the photographers and subsequent editors frequently remain invisible. The photograph or film has a compromised status as evidence and proof.
Documentation always has an aesthetic of is own. Peter Moore, for instance, who produced many of the memorable images of Fluxus and other ‘60s New York performances, describes himself as taking a ‘truth telling’ stance, aiming to ‘make the best images he could of exactly what was occurring’ (Zelavansky). There can be, however, no objective, stable, ‘truth’ in performance photography and film documents. The photograph always thwarts the idea that it can show the complete or ‘real’ performance to us: ‘desire for traditional narrativist closure will always be short-circuited by the limited information available’ (O’Dell).
The photograph or filmic document purports to show us something real and actual which is however also mediated. The very incompleteness and paucity of the photograph or film can enhance its capacity to generate legend by giving us enough but nothing too definite.
[Slide: Chris Burden, photographic and textual documentation of Trans-fixed, 1974]
In Chris Burden’s performance documentation, for instance, there is deliberate explanatory gap between the text and the image, which allows the viewer to co-create an ‘excess of meaning’.
[Slide: Hans Namuth, Jackson Pollock Painting, 1951]
Discussing Hans Namuth’s photographs of Jackson Pollock, Fred Orton and Griselda Pollock ask: how far does the photographer document what happened and how far does he or she create the ‘documented’ phenomenon? Photographs, they argue, produce meanings that are ‘contingent on the spectator’s interests’. Namuth’s photographs of Pollock painting cannot be interpreted simply as historical documents. They are Namuth and Pollock staging Pollock.
In the 1980s there was a trend to document everything in a rather wholesale fashion and this still continues to some extent. Cameras whirring and beeping and flashes popping are familiar accompaniments to live performances. Shelves of unedited and sometimes unviewed video tape of performances stretch into the far distance.
Sites and Presentation Modes
Turning now to think about the sites and presentation modes of moving image work. I recently interviewed Phelim McDermott from Improbable theatre company who suggested that site based work is still at a novelty stage:
‘The thing about site specific work is it puts the audience in a particular relationship to how they respond to the work and how they interact. Relationships to time changes, relationships to themselves in the space changes. People are only just beginning to address what that could be. I still feel we are at the novelty stage with site specific stuff. There’s a buzz from not being in the theatre: thank god we’re not sitting in a seat facing the same way with lots of other people and I can’t get out. But that’s only the start of that conversation.’
Visual art based work with sites is perhaps of a longer provenance but is still not necessarily at a more sophisticated place. A lot of sited work is still achieving merely a facile spectacularity. Some so-called site-based work could actually be put back into a white cube gallery space. Site-specific curatorial practice can sometimes merely turn off-site spaces into white cubes and unofficial galleries rather than using the material of the site in the work which is what site-specific work actually should be. A site is part of the work not merely the location or backdrop for its presentation.
[Slides: Rebecca Egeling, Untitled, 2007]
The issue of whether or not to physically take your audience to a site and the impacts that that will have as opposed to showing them a sited performance on film need to be carefully thought through by artists and curators.
[Slide: Mauricio Dias and Walter Riedweg, Funkstaden, 2007 in Documenta at Schloss Wilhelmshohe]
Large survey exhibitions, such as Documenta and the Venice Biennale are particularly guilty of facile ‘siting’. Curatorial practice is still often not careful enough about the differences between showing screen based work in a cinema or in a gallery. Whether the audience is sitting down, immersed and separated in the dark for a durational piece, or wandering with other audience members past video installations, in a gallery, still gesturing at a tradition of viewing paintings hanging on walls, will substantially shift the experience of the viewer. Griselda Pollock and Alison Rowley critiqued Documenta for being like an emporium or mall, presenting miles of ubiquitious video installations in darkened galleries, for audiences forced to amble past like window shoppers (Pollock & Rowley, 2005). There were many good screen works shown in the Venice Biennale 2005 in the Arsenale when I visited, but little regard had been paid to the sound leakage between them.
[Slides: Danica Dakic, El Dorado, 2007 in Documenta at Schloss Wilhelmshohe]
But the siting, for instance, of Mauricio Dias and Walter Riedweg’s, Funkstaden, and Danica Dakic’s, El Dorado at the recent Documenta was resonant. They were shown in Schloss Wilhelmshohe in Kassel alongside an old masters collection including paintings by Rubens and Rembrandt. The two contemporary screen works, in very different ways, were both considering issues of civilization, the other and inclusion. Their siting in a venue akin to the National Gallery, a bastion of Western civilization, augmented the effective presentation of their themes.
How is our response to performance affected by differing modes of proximity – as viewers of live performances, or as viewers of photographic documents and on screen images? What are the different qualities of different media and modes of audience reception?
The fragility of the body is often strongly communicated in live acts.
[Slide: Oleg Kulik, Armadillo For Your Show, 2003]
In 2003 Oleg Kulik presented Armadillo For Your Show in the Tate Modern Turbine Hall as part of the Live Culture exhibition. For an hour Kulik was suspended above the audience’s heads in a rotating metal ball covered from head to foot to penis in tiny mirror shards. He was a human mirror ball accompanied by a live DJ mix of sacred and trance music. He held a pose on tiptoe throughout and quite possibly was unable to move much at all in his rigid, spangly armature. I became increasingly aware of the pain I imagined he had in his calves and other muscles as the performance progressed.
Witnessing live acts we are complicit. Kathy O’Dell describes a contract between audience and artist – a consensual and complicit viewing – an empathy evoked by ‘the shared ontology of the body’ (1998). We cannot watch a live act impassively.
[Slide: Gina Pane, Discours Mou et Mat, 1975]
In one of Pane’s performances an audience member shouted ‘No! Not the face!’ as she raised a razorblade to her cheek (Discours Mou et Mat, 1975). Some artists deliberately work with the possibility of audience intervention and give their audience responsibility for the body of the artist. By presenting their bodies as the fragile objects that they are the artists make the audience responsible for them and emphasise the humane interconnection between people. In live performances the audience members are themselves performing.
The acts of empathy and complicity with photographs and screen images are different. Now we are aware of looking at an object constructed with light rather than sharing space with another visceral human being. Empathy summoned by a photograph can be more concentrated because there is no distraction from the environment or the embarrassment of being in a group and wondering how to respond but you also cannot intervene in a photograph or film. There is a distance, detachment, voyeurism and empathy all at the same time.
What might be the difference between watching the eye-slitting scene in Bunuel’s film Un Chien Andalou (1930) and actually seeing it done?
[Slide: Gina Pane, Escalade, 1971]
Or of looking at a photograph of Pane climbing a razor-sharp ladder with bare hands and feet in Escalade (1971) and actually being in the space with her when she did it? We might still have a gut reaction to a photograph, but we don’t have to respond publicly. We don’t have to feel we are in any way responsible for what we are looking at. As a live audience we are more likely to respond with a corporeal response, a reading below and before language, whereas we are already in interpretation mode in looking at a photograph or film. We can also believe that what we are looking at might be fictional.
How disembodied or not is the viewer of performance? Sexual desire, for instance, can be valid as part of a response to an artwork and this has only been addressed so far by a few critics such as Peggy Phelan and Amelia Jones.
‘My relationship to masculinity as a feminist but also as a heterosexual, is one of ambivalence itself. I have a critical disdain for certain of its aspects, but a flagrant and irrepressible desire for others’ (Jones, 1994: 584).
Mark Raidpere and Phil Collins are examples of artists who are working critically with the gaps in empathy and the complex of subject/viewer positions created by performance on screen.
[Slide: Mark Raidpere, Voices, 2004]
Raidpere’s Voices (2004) is a split screen work. On a large video projection on a wall Raidpere’s father is talking candidly to camera in Estonian about his schizophrenia, his relationship with his son and his distress at his son’s homosexuality. At the same time an image of the artist/son is shown on a small video monitor on the floor. The artist is dispassionately translating his father’s distressing monologue into English.
[Slide: Mark Raidpere, Ten Men, 2003]
In Ten Men (2003) Raidpere shot a video showing ten men serving life sentences in an Estonian prison. We don’t know what their crimes were. We don’t know if they are murderers or rapists. We don’t hear them speak. The sound track is a sentimental tune of the sort used in a ballerina music box which is a discordant contrast with the images of these tattooed, muscled, shaven-headed criminals. The men appear one at a time and seem to be posing for a stills camera. We can see them listening to the instructions of the photographer, posing to show off their tattoos and then we see the flash of the stills camera. But this is not the work we are looking at. We see instead the durational video and their haunted, uncertain eyes caught in between the photo takes. We see their vulnerable, caged, hopeless humanity and we feel pity.
[Slide: Phil Collins, How to Make a Refugee (1999)]
In the video work How to Make a Refugee (1999) Collins, is part of a group of news photographers doing a photo shoot with a family from Kosovo. The teenage boy is talking about his bullet wounds. The photographers ask him to raise his t-shirt and show these wounds. As he does so, Collins has captured the look of humiliation, shame, exposure in the boy’s eyes and made us aware of the news photographers’ exploitative position as they treat the boy’s trauma as a photo opportunity for consumption in the tabloids. Collins is both distinct from those photographers in his awareness and implicated along with them.
On screen all bodies become avatars. An avatar does not have to be a graphic. Screen images of people separate the image from the real life source. Carol Brown describes vision as ‘our most objectifying and distancing sense’ (2006: 94).
The screen has a tendency to enable a prurient, exploitative gaze. The increasing all-pervasiveness of mediated culture has eroded the power of the body to evoke and experience empathy. Through seeing other bodies as ‘other’ we can divest ourselves of our humanity in relation to them. Many performance artists working live and on screen employ confrontational strategies to rupture this distanced complacency and work to bring the ‘other’ body right back into our laps.
Philip Auslander claims that ‘Indifference to the distinction between real and fictional is central to the digital’ (Auslander in Broadhurst & Machon, 2006: 196). If that is the case, how then does that impact on our values?
Participants and Ethics
A lot of visual art moving image work uses the self, as this is in a long tradition of using the self and your own body as material, subject, site, which is charted in my book The Artist’s Body. But there is also an increasing area of visual art practice using real-life participants in moving image work as opposed to actors/performers. The Double Agent exhibition currently at the ICA addresses this work and I am curating a programme of films at the Nunnery in London in June also on this theme.
The notion of screen avatars is perhaps useful when considering filmmakers’ work with participants and hybrid docu-fiction work that is examining the fine lines between documentary and fantasy, ethnography and exploitation.
What ethical criteria might we try to apply to this work? Does it do good for the participants? Is it exploitative? Is it a good piece of work? It is possible to use a participant’s image in a non-specific way and make a work that effectively, but generically or abstractly, addresses the issues experienced by the subject.
[Slides: Mauricio Dias and Walter Riedweg’s Voracidad Maxima, 2003]
In Dias and Riedweg’s Voracidad Maxima (2003) the artists interviewed male sex workers and appeared in bathrobes on screen themselves evading the position of omniscient and invisible director. The sex workers wore rubber masks based on the artists’ faces. The masks had a complex effect of protecting their identity, implying their shared humanity with the artists, but also dehumanised them and made them grotesque.
[Slides: Artur Zmijewski, Them, 2007]
In Artur Zmijewski’s work, Them (2007), he has organised and filmed a workshop with four conflicting groups in Poland: elderly Catholic women, young Jews, the Polish equivalent of the National Front and a group of young communists. Here the artist has edited out his own role but we remain very conscious that the participants in his workshop – far from developing better understanding of each other are actually set up by the workshop design to entrench their confrontational positions. This is the act of the artist – but it has been edited out of the film as if it simply happened without his intervention.
[Slides: Phil Collins, They Shoot Horses (2004)]
In Collins’ They Shoot Horses (2004) the artists has paid a number of Palestinian teenagers to participate in a disco marathon which he filmed against a candy coloured wall. This was, he says, a way of showing something about Palestine differing from the recurring media images of suicide bombers and rock hurling children. The pink wallpaper appears as a parody of a police line-up of the usual suspects.
Several artists knowingly reveal the economic transactions that underlie performances – whether that is a paying audience or a photographic or video work where the artist is paying the subject. What is the artist’s responsibility to their subject?
In these 30 minutes I have had to rattle through, and could merely open up some of the questions around performance on screen that I hope we can all continue to examine.
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Burden, Chris (1975) Chris Burden: Documentation of Selected Works 1971-74, Video compilation, 35 mins, b&w and col, New York: Electronic Arts Intermix.
Collins, Phil (2005) Yeah – You, Baby You, Milton Keynes: Milton Keynes Gallery.
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Dakic, Danica http://www.danicadakic.com
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Export, Valie & Justesen, Kirsten (1996) Kroppen Som Membran/Body As Membrane, Odense: Kunsthalle Brandts Klaedefabrik.
George, Adrian ed. (2003) Art, Lies and Videotape, Liverpool: Tate.
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Higgins, Dick (1966) ‘Intermedia’, reprinted in Armstrong, Elizabeth & Rothfuss, Joan eds. (1993) In the Spirit of Fluxus, Minneapolis: Walker Art Gallery, pp. 172.
Jones, Amelia (1994) ‘Dis/playing the Phallus: Male Artists Perform their Masculinities’, Art History, 17 (4), December, pp. 546-84.
O’Dell, Kathy (1998) Contract with the Skin, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Orton, Fred & Pollock, Griselda (1996) ‘Jackson Pollock, Painting and the Myth of Photography’, in idem, Avant-Gardes and Partisans Reviewed, Manchester, Manchester University Press, pp. 165-76. Originally published in Art History, vol. 6, no. 1, March 1983.
Pollock, Griselda & Rowley, Alison (2005) ‘Feminism, Art and History: Then and Now – Responding to Documenta 11’. Paper delivered at the launch of the Interface Research Centre, Belfast on 23 November. Published online at http://www.leeds.ac.uk/cath/publishing/progress.html
Raidpere, Mark (2005) Isolator, Tallinn: Center for Contemporary Arts.
Sharp, Willoughby (1970) ‘Body Works’, Avalanche (Fall): 14-17.
Simon, J. (1995) ‘Scenes and Variations: An Interview with Joan Jonas’, Art in America, July, pp. 72-79 & pp. 100-101.
Warr, Tracey (2008) ‘Conversations on Collaboration: Interviews with Phelim McDermott and with Heather Ackroyd & Dan Harvey’, Doubt Guardian, in press.
Warr, Tracey ed. (2000) The Artist’s Body, London: Phaidon.