Considering Image: Performativity, Aesthetic and the Documentary Process

Vason, M. (2013) ‘Collaborative Actions #1’. [electronic print] Available at: http://lncn.eu/dkx4 [Accessed 28 February 2014].

Vason, M. (2013) ‘Collaborative Actions #1’. [electronic print] Available at: http://lncn.eu/dkx4 [Accessed 28 February 2014].

“On top of these possible points of convergence, performing arts and photography share a conceptual apparatus in which terms such as theatricality, performativity, representation and visuality [sic] function as important points of reference.”(Vanhaesebrouck, 2009, 98)

For the purposes of this article, ‘photography‘ should be understood as relating to performance photography solely, rather than photographic practise in general.

The capturing of a photographic image during the documentary research process involved in site-specific performance is an interesting process to study. Since our first outings to the Grandstand, our experience of the site has been largely mediated by the confines of the camera viewfinder or screen, our interaction with the site framed through the production of visual images. With the production of aesthetic documents being such a central part to the interactive process between student and site, it is interesting to consider the ways in which photography and performance intersect and interact with one another.

At what point does the photographic image irrevocably fuse with the performative act or site? Karel Vanhaesebrouck’s study into the use of photography in performance identifies how “photography has always held a tense relation with theatre practice, […] contaminating each other in a permanent and systematic way” (Vanhaesebrouck, 2009, 97) and how photography can “serve as dramaturgical matière brute, or it can be utterly performative in its own right” (Ibid., 98).

There is a strong academic argument behind the idea that performance photography and the performance act are interwoven, that “theatre photography is an integral part of the signification process which is at the very heart of performance studies” (Ibid., 97). The performance act relies on a system of signification, utilised by the performer to translate meaning to the audience, a term taken very loosely here not to mean just the live spectator of a performance, but also the viewer of a photograph or the inhabitant of a performance site. To this extent, the peritextual documentation surrounding this performance – the flyer, trailer, programme, newspaper interviews, reviews and, naturally, the production photography – can only be considered part of the signification process of that piece of performance art, due to the fact that each of them are involved in giving meaning to an audience about that performance. To this extent, performance and photography cannot be isolated as separate elements; instead, the two make up a dialogic activity, in which “performance – even if it is a performance in the strict sense of the word, namely that of performance art – is mediated by means of film or photography” (Ibid., 104). Joseph Beuys’ performance I Like America and America Likes Me (1974) was made up not only by the performance itself, but also the extra-performative elements – “the preparations, the flight to New York and back, transport in an ambulance from the airport to the gallery” (Ibid, 104) – which were all documented through photography, a clear example of the way in which performance and photography interact at a basic level to create one piece of work. The photographic documentation of a performance can be seen as an equally valid part as the set, costume or actor, in itself valuable to the signification process of that piece of work.

However, one can also see photography as being in itself a performance act. If we agree that “one cannot consider theatre photography […] to be a direct residue of an event that disappeared from the moment it was acted out” (Ibid., 100) then we accept the fact that performance photography can never truly capture the performance in all its detail; photography fails to capture the complex temporal and spacial rhythms of not only the performance, but also the interactions of audience and passers-by with the performance, technical elements and the site itself. Paul Simpson’s study of the space-times of street performance identifies this, stating that “an image or series of images cannot necessarily fully capture or evoke such rhythms and their qualities.” (Simpson, 2012, 425) Therefore, images of performance have to be to some extent considered to be their own sub-form, trapped between independence from and reliance upon the performance act. Melissa Heer calls this separate form the “photo-performance project” (Heer, 2012, 538). The performance photograph can be seen as interdependent upon the performance itself, but cannot present unadulteratedly the exact experience of that performance: the performance captured in the image becomes something distinct and different, through the act of capturing and processing the image. The photograph is in itself a performance site, a stage for the “continuous play between illusionistic realism and self-reflexive artifice” (Ibid., 538) of performance. Manuel Vason, whose photography seeks to “bridge photography and performance” (Vason, n.d.) is a notable artist within this area, his work “largely transcending the exclusively documentary” (Vanhaesebrouck, 2009, 105), establishing a form which is “photography as an autonomous performative practice” (Ibid., 105). When viewed in such a manner, the performance or site captured within a photographic image can be seen as its own distinct space, and certainly as a separate artistic enterprise, rather than just an aesthetic representation of the original thing photographed.

Photography, therefore, can be seen in two lights with relation to photography:

  1. As an unisolable part of the performance act, part of a continuous process of dialogue whereby the performance act informs the photographic image, and vice-versa; or,
  2. As a separate ‘space’ or ‘site’ from the live performance, unable to fully recreate the true conditions of the live act, and as such a separate or distinct space.

To relate these two conclusions to site-specific performance practice, the images produced during the exploratory developmental process of the work can be seen as either an intrinsic part of that work, in which the two are so bound up that the whole piece can never be captured by an audience member without an intimate knowledge of both the final work and its photographic contextual documentation; or as separate spaces or sites altogether, the site and site-specific performance within the image fundamentally different to the live art experience.

Having had our experience of the Grandstand so far largely documented and mediated through the use of photography, I find it personally interesting and enlightening to consider the way in which, when taking those photographs, we are engaging in a process of creation and documentation which is involved directly in the cycle of signification along with the site itself and the work we create there. I have specifically avoided uploading images I have taken of the Grandstand within this article, as I feel their inclusion may in some ways divert attention from the complex argument being made here. However, in creating images of the site throughout the rest of the process, it is important that we each consider the artistic responsibility we have to the site and to our work when creating photographs which will ultimately inform and affect what we do.

 

References:

Heer, M. (2012) Restaging Time: Photography, Performance and Anachronism in Shadi Ghadirian’s Qajar Series. Iranian Studies, 45(4) 537-548.

Simpson, P. (2012) Apprehending everyday rhythms: rhythmanalysis, time-lapse photography, and the space-times of street performance. Cultural Geographies, 19(4) 423-445.

Vanhaesebrouck, K. (2009) Theatre, performance studies and photography: a history of permanent contamination. Visual Studies, 24(2) 97-106.

Vason, M. (n.d.) Artist Statement – Manuel Vason. [online] London: Manuel Vason Studio. Available from: http://www.manuelvason.com/artist-statement/ [Accessed 28 February 2014].

Response, creation and site: discussing space through authorship

The Grandstand, Lincoln

Butler, L. (2013) ‘The Grandstand, Lincoln’. [electronic print] Available at: http://lncn.eu/ft37 [Accessed 06 February 2014].

Last Friday we had, as a group, our first opportunity to visit and explore the Grandstand. Exploring this new site for the first time without objectives could have been a difficult experience, attempting to make sense of the space without any framework within which to do so. Michael’s suggestion, to consider the spaces we explored and to author a series of almost free-written accounts, documenting our initial reactions to some of the smaller spaces within the main Grandstand building, was a useful way of entering into dialogue between oneself and the site.

Miwon Kwon has identified how conceptual perception of site has changed “from a physical location […] to a discursive vector” (Kwon, 2004, pp. 29-30), and it is this idea of the exploration of site as a discursive process which I discovered on my first visit. As a way of exploring and reacting to the site, I engaged in the creation of small texts, through which I “told as a distribution of stories and dramatic episodes” (Lorimer, 2006, p. 515) my engagement with the Grandstand as a site. Through a process of responsive creation, I became capable of holding in stasis the process of feed-and-feedback which existed in those fleeting moments between site (its structure, history, context) and self. The space gave information which I interpreted through sense – sight, sound, smell, touch; what Fiona Wilkie calls “site as story-teller” (Wilkie, 2002, p. 158) – becoming a “space of encounter” (Wilkie, 2008, p. 101) which I in turn engaged with, closing that feedback system through my “personal account of experience and of place” (Pearson, 2010, p. 15), in the form of these short textual responses.

I thought I would share those initial accounts as it may be helpful at points throughout my personal process of discovery to refer back to those first thoughts, unadulterated by expectation or research, that I had during my exploration of the Grandstand. Equally, they may help others to augment their own responses to the Grandstand, encouraging engagement with the site, either through the validity they might find in the correlations between my thoughts and theirs, or the challenge my reply to the site might pose to theirs if significantly different. The following are reproduced verbatim from my original response.

The Main Hall

Rough and ready. Plastic chairs stacked in a corner, no system, ready for use whenever. Lights hang from chains and, occasionally, a flicker. Scuffs to paintwork and chipped skirting boards. Battered steel pillars, engraved “PORTER & CỌ LINCOLN”. Rough, tactile brickwork exposed to become a ‘feature’. Electric heaters crudely affixed to walls; a warm pool of orange glow.

The Bar

Darkness – all I see is by the light cast through the door I lean against to hold open. A musty, unused smell. No longer a bar but a storeroom, children’s entertainment replacing the liquid of adult entertainment. Walls and metal grilles imprison things. An old triangle to call “time, gentlemen, please”, oddly out of place now.

The Cleaner’s Cupboard

Cold metal storage containers, ladders, padlocks, a Jewson spade, “Back Britain, Buy British”, the cleaning rota, whitewash, paint, bulbs, a small bingo game, air freshener, chemicals, a fan, a bucket containing some murky water, pine gel, Henry the Hoover, “Christmas Decorations, Do Not Move”, an alarm procedure entirely in CAPS LOCK.

Caretakers Office

Oddly hidden away, out of site – how does the caretaker oversee their kingdom? Perhaps a convenient place to slip away for some shut-eye; it might explain the pillows and the blankets. Ordered and organised but not ‘lived in’. An unloved, functional place. Two visitor chairs, keys in a box on the wall, labelled by number. Notice: “IMPORTANT: MAKE SURE THURSDAY AFTER LITTLE MONKEYS THAT THE BINS ARE TAKEN OUT OF BIN STORE.”

Corridor

People passing through, more useless objects with nowhere to be kept stored here. A small sticker on a door: “Warning: Contains Asbestos.”

 

References

Kwon, M. (2004) One Place After Another. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Lorimer, H. (2006) Herding memories of humans and animals, Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 24, 497-518.

Pearson, M. (2010) Site-Specific Performance. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.

Wilkie, F. (2002) Archaeologies of memory: Mike Pearson’s Bubbling Tom. Unpublished paper.

Wilkie, F. (2008) The production of “site”: Site-Specific Theatre. In: Holdsworth, N. and Luckhurt, M. (eds.) Contemporary British and Irish Drama. Oxford: Blackwell.