The other day I watched a documentary on the performance artist, Marina Abramovic. It covered the retrospective of her art at the Museum of Modern Art with about 50 pieces of her work, some "re-performanced" by other artists on one floor and a new piece, performed by the artist, on another. While performance art isn't something I really dig, and her some of her work in particular is very strange, I was so moved by her new piece: The Artist Is Present.
In this piece, she sat in a chair at a table opposite an empty chair. She sat there for 6 days a week for every minute the museum was open. 7 hours a day. For 3 months. Without moving.
The public was invited to sit opposite her. Marina looked down until she felt the patron was seated, then looked up and locked eyes with the person. They sat across from each other in silence. Marina just stared at them, trying to look into their soul. Concentrating just on them.
For 2 months she did this with a table in the middle. For the last month she felt that she could remove the table and just sit with no barriers. Completely vulnerable.
At times the person sitting across from her would cry, at times Marina would silently cry. For someone to just sit, with no distractions, and just PAY ATTENTION to you is disconcerting. For some, it seemed as if no one had looked at them, REALLY looked for quite some time.
No retrospective of Marina's work would be complete without sharing the intense love story between Marina and Ulay, which began in the 70's. They performed art out of the van they lived in. When they felt the relationship had run its course, they decided to walk the Great Wall of China, each from one end, meeting for one last big hug in the middle and never seeing each other again. At her show, Ulay arrived and this is what happened:
1 comment:
I don't know what made you watch this documentary, but the 3 minutes I saw were incredible. Very moving.
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