For the first time ever the Royal Academy of Art is exhibiting the works of a female artist, Marina Abramović. This new retrospective exhibition of her work produced over the last 50 years includes some of her most daring pieces of performance art. In this current setting the exhibits are contemporary representations of her original work, some just films of the originals and some live performances acted out by women volunteers who are understudies trained by Abramović in her inimitable methodology.
The works shown include the very controversial and unique performance of Rhythm 0 from 1974 and perhaps the equally dramatic Rest Energy 1980 performed with her long term partner Ulay. A more calm and almost soporific piece is The artist is present originally from 2010. In each of the original performances Marina was the subject of scrutiny, and everything relied on her to survive, withstand and endure the activities taking place around her. She uses her body as the subject of her work as well as the medium by which she directly and personally engages with her audience to create it.
The current exhibition is an overview of her practice, and organized thematically to highlight the importance of public participation in her work which pushes the boundaries of performance art to sometimes extreme limits. This is perhaps the last opportunity to observe the wide range of Abramovic’s live performances and to experience for yourself the impressive impact her works have had over the last half century.
In Rhythm 0 the audience is invited to choose one of 72 objects lying on a table to use on Abramovic in any manner they wish over a period of six hours, while she stands motionless (the table is reproduced in the current exhibition while a film of what happened during the original performance is played in the background). Initially the people in the audience chose innocuous items from the table in which to apply to Abramovic, but perversely they became more and more cruel in their use of the artifacts at their disposal, culminating in the pointing of a loaded gun at Marina’s head. She wanted to see how far people would go in this scene since they were the ones responsible for their actions in this active performance, and not the passive
artist. She gave clear instructions, and these were:
“Instructions.
There are 72 objects on the table that one can use on me as desired.
Performance
I am the object.
During this period I shall take full responsibility.”
The big question remains why the audience were increasingly acting more cruelly towards her, using implements from the table some of which were potentially dangerous – a knife, razor blades, hammer with which to physically attack her, even though she was evidently in great distress during the performance. The film shows predominantly men playing with the objects, touching Abramović’s body, ogling and laughing at her with their friends, as she stands there alone, tears filling her eyes. A few others were kind, wiping away her tears and objecting to the bad behaviour of other participants. Indeed, those who were behaving badly fled the scene when Marina regained control as an active agent at the end of the performance.
Perhaps ‘I am the object’ took away the moral responsibility of the audience, absolved them of their appalling behaviour, and this acquittal was endorsed by the implication that there would be no consequences for any of their actions? Does civilized behaviour disintegrate if there are no consequences for repugnant behaviour? Or was it an expression of people just obeying instructions without moral objections such as in the famous Stanley Milgram experiment of 1961 where pain was inflicted on an actor who gave incorrect answers to questions asked? The latter demonstrated that humans are conditioned to obey authority and will usually do so even if it is against their own moral judgement or even common sense.
From a feminist perspective Rhythm 0 does show a female body being objectified and commodified as a piece of art, but could this attitude be equated to society as a whole today as an indication of the danger that women still face when exposed to male group dynamics? Rhythm 0 reminds us of the hostility women still face in today’s societies: the constant threat of violence and danger, and the abuse of women’s bodies by the powerful. On witnessing the table, one has a visceral sense of what she put herself through; just imagine the terror of having your body violated. By using the body as her medium, Abramović shows just how close art can get to real life and as spectators of her work, we are also implicated in the reality of what people endure. Rhythm 0 is a shattering reminder of women who live in fear of abuse daily.
Tense and disturbing in another context is Rest energy in which Marina collaborated with her long standing partner of 12 years, the German artist Ulay. In Rest energy Marina and Ulay grip a taut bow with an arrow aimed precisely at Abramovic’s heart. Their racing heartbeats were recorded and amplified and so recorded the fear which they were both experiencing. It lasted a little over four minutes but feels like forever for the observers and probably the two participants. The emotional anticipation of the scene is intense; any slip or lack of concentration could have been fatal for either or both artists. This performance is an expression of total trust and vulnerability that can exist between the two people; it fused male and female duality into an entity they called ‘That self’.
In another poignant piece, The Lovers, Great Wall Walk showed Abramovic and Ulay walk towards each other from the east and west end of the great wall of China, pausing briefly with an encounter in the middle of the wall, before going on their separate ways in different directions. A metaphor for a brief encounter which some of us experience when we connect fleetingly with someone out of context with our normal lives, our hearts skip a beat and as we go our separate ways again, we ask ourselves ‘could that have been THE one?’
Equally interesting is The artist is present. Marina Abramović sat for eight hours a day over a period of three months facing any stranger who might sit down opposite her; she maintained her gaze while the audience relinquished theirs after various periods of time. This is an example of durational art that can form a unique bond between artist as performer and a stranger. Many thousands of visitors could not tear themselves away from her captivating gaze, although eventually all succumbed to a distraction or just the need to go elsewhere.
Marina Abramović’s capacity for self-discipline and endurance in the majority of her works probably originates from her upbringing. In the absence of her parents, her early years were spent with her grandmother in an Orthodox Christian environment where self-control and discipline were the order of the day, and this may have left an indelible impact on her personality.
Eventually when her tyrannical parents did return from military conflicts to rear her, they inflicted a strict household regime, and her life was dictated by a scheduled, timed routine. Rebelling against this childhood experience perhaps, she has since pushed all the boundaries in her works of art, each appositely timed strictly to the clock.
‘Marina Abramović’ is on at The Royal Academy of Art, Main Galleries, Burlington House, London from the 23rd of September to 1st of January 2024.
‘The exhibition presents notable moments through sculpture, video, photography, archive material, installation and performance. in her amazing 50 year career although still a very small sample of her oeuvre.’
Ian Smith | November 2023 | Issue 1
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