This past weekend my friends and I went into the city to see the Tim Burton exhibit at the MoMA ( Museum of Modern Art). While the exhibit was all I had hoped it would be, it was not the show stopper of the day. There was another exhibit that seemed to haunt me long after we had left the museum and started downing three dollar margaritas at Mother Burger ( at the corner of 49th and 9th, go check it out!). The exhibit was titled The Artist is Present, brought to you by the apparently “prolific”, Marina Abramović . I didn’t know much about the exhibit ( except that there were live nude models being used for some of the pieces), but from what I had heard about it, it didn’t really seem like something I would be into viewing. After getting a taste of the exhibit on my way up to the Tim Burton section, I was POSITIVE I would not be interested in viewing the rest of it.
As we were making our way up to the fifth floor, we realized there was a “performance” of sorts going on in one of the entryways. Spectators were watching a stoic looking woman draped in a plush crimson robe, sitting in a chair in front of a table. On the opposite side of the table was another woman dressed in everyday clothing staring back at her. That’s it.
As it turns out, the woman in the robe was Marina Abramović and the other woman was a fellow museum patron who had signed up to be apart of the “interactive” performance piece. I remember standing there for a moment, watching these two have a staring contest and I felt this overwhelming sense of irritation ( possibly anger?) because I just didn’t “get” it. Which made me feel stupid, especially when I glanced around to see other spectators sketching, writing, and discussing what they were viewing in hushed tones. I felt like some very obvious message had just flown over my head. I had the sudden urge to jump on that table, yank Marina by her braid and scream at her, ” WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?”. I wanted to slap her sullen face and tell her to stop taking herself so seriously. I wanted to know what made her sitting in a chair so fucking brilliant. If I were to sit in a chair all day, the only response I would get would be a kick in the ass and a yell to get back to work. As I stood there, watching this thing that was clearly beyond my comprehension, I was reminded of the ” Tampons in teacups” scene from Ghost World. This only irritated me more.
Later on, after we had seen the Tim Burton section, we came across the entrance of Marina’s exhibit. My friend’s and boyfriend, having their curiosity piqued decided to check it out. I chose to stay behind. And no, it had nothing to do with the use of nude models. I have no problem with that. What I did, and do have a problem with is not understanding what the fuck is going on. There is nothing that I hate more, than feeling stupid. Now, most people would say, the only way to understand something is to experience it, to investigate it. 99% of the time that is true. But not this time, at least not for me. I knew if I stepped through that entryway, I would be confronted by various forms of “staring contests” that I just wouldn’t “get”. As it turns out, I was right.
When my boyfriend came out, he asked me to step over to the entryway, where a television screen was displayed. On the screen was a video of Marina violently combing her hair. I’m sorry, but for lack of a better response, all I could think of was WHAT THE FUCK?!. What is so “artistic” about watching someone bash their head in with a comb? It’s nothing that I couldn’t do,( god know’s I already have pulled masochistic shit like that…)
My boyfriend will argue that that’s precisely the point. That it’s art because the artist made it so and that everyone is an artist whether they know it or not. Call me narrow-minded in the world of creativity, but I need to be able to wrap my head around it in order to enjoy it as artistic expression. Now, I am aware that this is merely my opinion and I have no authority over anything when it comes to the art world. Marina Abramović is an artist because she says she is, her work just happens to make me feel so offensively simple-minded that my only reaction to it is to get angry. Because goddamn it, I’m not an idiot, why the fuck can’t I “get” it?
Perhaps that was Marina Abramovic’s point all along. Art is meant to evoke a response right? My response was to feel angry and frustrated. The artist was present whether I wanted her to be or not. My anger altered the experience of the art, thus making me part of the art, thus making me the artist as well. Perhaps I was more present than I realized.
It still irritated the fuck out of me.
