The Community Carries

by Sara Muthi

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Time and space based art work carries a quality that separates it from all other work. It can only be experienced at one time, in one space and only ever by the amount of bodies the venue can take. The documentation of the work, as in the photographs that may surface after, including the texts published and conversations surrounding the event, are all just traces of something that has passed. It is not often that you can experience live art twice, but once in a while you are privileged to be faced again with the familiar atmosphere of community based art such as ALL CHOIR.

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The intention of ALL CHOIR has always been to use the commonality of music as a starting point for social engagement and discussion. While ALL CHOIR’s performance at Temple Bar Gallery + Studios back in April was successful in its goal, part two takes it further. Abandoning the comfortable and familiar setting of the gallery space, ALL CHOIR takes itself to Liberty Park, located in north Dublin’s inner city as part of the Treeline Project, created by Oonagh Young and Mary Cremin. This facilitated the perfect collaboration between a work such as ALL CHOIR whose objective is to break down barriers between the everyday and the art world, and the object of the Treeline Project, which strives for social engagement after the community was divided due to reconstruction in the area. The aim to use art to activate the social engagement of a community was beautifully complimented by each others artistic and local intentions.

As stated in the first response to ALL CHOIR, a large portion of art falls within one of two categories, art that creates dialogue with other art, and art that is in conversation with life. ALL CHOIR is a work which embeds itself into life effortlessly, and its change of scenery from the gallery to the inner city has made this ring ever more true.

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Lyrics from song “All”

Lifelike art often reimagines the media of art, but more often than not avoids specific categorization entirely, making it difficult to speak of the work as simply performance. Unlike conceptual art in which the work is carried by the concept, a broad term used to encompass much of contemporary art and performance, ALL CHOIR  is carried by the community. The community is the concept, it is the point of the work. The scheduled rehearsals were just as important for the work, and part of the work as the final event was.

The instinctual and raw nature of the vocals used by Buckeridge along with the unpolished, unprofessional voices of the singing audience concocted an aura of oneness and comfort for all involved. The simple nature of a choir in a gallery became a choir in a park, surrounded by pedestrians and locals increasingly blurred the lines between art and life. We all experience life in different degrees, in different context, at different ages, however any degree of life experience would enable you to understand and relate to the lyrics of Buckeridge. Encompassing all walks of life, the lyrics are inspired by life and simply translated to us by a keyboard, our voices and each other.

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Lyrics for the song “Together”

While live art can never be presented in the same way twice, that was not the aim of the second Dublin based ALL CHOIR event. It was simply to continue its mission, continue its vision in creating a wider community of engagement, with each other as human beings but also as creatives, individuals with their own struggles and questions, coming together in vocal harmony around life inspired lyrics.

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The ALL CHOIR, created by Mark Buckeridge, was presented as part of the Treeline Project, an arts initiative by Oonagh Young and Mary Cremin, on 5 August 2017. Images are extracts from lyrics by Mark Buckeridge.

 

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The sacrificed calf feeds from the swollen udder

by Léann Herlihy

What was my purpose?
To sit; to swaddle; to remain silent.
The elephant in the room – a woman
cradling a pail of milk to her womb.
Which one will fall to the foot of the cross,
the fifty litres of milk or sixty kilos
of woman?

I fall to the ground – a stigma;
it falls to the ground – a crime;
we both fall to the ground – a tragedy.

Assistance arrives;
two midwives from the crowd.
Their knees bend,
my legs spread.
A growing discomfort;
a ripening malaise;
out comes the fruits of my labour.

The deed is done, the doers undone.[1]
I stare around for reassurance, which is
neither met nor denied, but rather, uncertified.

– An extract from the artists notebook following the performance, The sacrificed calf feeds from the swollen udder.

The sacrificed calf feeds from the swollen udder, photo. Marcus Cassidy

The sacrificed calf feeds from the swollen udder addresses the position of the female body as a focal point of repressed histories and political desires in Ireland. The performance stemmed from the group exhibition, SANDMAN, held in the Complex, Dublin (27 July to 1 August, 2017), in accordance with STREAM. The show’s undertone was influenced by Verse 32 from the Book of Exodus in the Old Testament:

“They have made for themselves a golden calf and have worshipped it and sacrificed it […]”

I – a young Irish woman – sat, swaddling a glass pail of milk; an undeniable burden protruding from my stomach. My objective was to abstain from assistance; to carry this load in solitude, a task which became insurmountable.

The sacrificed calf feeds from the swollen udder, audience members; Jill Abbot and Ciara O' Brien, photo. Marcus Cassidy

An hour passed, when two female audience members came to my aid. Removing a refuse bag from my pocket, they held it between my legs, while I pulled the plug from the vessel’s nether side. Out chugged the contents, relieving me from my seated position; a weight lifted.

A glass pail with no capacity, I loosen the umbilical chord of what tethered me to the vessel. I now stand fully exposed – yet, free. Taking the bag of milk, I drag it in circles, building momentum as the contents slowly begins to leak out. Suddenly, I stop – am I the person left to carry this weight around?

I reach out to three men, to help lift this encumbrance over the mouth of the glass pail. With difficulty, they grasp the delicate plastic between their fingers, while I caress it’s underbelly; we share responsibility. I see the struggle in their arms, the discomfort on their faces – I withdraw my hand from the growth and thrust it forward with force, breaking the bulge’s seal. The contents drains into its former place; waiting for the cycle to commence again.

The sacrificed calf feeds from the swollen udder, photo. Marcus Cassidy.

[1] “The deed is done, the doers undone” alludes to the story of Macbeth; that both Macbeth and Lady Macbeth plotted and committed murders “the deed is done”, and subsequently became mentally tormented by their evil deeds “the doers undone”.

Photographs by Marcus Cassidy

We have no answers to your problems

by Sara Muthi

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CVTO DO FVTVRV, Manifesto print out, 2017

Wilder Being Command was a performance event that stemmed from an ambitious exhibition titled As Above, So Below. Featuring modern masters and landmark contemporary art works, the exhibition explores “how the spiritual endures in our everyday lives”.

Rather than creating a detailed report on the relationship between art and spirituality over the last hundred years, it brought the audience a selection of perspectives into art and spirituality by significant figures in both modern and contemporary art. The success of this exhibition was due to its approach in allowing for wonder and astonishment on the part of the audience, and this carried over into its accompanying performance seamlessly.

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Gareth Anton Averill, The Harvest Swarm, 2017

Golden flowing robes on bicycles, chimes echoing through the wind, emerging yellow-dressed figures performing rituals in wide open spaces and marching with a devil-masked parade were a select few of mystical moments that flooded the night. There was no hidden motive within the various performances, no agenda or recruitment that was being pushed, as is the case with many spiritually centred events. Instead, there was a communal energy as visitors lounged and communicated on picnic blankets which reinforced, according to the description of the event on IMMA’s website, “an organic connection to the earth, to the present and to one another”. Intentionally curated as a night of overlapping performances engaging the audience at different stages of astonishment and socialisation, the night took form in performances that happen around you, along with performances that  demanded to be followed, or gave instruction.  Visitors were even asked to stand lightly as to not make a dent in the historic grounds, also known as “the meadows, adjacent to the Royal Hospital Kilmainham, drawing no. 12 – 005 provision 2, that is to say the grounds of the unexcavated heritage site of St. Maniums Monastery” as repeated during one of the evening’s performance by the group Barry on site of Camping on the undertow.

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Barry, Camping on the undertow, 2017

There were few single performing bodies, apart from the of the compelling work of Isadora Epstein titled Presentation on Mesmerise (2017) and Christopher Mahon’s piece (performed by Oona Doherty) titled The Longest Arms in The History of Pugilism (2017). Overwhelmingly there was a myriad of concepts and rituals performed by groups that filled the space, creating a sense in which the absence of the single performing body was a near relief. The concept and ritual of the work Experiment in Falling by Emily Mast overcame the urge to analyse one body but appreciate a collective, ritual of people that emerged from the very audience watching. Not only that, but the communal energy that surrounds people when music wraps a group is no cheap trick, but a powerful force to gathers consciousness together.

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Emily Mast, Experiments in Falling, 2017

Wilder Being Command did not simply give a single view of spirituality in today’s ever increasing secular society, but offered a comprehensive sample of spirituality through the lens of contemporary practitioners, allowing a thirst for more. While each event acknowledged its immediate context and became borderline site-specific, every artist had an important autonomous point of view worth sharing. Although dealing with spiritual subject matter, no answers were given, either directly or indirectly. As with other, but not all spiritual encounters, the experience of the here and now is paramount over answers and that is what we were given.

 

5. Stephen Doitschinoff
Stephan Doitschnioff, CVLTO DO FVTVRV, 2017

The evening orchestrated a blend of light hearted enjoyable works, as well as thoroughly enchanting and thought provoking pieces, which accumulated to the build up of the final act of the night. The first point of the manifesto CVLTO DO FVTVRV states: “we have no answers to your problems”. This statement and the procession of the CVLTO DO FVTVRV is what finalised Wilder Beings Command. The manifesto of this group gives us insight into the motive of the near thirty-minute march that concluded the evening.  Leading the audience all around the historical grounds of the Irish Museum of Modern Art the third statement of the manifesto reads “We believe in the immediate data of consciousness and we march for the improvement of its content”. The simple marching alongside other invested witnesses on historic grounds with a near hundred drumming beats echoing the space is an experience you could not help but be wholly absorbed in. While no answers were found in this spiritually charged journey of overlapping moments within this event, we are reminded that the spiritual takes many forms, many perspectives and “endures in our everyday lives”.

6. Stephen Doitschinoff
Stephan Doitschnioff, CVLTO DO FVTVRV, 2017

Wilder Beings Command, featuring Gareth Anton Averill, Stephan Doitschnioff, Stephen Dunne, Mark Titchner, Daniel O’Sullivam, Isadora Epstein, Christopher Mahon, Emily Mast and Barry (Edward Clydsdale Thomas, Sjoerd Westbroek and Frans-Willem Koresten)  curated by Rachel Gilbourne and Janice Hough. took place on July 29th, 2017, at the Irish Museum of Modern Art. Images by Misha Beglin.

The Stillness of Silence

by EL Putnam

Stillness is not devoid of motion, since complete stillness is impossible, like silence after John Cage. Even if an object does not appear to be moving, it exists on a massive celestial body—the Earth—that is perpetually in motion. The stillness of the human body is a major illusion, as it vibrates with life from minute gestures, the pulsating flow of blood, the tingling energy of the nervous system, along with the many other corporeal processes that ceaselessly function. It is the illusion of stillness that make it so provocative, as it is not a void, but requires a deep engagement to fully value what is already present. Thus, Inma Pavon’s performance that complimented Danny McCarthy’s Beyond Silence: A Bell Rings in an Empty Sky appropriately draws from the minimal repertoire of stillness.

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Dressed in a white Kimono, with her face covered by a sheer cloth, Pavon minutely paces around McCarthy’s installation of un-rung bells. Her steps are minor, her back erect, and her hands folded onto each other through the hours that the work takes. The white of her costume contrast the rich blue walls, which become the empty sky of McCarthy’s title. Like a moving cloud drifting across the heavens, Pavon resists the temptation of movement, maintaining a composed posture that takes extreme bodily and mental dedication. The minimalism of her actions draw attention to the most subtle gestures, charging them with an energy that is not absent of movement, but loaded with the potential for movement. Pavon’s appearance echoes the marble busts that line the walls, emphasizing how McCarthy’s installation of bells do not fill a white void, but create an intervention in a space commonly not utilized for the exhibition of art: the gallery floor.

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Pavon’s steps delicately around the bells, maintaining a persistent walking meditation that adds an illusion of preciousness to McCarthy’s objects. The bells are kitschy tchotchkes, the collectable objects that function as souvenirs. These are not the sort of objects that enter museum collections, though they are of the sort that are made precious through personal accumulation. McCarthy’s act of placing them within a fine arts gallery shifts their significance, which is further transformed by Pavon’s graceful motions into a spiritual reverence. Her actions imbue an aura around these humble objects that are detached from their histories of personal affection.

 

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Witnessing this performance requires an empathetic stillness on behalf of the viewer, for any sudden motion disrupts the energy that Pavon cultivates. The subtleties of Pavon’s performance contrast the growing sonic chaos seeping into the room that day. First it is the sounds of the café, the other galleries, and even the street that infiltrate the space, accompanied by the hum of the building itself. Then it is the sounds produced by David Stalling, Anthony Kelly, Katie O’Looney, and Danny McCarthy in an adjacent gallery that contribute to the aural ambiance of the experience. As such, a collaboration forms across spaces through the subtleties that stillness and silence afford. Even though McCarthy’s interventions already draw attention to the liminal spaces of the Crawford galleries, Pavon’s actions, and later the sounds of McCarthy and others, enunciate these qualities through their performances. In particular, Pavon’s impossible stillness emphasizes the fullness of silence.

 

Inma Pavon performed at the publication launch of Danny McCarthy’s Beyond Silence: A Bell Rings in an Empty Sky (available from Farpoint Recordings), along with a sound performance by McCarthy, Katie O’Looney, David Stalling, and Anthony Kelly at the Crawford Art Gallery, Cork on 8 July 2016. McCarthy’s exhibition of the same title runs from 26 May to 12 August, 2017. Photographs by EL Putnam.

I WANT COGNITIVE LIBERTY

by Sara Muthi

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When we think about a balanced lifestyle we rarely think about the balance of our brains. While our consumption of sustenance and physical activity fuels our precious bodies to build strength and maintain health within the flesh that wraps our bones, we often neglect the balance of our minds.

What Sara French manages to do within the performance Rooting for Wimps is provide an accessible, interactive and engaging lesson into our brain’s hemispheres. Benefits and solutions to the problem of our left-hemispheres are also uniquely addressed. In our left brain, there is a world…

where bureaucracy flourishes, the technical becomes important, uniqueness is lost, an obsession to govern and control seethe through every crevice of modern life. Our right hemisphere sees the world on a broader plain. That’s where we want to be. That’s who we want to be, the life force power of the universe.

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Rooting for Wimps was not a lecture or seminar, French created a refreshing space in which striving for the betterment of ourselves, and by proxy society, I believe I was not alone in experiencing.  This performance is an encouragement by French, a rooting for us to begin to take control of our minds, our strength and our agency and it starts with 3 simple exercises, 3 times a week:

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3 sets of 30 jumps on your left leg.

Approx. 20 back curls and then presses, using a dumbbell on your left arm.

2 sets of 1 min running on your left leg, with 10 seconds rest between.

These simple exercises are not about strength, endurance or stamina, French states it’s about balancing your left and your right.

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As a “rightie”, I have myself noticed something which has been proven and French recounts within the script of her performance. Humans tend to prefer things that are in front of their dominant side, their comfort zone. It’s natural and impulsive. It’s research like this that would make you feel claustrophobic within your mind, and is what French describes as feeling trapped inside her own body. Making automated choices you never knew you were making is not an easy truth to process. Being on autopilot when you thought you were in the pilot’s seat can be unsettling. These concepts don’t just have small implications in our everyday decision making, but also in major political discourse as well. We cannot begin to fathom how many of our choices are automated or nudged certain directions due to things outside of our control.

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French is rooting for you and your cognitive liberty. Escape your left brained ways to finally tap into your potential, be the lifeforce power of the universe.  By following these simple exercises our minds may be moulded and lean towards the right side of our mind, allowing us a less than illusionary version of agency, agency which is consistently under threat. By gaining awareness, and actively improving our cognitive agency, we may begin to think for ourselves and regain control of our minds, our society and our democracy.

“Let’s be our own choice architects.”

French achieved a complex goal, a method to achieve an escalated human experience, by developing awareness of your mind through the persona of  a simple, a relatable and familiar character. to many of us. An online video tutorial often features a character which is fun, motivating, educational and occasionally convincing convicting. All these traits are for the betterment and growth of the viewer, a persona in which French embodied effortlessly. The day of the performance, an air of motivation swept across the audience as she interacted directly with some enthusiastic and less than willing participants, bridging the gap between performer and spectator, counting together, stretching together, and spotting each other.

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French’s persona never broke from the upbeat character, nor was it ever misleading. While the piece was intentionally accessible to a wide audience, its implications were clear: a need for cognitive liberty was read between her words and actions with ease.

The success of the accessibility of this performance is a testament to the artist, but also the curator Roisin Bohan, whom organised this four-part performance series, each being incredibly stimulating (including works by Lisa Freeman and Ciara Lenihan, Mark Buckeridge and the ALL CHOIR, and Celina Muldoon), yet thoroughly enjoyable and thought provoking. Rooting for Wimps is the last in this series.

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French has crafted a performance that has shone a light on a widely unnoticed, yet invaluable information about cognitive liberty which is not beyond our reach, or genetics. Through persistence and awareness, we too may “improve our problem-solving skills, develop better spatial awareness, hone on home in on empathy, be more playful and master the skill of thinking up and telling compelling narratives, with 3 simple exercise, 3 times a week.”

Rooting for Wimps, performed by Sara French, curated by Róisín Bohan, took place on July 15th, 2017, at the Temple Bar Gallery + Studios. Images by Gary Teeling.

 

Enter the Spielraum

by EL Putnam

Imagine a childhood dreamscape embodied by the adult imagination: fantastical creatures, biomorphic forms, and elongated amalgamations of body parts — all constructed of household materials. Such is my primary impression of Celina Muldoon’s untitled live installation, which exudes a perfect crudeness in its performance of an engineered mythology. The work encompasses eight performers, with each adorned in a complex costume made of masking tape, hand drawn features, and in one case, a flowing plastic sheet. These participants shift through the space in a distinctive choreography that emerges from the material forms they wear. There is a delicacy to the actions that contrasts the bulkiness of the costumes. The energy builds as the gestures loop, accompanied by an electronic soundtrack that imbues an ethereal quality.

Celina Muldoon, 'Untitled',Temple Bar Gallery and Studios, Live installation-performance, May 2017, 1.jpg

The limits of this fantasy are revealed in the theatricality of the materials; instead of striving for seamless representation, the complex constructions do not hide their rough and ready nature. However, I cannot help but get caught up in the illusion, despite its obvious staging, imbuing the performance with a captivating honesty.

Muldoon sits in the middle of this all, wearing a monstrosity of couture that transforms her into a Centaur-like creature. She gazes at the audience from her position on the ground, though over time, her face wears a pained expression as she bears the weight of her headpiece. At one point, she breaks the looping choreography as she rises from her seated position. Other performers disrupt their patterns to assist her, as the weight of her costume limits mobility. The performers form a line, circling the room with Muldoon in lead. She awkwardly navigates the space, hindered by the ampleness of the horse’s body she adorns. Throughout this process, she maintains a poise, occasionally thrusting the weight of the body she wears, which is supported in the back by a pair of roller skates. Her clumsy gait promotes laughter from the people sitting next to me; an appropriate, affective response to the scenario unfolding before us.

Celina Muldoon, 'Untitled' Live Installation-Performance, Temple Bar Gallery and Studios, May 2017, 3.jpg

There is a term in German — spielraum — that literally translates to “play room,” but it is used colloquially to describe if there is “wiggle room;” some space of discursive negotiation. Martin Heidegger (2008) uses the term in his essay “The Origin of the Work of Art” when he describes how truth is revealed in the strife and free space [Streit- und Spielraum] that art affords.  Art, therefore, opens a space for conceptual and sensory play. However, as Samuel Weber  (2004) emphasizes in his reading of Heidegger, this play in not harmonious, as it is accompanied by “irreducible and generative strife” (56). In her live installation, Muldoon takes advantage of the Streit- und Spielraum opened through the work of art, letting her imaginative negotiation of theatrical materiality and performed gestures present an awkward fantasy.

Watching Muldoon’s live installation also evokes Matthew Barney’s fantastical creatures and Thomas Hirschhorn’s consumerist spectacles, though what makes her vision distinctive is her feminist position. The creatures carry an androgynous air, as gestures play with a gender fluidity, which is most poignant in the tall insect-like creature, performed by Austin Hearne. Hearne’s tall and solid corporeal structure is amplified by his costume that looks like an intersection of a medieval knight with a winged arthropod. The sturdiness of his stature is contrasted with a graceful step—his feet delicately moving along the floor, as if he is wearing an invisible pair of stilettos. The plastic sheet that floats under his masking tape wings contribute to the daintiness of his appearance, providing a contrast of gendered behaviors that embrace the freedom of play that the scenario invites.

Celina Muldoon, 'Untitled', Live Installation - Performance, Temple Bar Gallery and Studios, May 2017, 21.jpg

At the same time, Muldoon presents herself as the focal point of the event, exuding a matriarchal force. As I watch the other performers assist her move around the room, countering the material weight of her costume, she asserts her role as the queen of this whimsical colony. Her sure and steady presence is affirmed through her unrelenting gaze. Muldoon’s reliance on others to catalyze her movements suggests Judith Butler’s (2004) observations of the body, which she describes as our own, but also not quite our own:

Although we struggle for rights over our own bodies, the very bodies for which we struggle are not quite ever our own. The body has its invariably public dimension. Constituted as a social phenomenon in the public sphere, my body is and is not mine. Given over from the start to the world of others, it bears their imprint, is formed within the crucible of social life; only later, and with some uncertainty, do I lay claim to my body as my own, if, in fact, I ever do (26).

The performers’ actions emphasize the human interconnectedness of bodies through the choreography of their movements, engagement with the audience with the gaze (and for one character, gestures of listening), and by providing necessary support to Muldoon as she manoeuvres the weight of cardboard and masking tape. Muldoon also manages to lay claim to her body, through the enunciating flick of her rear-end and punctuating hop of the roller skates.

In this work, Muldoon creates a mythological dreamscape, where bodies embrace the theatricality of material. The work opens a spielraum that is visually and sonically captivating, while also playing with notions of human interconnectedness that emerge from a feminist position. Delightfully subversive, Muldoon emphasizes the value of play.

The untitled live installation/performance by Celina Muldoon took place 27 May 2017 at Temple Bar Gallery and Studios. Performers include: Terence Mc Eneaney, Susan Buttner, Elaine Grainger, Stephane Bena Hanly, Austin Hearne and William Murray. The event was curated by Roisin Bohan. Photographs are courtesy of the artist.

References

Butler, J., 2004. Precarious Life: The Powers of Mourning and Violence. Verso, London and New York.

Heidegger, M., 2008. The Origin of the Work of Art, in: Krell, D.F. (Ed.), Basic Writings. Harper Perennial Modern Thought, London, pp. 143–212.
Weber, S., 2004. Theatricality as Medium, Kindle. ed. Fordham University Press, New York.

 

 

Technological Translations

by EL Putnam

When watching performance mediated through the camera (either as a film, video, or photograph) means watching it through someone else’s eyes. The camera has a special relationship with performance art, commonly used to document the traces of ephemeral actions. However, this tool is not an objective observer. It is a machine capable of capturing time, which it can manipulate, frame, and modify, only to present it in another space. Such a mediation is referred to as post-phenomenological, which Don Ihde (2010) describes as the recognition that the perceivable extends beyond the bodily senses and thus can be mediated through instruments. I am fascinated by the relationship of the camera to the physicality of performance, not so much as a documentary tool, but how it extends the experience of a performance through the interplay of technological and corporeal gestures.

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Long exposure photograph of Leah Robinson performing Amanda Coogan’s You Told Me to Wash and Clean my Ears at I’ll Sing You a Song from Around the Town, 2015, Royal Hibernian Academy, Dublin, Ireland. Image by EL Putnam.

I recently watched Paddy Cahill’s film Amanda Coogan: Long Now, which contains footage from Coogan’s RHA exhibition, I’ll sing you a song from around the town. I had visited the exhibition regularly — at least once a week or sometimes more, staying several hours each time, as I let myself get sucked into the passing of durational performance. Therefore, I felt well versed in what the exhibition offered. However, as I watched the film flickering on the screen of the Triskel Arts Centre in Cork, I was captivated by what Cahill composed of these same experiences, and how his use of the camera brought new depth to performances I already thought I knew. The camera allowed him to obtain a closeness to the subject, presenting an intimacy I otherwise did not experience, emphasized by the caress of the camera lens as he shifted focus, presenting details just outside the limits of my ocular perception. With the camera maintaining a steady gaze, I took in the subtle details I previously overlooked, such as the wrinkles on Coogan’s fingers from being immersed in water for so long when performing Yellow. The camera elongates gestures, allowing them to linger beyond the threshold of live perception. The camera directs me where to see, valuing Cahill’s attention to details, which is difficult to focus on when witnessing multiple performances simultaneously within a gallery. Cahill also took the liberties to change the speed of documentation. For example, when presenting a time-lapse sequence, I am taken aback by the different pacing of the performers in contrast to gallery observers, who seem to be moving in distinctive timelines; passersby scurry about as the performer indulges in the present.

Such utilization of the camera in relation to performance exceeds the role of documentation, emphasizing what is possible when bringing together this technological machine with bodily action. The relationship of performance to the camera is one of translation — the live action and the captured trace are never quite the same. However, I do not qualify this relationship as one of loss, since the camera also opens new forms of perception and participation for a viewer while extending the space of creative potential for the artist. The camera produces something different than a live performance, but it also opens the membranes of engagement, drawing out the folds of experience into other times and other places.

Works Cited

Ihde, D., 2010. Heidegger’s Technologies: Postphenomenological Perspectives. Fordham University Press, New York.

 

Paddy Cahill’s film Amanda Coogan: Long Now was screened at the Triskel Arts Centre on June 20 2017, as part of the Perforum Conference, “Body Activities,” organised by Inma Pavon and hosted by the Drama and Theatre Studies Department, University College Cork.