Finding Authenticity Through Performance
Last night during Assembly #005, 10 artists chose to spend their Monday night at MAXIMA to discuss a myriad of topics. It’s funny, the discussions often start with a slight awkwardness, something that I think is typical of any start to any facilitated discussion. There is no screen or keyboard that masks us from the very physical, face-to-face interaction that Artist Assembly manifests.
The structure of the meeting itself is the default of its kind. It is raw and promotes a revealing attitude as opposed to amplifying what we all do in some way in foreign spaces—perform. In the digital age, more than ever, we think about the way we act, what we say, how we say it, how it could be perceived, how it could be interpreted etcetera, etcetera, before we even get to whatever the hell it is we want to say! We all know the feeling of having to preface the idea you truly want to share but end up not even coming close to it because of the many implications it could cause.
The phenomenon of keeping to oneself in real life and sharing beyond the end online has become one of society’s greatest misfortunes. And I don’t intend on standing idly by while it happens.
I’ve learned that it’s not just me who feels this way. I knew it was never just me, but there is something to be said about the difference between knowing other people feel similarly and being able to feel what others feel alongside them. This happens every other Monday at Assembly. Join here.
I recently performed a piece of work where I slapped myself in the face over and over again while my face went red, my body riddled with tingly sensations, and my legs grew unstable and wobbly. I repeated until I physically couldn’t. I recorded this through various screens… how many screens you ask? Well, it’s hard to estimate. I could say 5 screens, but really it was 6, or maybe it was 7. It depends on how it was viewed, how someone watched it, where they were, if they were wearing glasses… the list goes on.
I performed it on Instagram Live, a mode of transporting art that I both resent and love for people I could say the same about. I have no idea if anyone was there for the live performance, and if there were, I think it was only 1 or 2 people—no way they stayed for the 7-minute show either. I was thinking about this piece when an artist in Assembly brought up his disdain for the way that people sell themselves away to trends in hopes that it will actually do something for them. Nowadays, it is so easy to get caught up in this trap with people who I like or even admire telling me that this is the way….
“This is what you have to do now.”
Is it? Is it really?
I take a few steps back and I think about the way I feel when I did give in. It never feels honest, it never feels like me, and yet I made up some excuse in my head for why I should try it. The back and forth, the contradictions I make with myself that toy with my standards and my morals feels like I am smacking myself in the face over and over repeatedly at my expense.
I wanted to perform for myself while using an overwhelming amount of the very thing that seems to be dividing us.
How can we be overt using the tools at our disposal?
Where can we push the boundary of reality and what we think we are seeing versus what we are feeling? What is actually happening? Are we able to tell? Is it possible to give any concrete criticism of this feat or is there too much unknown?
Jeez, so do I have to hurt myself to get this level of authenticity? No, of course not. I know that piece was the mode of transportation needed for me to understand holistically that no matter where we stand in the world, how we decide to consume things or present ourselves to the world or on social media, there is a screen and a lens that separates us between the reality of it all and the performance. The distinction of either of those two things and if it matters remains unknown.
The collective cognizant nature of the false pretenses we reluctantly recognize in real life but shamelessly present online shows us that there is space for something else. Something we can be proud of. We just need to collectively act on it which, as we know, is the hardest part. Artist Assembly is a start to this collective realization that there isn’t just one way.
As always, thank you for being here,
Eli, MAXIMA