The Royal Academy show dedicated to the performance artist Marina Abramovic has attracted many prurient headlines, because of the live nude performances by the artist’s young surrogates, replicating original performances by Marina herself. She, being 77 years of age, has retired from that category of her work, more likely because of its physical intensity then for prudish reasons.
The centrepiece, if that's the right word, of the nude displays is the one that directly engages the visitors. Between two of the Royal Academy's galleries a narrow-ish portal has been constructed, about a metre deep. At various times during the day a naked woman stands within on one side and a naked man on the other, their gazes locked together. if you so wish you may shuffle between them (there's a bypass for the squeamish or uninterested). For a second or two you become the third person in the performance.
the gap between the two naked Sentinels is narrow. A skinny person, lightly clothed, could perhaps slip through without touching…not so the stouter visitor, of which there were a few.
I found the experience somewhat panic making, similar to that when one tries to board a crowded train and has to push between tightly packed standing passengers. My eyes were fixed on the floor beyond, unseeing of the actors. At the same time my head was full of the thought “do not wobble”. I do not know whether or not whether or where I brushed anything; but it seems that the actor’s toes are particularly vulnerable.
the performances were not continuous, apart from one of the three on offer. this is the enactment of a rather blunt visual metaphor. A naked woman lies on a slab, holding against her body a skeleton (bare skin and bare bones…you get the point). There is no movement apart from her deep breaths.
Shortly after my shaky adventure in the portal I was asked to make way for a strange procession. three people clad in white medical -style gowns, one holding a small skeleton, were coming through the gallery. A little later it became apparent what was going on, when another group came the other way, with another skeleton. They went up to the empty plinth. One of the three disrobed and climbed up, settling on her back. Her two companions then carefully arranged the skeleton on her body (on its back as well). She took the bony hands in hers and started her shift.
The Exhibition has mostly attracted high praise. There has been at least one dissenting voice. The recreated performances, the critic said, are essentially pastiches of the original. Missing is the intensity of the commitment ,both in time and emotion,of Marina herself in the original performances.
When Marina is replaced by proxies on a rota, there is perhaps too much titivation instead of unsettling engagement between artist and audience. Her proxies are not Marina. This is especially true of the third nude performance (which I did not see): a woman sits astride a bicycle seat, fixed high up a wall, her arms and legs splayed and her weight carried by her crotch. Marina says that a meditative trance helped overcome the pain of the position for her. One wonders whether that’s true of the half-hour surrogates (they do have bracing points for their limbs if necessary).
I saw spectators assembling in anticipation of the next mounting. Later, I thought, is this not like watching some medieval wretch put in the stocks?
December 2023
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