Iain Forsyth & Jane Pollard - Performer. Audience. F*** Off, 2009.
In a perfect world, any exhibition is a two-way street. On one hand, you have the observers, the audience. They are there to be entertained or informed or engaged. They learn about and are moved by a certain aspect of the world properly presented to them, and in turn they not only learn about their cultural and emotional environment but themselves as well. On the other hand, you have the performer, the artist.
They’re here to evoke the aesthetic and establish the dialogue in some way for the observing audience. They are the center of the attention of a larger crowd, and thus they must transform that unbalanced energy into a deliverance of the desired experience for the audience. It is an undeniably symbiotic relationship; one party needs the other and vice-versa.
While this presenter-observer relationship both realistically and symbolically permeates a great amount of human interaction, rarely is the two-way street dynamic itself observed and analyzed. Enter the PUBLICSFEAR exhibit at the South London Gallery. Consisting of works compiled over the last seven years by renowned multimedia artists Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard, PUBLICSFEAR is a unique and thorough study on shifting the bifurcating focus on performer and audience in situations ranging from professional performances to social interaction.
Immediately upon entrance, you’re steeped in near complete darkness save for the flickering lights of film projected against the walls. The first work that greets you is File Under Sacred Music, a detailed remake of punk-rock pioneers The Cramps 1978 Live At Napa State Mental Hospital concert. Beyond the bedrock theme of the performer-audience dynamic, the piece also introduces two other prominent thematic elements of Forsyth’s and Pollard’s work: obsession with music and sound, and affinity for contemporary musical subcultures (ranging from punk to hip-hop throughout).
File under Sacred Music by Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard
In the next projected film piece, the bluntly titled Performer, Audience, Fuck Off, a comedian performs for a crowd in front of a mirrored wall, frequently making comments on individuals in the audience. However, the routine goes beyond observational comedy, as the comedian comments on and analyzes the reactions of those called on in real time, shining a light on the uncomfortable and even animalistic reflexes of having the limelight shifted instantly from the performer to an observer. The universal truth expressed by the piece is revealed near the end when the comic turns towards the mirrored wall and admits that while many would think it a frightful position to perform in front of a crowd, the most nerve-racking experience actually comes from turning observation onto oneself, both physical and otherwise. Thus the self, and the resultant escapism from the self, becomes an underlying motif in the performer-audience relationship.
This uneasy examination of the self highlighted by performance is continued in a mysterious vein in the isolated section of the exhibit known as Silent Sound. Upon entering the mezzanine away from the other works, the participant is told that the current piece employs subliminal messaging masked by a classical music recording. However, there is no mention of what the message is – one is only aware that there is some hidden message being stealthily delivered via music. As the observer is immersed into the pitch black room surrounded by speakers blasting out orchestral composition, the focus is once again thoughtfully shifted towards the self/the observer, despite the masterful musical performance pumping through the speakers. We know we are being affected, but how? Even if this exhibit is the first instance wherein one consciously asks this, it’s the only question that really matters between artist and audience.
Kiss My Nauman by Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard
In a slightly lighter twist, there is then Kiss My Nauman. Referencing Bruce Nauman’s 1967 Art Make-Up, the piece presents four TV screens, each displaying a close up of a man undertaking the tedious process of applying the iconic makeup of world famous rock group KISS. The viewer is given the mirror’s perspective, completely reversing the performer-audience relationship, betraying a level of vulnerability to the performer perspective, as well as a certain amount of ritual solemnness to the seemingly inane act of male rockstars painting their faces.
The lightness is quickly done away with in the twin pieces Walking After Acconci and Walking Over Acconci. In these two short films, rapper Plan B and MC MissOddKidd treat the camera as their respective partners in a failing relationship, making the viewer ultimately feel like the one being ranted at. Despite its rather informal approach, its a surprisingly chilling glance at how even a conversation between two supposedly equal peers is distorted and becomes a merciless performer talking down a one way street to a helpless audience.
The final piece, entitled Anyone Else Isn’t You, is a touchingly personal glance at how music defines life experience and relationships for 14 young people by asking them to talk into a camera about their favorite mix tapes. The result is the heartwarming realization of the truly fluid nature of the performer audience relationship, in effect summing up the entirety of the PUBLICSFEAR exhibit. Through performance and observation, each party gives something up hoping to receive something.
As observers we attempt to escape and transcend the self, but risk the tables turning and having the focus put back on the self in a more vulnerable, public position. However, if we succeed in transcending the self, we can be distracted, informed and entertained by the performer highlighting the world around us and its more luminous qualities. The performer does the opposite, trading certain exposition of the self for forum of expression wherein there is both artistic/emotional release and enlightenment on behalf of a larger group, thus fulfilling the human need to contribute to community. PUBLICSFEAR captures this tumultuous, ever-complex and fruitful relationship as accurately as two artists possibly can in one room.
Visit PUBLICSFEAR exhibition at The South London Gallery until 18 March 2011.
Picture credit: www.artwednesday.com
