The Final Post (Evaluation)

The Final Post

After performing at the Lincoln Granstand on the 8th of May I have certainly encountered new experiences and developed as a performer, practitioner and human being. I believe my performance had many strengths but similarly there were weaknesses and definite points I could have improved on. Audience members were regular and consistent as soon as one had left another would be ready waiting at the door and all members played their role well without realising. My favourite audience members were the ones who did not know whether to laugh or cry, to smile or breakdown, the confusion on their face really fuels you as a performer, this is constantly the reaction I aim to achieve as it means you have made an impact. The direction in the space worked well, when the audience were taken into the cubicle and locked in with me eye contact was maintained consistently, whilst it was hard to keep up I feel I did a superb job and it served an essential role in creating the audience/performer relationship. I also feel the concept of eye contact maintained through the reflection of the mirror was fantastic as you never lose your audience, you always remind them of your presence and combined with the delivery of my narrative, that I did not rush through but rather took my time and enjoyed, the audience members seemed to be captivated.

In retrospect the items I put on my body (hay, mud, chalk etc..) went well, although, I feel I could have improved on this, I believed that I should have undergone more processes, such as horse-related consumption of one type or another. I also believe I could have had more hay on me, more mud smothered on my body, I believe I had the desired effect but I would have loved to really go over the top with this. Another improvement to be made would be the narrative, I wish instead of only removing my top when locked in the cubicle that I had created a narrative where I was entirely nude in the cubicle with the audience member. This does have its flaws in that it would make some audience members very uncomfortable but it would maintain that desired message that my clothes had decayed, humans had caused this decay, that direct eye contact when like that would have had a huge impact on the audience member.

If I were to create this performance again, I would want to spread it to a wider audience not just one to one, I would like to introduce more physical contact between the audience member and I such as allowing them to feed me, water me or pet me. I believe this would create a more definitive transformation from human to horse. I also would have used the decayed sinks more, I would like to have explored would I could have created in that space. Whilst it was a perfect representation of my whole piece I feel it needed something more just to create a more visual impact.

This process has taught me so much about myself and the varying degrees of performance and everyday life. It has taught me to appreciate the history of things you would normally seem irrelevant and it taught me that only when you are truly lost are you found.

The Dying Breath of a Moment in Time

The following is a slightly edited transcript of a narrative I wrote at the Grandstand on 21/03/2014, for use within my performance. I include it here for documentary purposes.

There are still people who believe that, if you’re caught in a photograph, a small part of you is taken, captured within a frame. Photographs as moments, held in stasis, frozen. When you think of it that way, the photographer – or photographic assistant – wields a lot of power. Behind a lens, with the godlike choice of whether to destroy a moment, to crush it and push it and flatten it into a single, static negative. Maybe that’s not destruction. Maybe that’s creation. Either way, there’s a responsibility which comes with it that you have to take seriously.

Imagine the photograph doesn’t exist until an hour, or a day, or a week after you first press the shutter release. Imagine that moment is just trapped inside that light-sealed box – your camera – and the only way to set it free is to develop the film, and print the picture. But it isn’t the same thing as what you captured. In bringing the image into creation, you’ve destroyed what trace of the original moment remained, and the thing you have is a very different thing to the live moment you decided to encapture.

That’s responsibility.

You’ll see on the table in front of you that there are some pieces of photographic paper. Take one of them. The first tray you’ll see on the table in front of you is filled with developer, a type of chemical which will develop the image. You need to place the paper, face down, into the chemical.

Imagine someone, a photographer, at a race. The finish line, lining up the perfect shot. And it needs to be perfect, because that photograph will decide the race, will win or lose bets, will make or ruin a day, will bolster or destroy marriages. And then imagine, just a few years later and on the same spot, with the same photographer, but he’s photographing bodies now. The civilian war dead, brought to this site, earmarked as a mortuary.

“They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old.
Time shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
Frozen, static within photographs, we will remember them.”

Take the photograph out of the developer, but keep it face down. The second tray is filled with a chemical which will stop the developing process. Just do the same as last time. Pop it in.

Imagine the photograph as being this building. The idea, captured, is finally developed. The act of creation destroys the original idea – it’s no longer needed. The thing is constructed, the bricks and mortar assembled; an act of creation, like the printing of a photograph. And then it’s put somewhere, and is forgotten, and it slowly fades until just the blurs of faces and colours can be made out, if you look hard, as traces of its history. Frozen and forgotten in time, this place is a photograph of a building, still kept in the album but barely looked at. Just there.

Take the photograph out of that tray, then. Swap it into the third bath, which will fix the image, permanently capturing it within the paper. It won’t take long.

64, 63, 62, 61, 60, 59, 58, 57, 56, 55, 54, 53, 52, 51, 50, 49, 48, 47, 46, 45, 44, 43, 42, 41, 40, 39, 38, 37, 36, 35, 34, 33, 32, 31, 30, 29, 28, 27, 26, 25, 24, 23, 22, 21, 20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

Done. Take it out, quickly, and pop it into the water. Just a quick dip. And then pass it here.

A photograph is an end. The final product of a process; the end of an exposure; the dying breath of a moment in time which won’t ever be experienced again. It’s a final moment, and it’s fixed. And you’ve done an excellent job with this ending. You’ve developed your photo finish.

I’ll peg it up to dry.

 

Notes on the transcript

The narrative itself came out of a process of exploration of the role of the photograph within traditional and experimental forms of theatre, and through continuing discussion with Michael Pinchbeck and also classmates about the ideas surrounding photography and how the idea of the creation and development of the photograph could become an extended metaphor for the development and subsequent decline of the Grandstand.

The idea of the ‘photo finish’ came out of an informal pitch made to the class and to Michael and Conan Lawrence (Pinchbeck and Lawrence, 2014) some time into the process. With the history of the Grandstand being so bound up in its original purpose, linked to the racecourse, the idea of the photograph’s purpose within horse racing – the photo finish, captured to establish a winner – seemed a logical conclusion.

The lines of poetry in the middle of the narrative are taken from the ‘Ode of Remembrance’ from Laurence Binyon’s poem For The Fallen (Binyon, n.d.). It is a re-imagining of a standard remembrance poem hashed out about the war dead every year which links the idea of freezing or holding part of a person in stasis within the photograph to the large-scale civilian casualties seen during the war, linking to the Grandstand’s planned purpose during the war as a mortuary.

Throughout I attempt to use photographic terminology. For instance: capture, negative, develop, print, exposure.

The countdown towards the end of the piece not only provides a temporal structure, a measure of time that suggests both an inevitable journey towards an ending point, and the sort of measurement of time that one would use within the process of developing a photograph. The countdown begins at 64, a reference to 1964 as the year in which racing at the Grandstand ceased and it became static and fixed.

 

References:

Binyon, L. (n.d.) The Ode. [online] Sydney: The Australian Army. Available from: http://www.army.gov.au/Our-history/Traditions/The-Ode [Accessed 21 March 2014].

Pinchbeck, M. and Lawrence, C. (2014) Site-specific performance pitches. [seminar] Site Specific Performance DRA2035M-1314, University of Lincoln, 6 March.

The Art of Installation

In exploring the Grandstands endless possibilities you stumble across that one idea that sets a chain reaction in your head leading you to concepts you would never have originally thought about. In the event of my chain reaction I stumbled across installments and their importance in contemporary performance as an art form in their own right “INSTALLATION ART is a broad term applied to a range of arts practice which involves the installation or configuration of objects in a space, where the totality of objects and space comprise the artwork.” (Irish Museum of Modern Art, 2012) Through this research you understand that you have to define the space used for the configuration, through looking at maps of the grandstand and using my own experiences of drifting I decided upon what looked to be a decaying set of toilet cubicles.

Located Through the Kitchen

The space appeared to still be used but simply as a convenient storage closet. The paint was coming off of the walls, the toilets would not flush and the was a wild variety of wildlife growing within the space. Yet, all of these flaws I simply took on as quirks, qualities that made the space what it is because after all this process is not about finding the negatives but twisting them and transforming them into positives. Already through my own judgements it could be seen that this acted as a piece of installation art, it showed years of decay “These values concern a desire to activate the viewer – as opposed to the passivity of mass-media consumption – and to induce a critical vigilance towards the environments in which we find ourselves.” (Bishop, 2005) I wanted to take this idea of ‘crucial vigilance’ one step further by presenting all of the decaying environments I saw into this once space.

Therefore, I looked through my own documentation of the grandstand I had created on my first visit and what I saw was consistent decay and objects relevant to the site with items such as the windows being painted on the back rather than being actual windows. With abandoned stables and litter everywhere. I wanted to present this documentation and so created something to show the modern age against the past, through the use of a video.

What use to be

I entitled the video ‘What use to be’ and presented it in the space on the cubicle seat using only the dim natural light of the blocked out skyline windows. I then thought to myself how could I continue this concept of documentation and decay and did this through taken pictures of people as they walked into the space. I wanted to capture the look of shock as they saw the decay that had occurred. Through adding the audio of the start of the Grand national Race I believe it explored the further history of the site and how it use to be used as a race course.

Decay on the Walls

This proved to me to be a huge leap in the understanding of Site Specific performance and that it is not about acting it is about representing the site in a way that is not usually perceived “Site-specific performance… reveals the complex two-way relationship between the person and the physical environment.” (Harrison, 2010) This is the main creation I have made, fusing people with the physical environment with the atmosphere of the space and the documentation showing what may have been missed.

References:

Irish Museum of Modern Art (2012) What Is – Installation Art, Dublin: Irish Museum of Modern Art.

Bishop, C. (2005) But is it Installation Art? Tate Etc, 3 (Spring). [online] London: Tate. Available from http://www.tate.org.uk/context-comment/articles/it-installation-art [Accessed 5 March 2014].

Harrison, B. (2010) Theatre Style: Site Specific Performance. [online] Scotland: Scottish Arts Council. Available from http://www.scottisharts.org.uk/1/artsinscotland/drama/features/archive/themesitespecifictheatre.aspx [Accessed 5 March 2014].

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].