pussy riot : a punk prayer

"Art is not a mirror to reflect reality, but a hammer with which to shape it."  -Bertolt Brecht


I went and saw a documentary at MIFF recently about Russian punk-feminist group Pussy Riot. It was awesome and inspiring. 
So just as some background, Pussy Riot formed as a response to Vladimir Putin's re-election in 2011 and is composed of around eleven women who wear fluorescent balaclavas and refer to one another in nicknames to maintain anonymity. They are based in Moscow and create guerrilla performances in public spaces that protest against conservative and misogynistic ideology. Their lyrics focus on the fusion of church and State, describing Vladimir Putin as a dictator, as well as on pressure faced by young women to have children and behave subserviently. One of the things I found enjoyable about their performances is that they have a playful, trickster edge, while still giving a powerful message of hope, liberation and pushing back against authority. 





"Pussy Riot's performances can either be called dissident art or political action that engages art forms. Either way, our performances are a kind of civic activity amidst the repressions of a corporate political system that directs its power against basic human rights and civil and political liberties."  

The documentary focused most particularly on the period after their highly publicised arrest in 2012. The performance that led to the arrest and trial of three members of Pussy Riot took place at the Cathedral of Christ the Savior and involved them walking up the steps leading to the alter, dancing and beginning their song 'Mother of God, Drive Putin Away,' which included lyrics that criticised the churches role in oppressing women and alluded to links between the Orthodox Church and the KGB. A previous performance of the song can be found here. They were escorted from the church by guards after less than a minute and the church called on the government to criminalize blasphemy. Within a few days, three members of the group were arrested and charged with 'hooliganism.' 





The details of the trial were curious, and a media circus quickly grew around it. International attention turned towards the case, with protests held worldwide, and international artists such as Madonna, Die Antword and Bjork pledging their support. It was kind of pleasing to hear that through all the commodification of the 'cause' of Pussy Riot, that they remained ambivalent of the attention stating:

“We’re flattered, of course, that Madonna and Björk have offered to perform with us. But the only performances we’ll participate in are illegal ones. We refuse to perform as part of the capitalist system, at concerts where they sell tickets.”





One of the things that I found most interesting about the film was the way that it went into each girls upbringing and background in activism and art. Maria Alyokhina (left) had a history in environmental activism and studied at the Institute of Journalism and Creative. She spoke beautifully and eloquently during the trial:

“For me, this trial only has the status of a ‘so-called’ trial. And I am not afraid of you. I am not afraid of lies and fiction, of the thinly disguised fraud in the sentence of this so-called court. Because you can only take away my so-called freedom. And that is the exact kind that exists now in Russia. But nobody can take away my inner freedom.”

Nadezhda Tolokonnikova and Yekaterina Samutsevich (middle and right) were previously members of public performance group Voina and were involved in a protest that I really loved in which they went into public places and grabbed and kissed female police officers on duty on the streets and on trains. There were a few grainy videos of this piece, and it seemed like such an aggressive and spontaneous action. The police officers seemed so surprised and confused, it was beautiful.




I suppose the only thing that pissed me off about the documentary over all was the conversations that I overheard in the bathroom queue afterwards. I listened to two ladies bemoaning what tough places Russia and China would be to live, how these countries are backward, restrictive and have no freedom of speech. They comforted themselves by mentioning how lucky we are to live in Australia (and they really couldn't have sounded more smug about it).
This really made my blood boil. 
Do films (and film festivals) like this exist simply to validate people's feeling of self-satisfaction and superiority? As though in our current political climate, in which our politicians implement racist and cruel refugee policy, things are all perfect. People are still arrested for protesting in Australia. There is still sexism, violence against women, homophobia and blatant racism. Not that I don't think it's right to feel grateful for the food, shelter and love that I have in my life. But I really don't think it was the goal of Pussy Riot to reaffirm people's sense of comfort in their position in their respective societies. They are a voice for mobilising, thinking and making change to the things that are wrong and unjust. 

At any rate, was an interesting film, but going to MIFF makes me feel like I'm drowning in smug.

goldene bend'er : mikala dwyer : acca

Just a few quick words on an exhibition currently on at ACCA that has ritualistic, abject elements that I found interesting. Goldene Bend'er is a work by Mikala Dwyer, that spans over three rooms at ACCA, with an installation, a performative video, costumes hanging on the wall and a series of large scale sculptures. 

The video depicts a circle of people shrouded and hooded in golden KKK-esque robes dancing, swaying and waving their arms in unison. It's like witnessing an odd, anonymous celebration. There is a ring of clear perspex cylinders that they move around, which also appear on the ground in front of the projected video. At a certain point the group (of around six figures) each seat themselves on one of the cylinders. The sound, not so noticeable before moves towards a groaning, humming crescendo; the figures squat, their forearms held forward, their hands making jerky 'jazz hand' movements; as they each take a shit, into the plastic cylinders. Their anuses are not visible, under the cloaks, but the shit can be seen clearly as it falls and plops slowly from each figure into the 'toilets' below. 



It's a sinister, but comical ritual. It reminds of the moment in childhood development where a child is proud that they've managed to use the toilet for the first time and are gleeful about their shit. A moment usually private, turned into a funny, scary, brightly colored ritual. The sound accompanying the video was similar to that at the end of the film Rosemary's Baby, when Rosemary has discovered that her neighbors are Satanists conspiring against her, all kind of guttural and droning.

The wall opposite the video was hung with the costumes that the figures wear.




In the next room are several sculptures; large warped ring shapes that are rendered in glossy silver and gold. Beside them sit smaller golden objects, blobby vessels and figures. I found the video work the most interesting element, and couldn't entirely get into the relation between that and the sculptures.....but hey, maybe I was just being stubborn.
I attended a talk about this exhibition. It mostly focused on the way we figure shitting to be a private activity and endeavor to separate ourselves from feces, decay and disease.
There were also references to alchemy and the idea of 'turning shit to gold.'



ACCA
111 Sturt Street
Southbank
https://www.accaonline.org.au/

feed room : thoughts

I've been pondering some of the strange thoughts I had during the Feed Room performance and the behaviors that you all witnessed and have been trying to figure out how to describe my experience. I guess I could begin by saying that I went into it with limited expectations, I hoped it would be experimental in nature. However I thought it would be an artwork about what it means to be imprisoned. About how surveillance works on the individual. I also thought the isolation might be enlightening....and contemplative.
I think it was all of these things to some degree. 
But some of the thoughts that crossed my mind surprised me. And I found it much more difficult than I expected. In fact I think it's probably the hardest performances I've ever done.


Day 1      10:00am
At the very beginning when I settled into the room I felt fairly calm. It seemed an opportunity to collect my thoughts, think about particular plans I had for the next few months and further into the future. From where I was I could see a sliver of window behind a curtain and therefore see when the sun rose and set. I could also faintly hear the activities, TV watching and muffled conversation of the owner of the gallery, who lived upstairs. Once the sun went down I began to panic. It became very very cold, and I calculated that I still had at least 48 hours to spend in the room and it already felt like I'd been there for ages. I paced around a lot, walked in circles, tried to break down numbers into smaller increments of time that made sense. Where at first I'd thought this would be a scenario I'd have some degree of control over, I began to feel that it was   entirely unpredictable. Without surrounding people or objects, without context, was I entirely unsubstantial? I found it difficult to sleep because of the cold, uncomfortable floor and curled myself up completely under the blanket. Every time I'd nod off I would wake up feverishly within a short time, and it felt like the night lasted forever. Sometime around when the sun came up I slept and had a dream in which I was on a beach covered with tiger snakes. I grabbed one by the head, and killed it by sinking my fingernails through its head.






Day 2
Waking up I felt, at first refreshed. I thought for some time about people who lived for long periods in prison, or in institutions. Where everyday they would wake up and see walls that didn't belong to them. I began to daydream about food, meals I'd eaten and meals that I wanted to eat. In the afternoon I fell asleep heavily and slept for what felt like a while. During this time I dreamt of eating soft boiled eggs and toast with honey on it. I spent a lot of time staring into space, staring at the walls and the floor. I felt agitated, impatient and depressed. The room smelt more and more of urine because of the fact that I'd been pissing in a bucket and gotten some on my clothing. Noticing there was a brick loose in the wall, I pulled it out and placed it in the middle of the room. Sometimes when I glanced at it, it seemed to have features, or be alive. As it got later I became more and more hungry and it was difficult to focus on anything other than food. I struggled to fall asleep because of intense stomach cramps, but when I finally did, I slept longer and deeper than the night before. I dreamt that I was in the apartment of Holly Golightly (Audrey Hepburn) in the film Breakfast at Tiffany's. She was wearing a trench coat, my mother was there too and a man that I didn't recognise. We were drinking champagne, smoking cigarettes and enjoying ourselves.





Day 3
I woke up feeling somewhat better. My stomach no longer hurt. Occasionally I got the impression that I would faint, the air in front of my eyes was crackly. I felt more meditative and calm than the previous day. I realised that when I sat beneath one of the light globes on the ceiling that it would reflect in the glass of water I was holding. I began pouring pools of water onto the floor and the light globe reflected in them looking somewhat like the moon reflected in a lake. I stared at this for a long time and it was soothing. I lay down under the blanket for a while. It felt like a pink, soothing sanctuary. A womb. I began to think of leaving the room which made me feel relieved but also anxious. When it began to grow dimmer outside, I decided the performance was over, got up and turned the webcam off. It was 4:30pm.








Many thanks to Jason of The Owl and the Pussycat Gallery in Richmond for allowing me to undertake this work there, as well as to all of you who watched online.

feed room II

Feed Room
Live stream by Ustream

feed room

Feed Room is happening this week!! from Sunday through to Wednesday night at The Owl and the Pussycat Gallery in Richmond.

Feed Room is an online and on air work in which I will live in a gallery space continuously for a number of days with the footage streamed to this blog and to a series of TVs in the front window of the gallery. I'll be getting isolated, staying up late and testing my mind and body.

The address is 34 Swan Street, Richmond if you happen to be walking by. 
I'll post the video link on here tomorrow if you have a moment to watch over the coming days.

xo

BACKFLIP: feminism and humour in contemporary art

I went along to the opening of BACKFLIP: Feminism and Humour in Contemporary Art at Margaret Lawrence at the VCA Gallery last Friday. The opening was PACKED as they always are at the VCA, the wine was plentiful and the art was interesting. There was a real buzz in the air; I felt like the artwork had presence, atmosphere....humour. It was a really well put together, considered collection of work, with an enjoyable balance between performance, video, installation and photographic work.

The show was curated by Laura Castagnini around the idea of humour and wit in feminist art and included work by a number of Australian and international artists. Some of my favorite works were performative, such as Flowing Locks, 2007 by Hannah Raisin. In this video Hannah appears in a lycra suit that has had holes cut at the crotch and armpits. Through these holes protrude absurdly long hair extensions which dance in the breeze as she performs graceful balletic movements. It's a really funny work. 

Besides; is it truly more absurd to attach long silky pube-xtensions than it is to meticulously rip out all your crotch hair with molten wax? I wonder what the market out there is like for pube-wigs? (aka merkins)  And what if your pubes and armpit hairs really could grow that long of their own accord... ?

At any rate, I find it an interesting and funny image of womanhood. Hannah Raisin's art is always engaging and inspiring. I recommend looking at more of it here.



Another performance work I thought was great was Melons (At a Loss) 1998 by Patty Chang. In this work the artist slices through one cup of an oversized brassiere, revealing a now halved melon, which the artist has tied in front of her body as a surrogate breast. She then gradually scoops out the melon with her hand and piles the seeds onto a plate balanced on her head. Eating the melon’s flesh, she tells the story of a relative of hers who died of breast cancer.

Friendship Is.. an installation work by Melbourne duo Nat&Ali was very dynamic, kitsch and beautiful. A pond was installed in the space surrounded by white pebbles, Coolabah wine boxes and plastic plants, with two white rope swings overhanging the water. During the evening two young girls in matching pink t-shirts and blue jeans swung on the swings together creating a picture-perfect moment of girlhood friendship...... although actually there was something a bit too perfect about it...  Anyway, I liked the installation. I also enjoyed the way audience members interacted with it during the night.



A new series by Catherine Bell entitled Mum's the Word, 2011 was also very compelling.  The large scale photographs shot by Bell during a residency in New York, show black nannies caring for white babies, in public spaces around Manhattan. The artwork interested me in that it highlights issues of class and race in relation to childcare labour (which is viewed by many as mundane, unskilled work). 

"Because these women aren't the mothers, we don't feel the perdurable warmth of the archetypal bond. Instead we're witnessing an employment arrangement, where nannies are appointed from a less prosperous class to perform the love-work that the parents cannot always supply because of work-work."
-Robert Nelson review

It made me wonder about the way that women are expected to naturally excel in the role of motherhood, to have some degree of intuitive knowledge about caring for children and nurturing others in general. It seems like there is a notion that being a nanny is a job that really only a woman could perform. Though social views on motherhood have shifted since the 1950s, women who put children up for adoption, who suffer from post-natal depression, or who struggle to show love or affection for their kids are generally viewed as anomalous, mean-spirited and strange.


Such an interesting collection of art...



On until May 25th 2013
Margaret Lawrence Gallery
Victorian College of the Arts
40 Dodds Street, Southbank 3006
VIC

pupa : performance no 2

I recently did another performance of Pupa but in a rather different location. I'm not sure how I feel about the way I've used Australian landscape, but I wanted to create something in a context that I've never really used for my performances before. It also proved to be good in that the stench and rotting of the tripe didn't give rise to complaints from surrounding neighbours, because there weren't any. The 'sculpture' has been coated in varnish and is currently still hanging from the same tree I attached it to. I'm interested to see how it looks in a day or two...