Thursday, May 12, 2016

Notes on Violeta Luna’s Workshop

As I mentioned in my previous post, San Francisco-based Mexican performer Violeta Luna’s workshop took place from March 26 to 28, 2016 at the Sofia University in Tokyo. She was invited by Professor Emiko Yoshikawa specializing in Latino-American culture. The professor believes that culture and society should be understood not only by reading texts but also by physical experience. As one of the participants, I am grateful for her enthusiasm because few workshops that consider making performance art as political actions are held in Japan, though many ones that teach skills are. The majority of participants were artists struggling to create something that has to do with social and political issues. A few of them were relatively well-known among the art circle in Tokyo.


So, contrary to general perception, it is not that few Japanese artists make political statements by their pieces. On the other hand, I sometimes see that some Japanese artists' strange behavior that they claim their pieces “not political’’ when asked, even though their pieces involve some kind of political statement. I remember, for example, documentary filmmaker Linda Hoaglund at the talk show after the screening of her ANPO: Art X War (2010)--which studied how Japanese artists had been responding to the US military presence in Japan--reported that Japanese artist Makoto Aida said his painting in which Japanese fighter aircraft attacking New York was not political. Why did he say so?—I guessed that he had to be protective because his piece drew criticisms in New York. I am not criticizing him, but, did he know that his remark would not change the nature of his work?


It can be said that many Japanese artists think that making political statements can risk their careers. There is social--or, market, if you like--pressure that conforms them to the idea that art should have nothing to do with politics. There is also direct involvement of the authority that suppresses them, such as arresting an artist whose pieces are created from 3D printings of her vagina. Moreover, the pieces that criticize the Abe administration are often (self) censored by art museums and public facilities at which the directors cowardly avoid controversy. Therefore the artists can strategically choose to claim their pieces "not political."


On the other hand, from the artists' practical point of view, the ambiguity of their pieces remain important. Many may think their pieces should be open to interpretation, or they simply take the issues to the street.


Violeta Luna's pieces seem to retain such ambiguity, although her pieces make her anti-global capitalism, anti-violence, anti-racism, and anti-sexism position obvious (and she sometimes takes her pieces to the street). Marina Abramović maybe her inspiration, but her ritualistic gestures and colorful installations are unique to her.


At the workshop, we learned her rather an intuitive approach to "installation"--placing the props and bodies. Every participant was asked to bring objects and costumes that have something to do with their identity. We put them together in a corner of the room and share them when making installations. We were not asked to explain how the objects and costumes we brought relate to identity--and that was good, I think. We can share ideas not only verbally, but also visually, or physically. When you talk too much, the creative process often halts. We are divided into smaller groups, given themes such as "globalization," "Japan 2016," "yourself you do not want to show," etc., and improvised. The schedule was tight, so we did not have much time to talk, and that was good, too.


At the end of the workshop, each participant made their solo pieces. They were from various backgrounds, so were the pieces--some were dance, some were music, some were a theatrical play, and some were installations. They were honest pieces.


My piece is related to my past. In 2004, I was among the struggling artists who were invited to an artist in residence program in Kortrijk, Belgium. We were allowed to have a 3 month-working period and presentations at a festival. I brought my materials which are slide photos of street name signs of a newly built residential area in a suburb of Brussels. Strangely, the streets were named after Hollywood celebrities, such as “Chemin Alfred Hitchcock,” “Rue James Dean,” “Rue Audrey Hepburn,” “Rue Marilyn Monroe,” etc. The idea that doing iconic moments of these film stars easily came to me, but I was reluctant to do so because it was what Jérôme Bel, whose pieces often play with cultural icons, could have done. I liked artists such as Bel, Xavier Le Roy, and Mette Edvardsen, those who created brilliant pieces with simple ideas and clarity. But, I could not find a way of making something as good as theirs without aping them. So, I dropped the initial idea and made an installation. At the workshop, I came back to this initial idea.

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

2 books I'm reading

I'm reading two books: one is Jodi Dean's Crowds and Party (Verso, 2016); another is Jeroen Peeters' Through the Back--Situating Vision between Moving Bodies (Peeters and Theater Academy of the University of Arts Helsinki, Kinesis 5, 2014).

It has passed five years since I was excited about people rising up everywhere. Dean's book comes at the time of reflection. Why did it become so difficult to say "we"? In her introduction, her observation of one of the "Occupy" actions at Washington Square Park describes what kind of ethos we are in:
We knew that Washington Square Park was closing at midnight. We felt the police tightening their line, starting to deny newcomers entry to the park. After the fifteen-minute or so breakout session where we talked with those around us about talking the park, we pulled back together as one assembly. Speaker after speaker, amplified by the People's Mic (where the crowd repeats the words of a speaker so that those who are farther away know what is being said), urged us to take the park. We are many. We outnumber them. We can do it. We must do it. Upraised hands twinkled approval in waves of support round and round the circle. Then, a tall, thin, young man with curly dark hair and a revolutionary look began to speak.
We can take this park!
We can take this park!
We can take this park tonight!
We can take this park tonight!
We can also take this park another night.
We can also take this park another night.
Not everyone may be ready tonight.
Not everyone may be ready tonight.
Each person has to make their own autonomous decision.
Each person has to make their own autonomous decision.
No one can decide for you. You have to decide for yourself.
No one can decide for you. You have to decide for yourself.

Everyone is autonomous individual.
Everyone is autonomous individual.
The mood was broken. The next few speakers also affirmed their individuality, describing some of the problems they would encounter if they had to deal with security from NYU or if they got arrested. We were no longer a "we," a collective. (3)
Elsewhere in the book she states, "It sometimes seems as if people on the Left love revolution, but hate the party. We enthusiastically support transformation, especially personal transformation. Yet in the same breath we scoff at institutionalized practices strategically oriented toward the pursuit of radical political change. Many of us thus reject the organizational form that marks the difference between the chaos of revolution and the building of a new political and social order. With this rejection, we shield ourselves from a confrontation with the reality of division, luxuriating instead in the fantasy of the beautiful moment. (209)" She basically argues that some kind of communist (she revives this word) party is necessary after the crowds have been dispersed. But, she is not trying to revive that Soviet-style parties. I will write my thoughts when I will have finished.

Dean also criticizes the ethos behind the feminists' slogan that the personal is political, which may still be important for many of those who make performance art. The pieces that have something to do with identity politics may work as long as the artists aim at social transformation, but not a personal one. There may be many artists who start making pieces from identity politics aiming at social transformation. In February I participated in a creative workshop by San Francisco-based Mexican artist Violeta Luna. Discussing with her, I noticed that, for her, "identity" means "taking sides" rather than "who I am." She said that although she was not, for example, one of those undocumented immigrants, she could use that identity to make a piece on behalf of them. Although I don't dismiss Dean's criticism on that the personal is political, at this moment I just note that artistic practices (Dean is not writing about art, anyway) revolving around identity politics are complex.

During her workshop Luna used the word, "subversive body,' which was familiar to me. I have an experience of participating in a workshop entitled exactly "subversive body." It happened in 2001. The workshop was directed by German artists, deufert & plischke. That time my English was too bad to discuss identity politics, let alone understand Judith Butler--Gender Trouble is still hard for me to grapple with--, but anyway, it made me start learning English. After the workshop, I briefly worked with them and then kept staying in Europe--mainly in Brussels.

It has already past ten years since I left Brussels. I have been trying to understand what I could not understand during my stay in Europe, reading some philosophical books, etc. A failed artist can make a philosopher.

When I arrived in Brussels in 2002 and was trying to know what kind of people were around, dance critic Helmut Ploebst's no wind no word (Kieser, 2001) came in handy. It introduces Meg Stuart, Vera Mantero, Xavier Le Roy, Benoît Lachambre, Raimund Hogue, Emio Greco / PC, João Fiadeiro, Boris Charmatz, and Jérôme Bel. Jeroen Peeters' Through the Back also covers some of those artists--Stuart, Mantero, Lachambre, and Charmatz--and then younger artists including deufert & plischke. It basically is a collection of his writings written between 2000 and 2013. During the second half of this period, I was absent, but he describes a good number of pieces I actually saw. You cannot know a dance piece by reading about it.








Friday, October 30, 2015

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

anthropology of anthology/anthology of anthropology-Classwar Karaoke

Classwar Karaoke is a UK-based netlabel run by those musicians Anthony Donovan (aka murmurists), Adrian Beetjes, and Jaan Peterson. They issue quarterly--what they call--surveys. For each survey they collect tens of tracks licensed under a Creative Commons License. This time their 0017 Survey includes my least ambitious piece "Winter Sketch." Some names appearing in this compilation album are already familiar to me--I became to know murmurists via myspace (which I don't check these days) and am following Anthony Donovan, Chris Lynn, MaCu, Noise Research (who runs another netlabel Electronic Musik), and Wilhelm Matthies on SoundCloud. And Bob Ostertag is quite famous. I cannot help thinking about how times have changed. I'm old enough to know those times I had to rely on critics in order to know musicians across the world. I became to listen to those musicians such as Ostertag, Oval, Yoshihide Otomo, and so on because I read about them. Now we bypass the critics. I don't say critics are dead (I still read some of them), but they are certainly no longer gatekeepers.

Making an anthology is one thing, making an anthology listened is another. I think it's a good strategy that those operators of Classwar Karaoke do it collectively since you may not listen an anthology collected by one obscure person.

Read the short-bios of the musicians involved in Classwar Karaoke on http://classwarkaraoke.blogspot.com/2012/02/0017-survey-29th-february-2012.html

Friday, February 17, 2012

let it speak