Out of Parsley: Performing Adrian Piper
"Visit a museum while gnawing the fibrous stems of a sprig of parsley, allowing the leafy part to protrude from your mouth."
Description: This assignment was part of a course I had attended last semester (SS19), titled "Performance and Politics in the Global South." Each individual was instructed to pick a Fluxus score from a list and to later document their experiences. I highlight mine below:
I am trying to perform...
September 20th, 2019. It has been almost 3 months since the beginning of summer, and much more since I decided to perform. As I revisit the syllabus, skimming through the various topics we have dealt with, my skepticism rises as I wonder why I chose this one particular score, number 16, out of all others. Curiosity to observe the reactions of the onlookers, or perhaps mere attention-seeking. I am unable to trace my intentions, nor do I understand my desire to do so. Yet I do believe that they have played an important role in my overall performance, and hindered me from creating “pure” art, in search of results, a purpose, a sense of usefulness…
My
consciousness was elsewhere; with the way I chose to dress in order to fit into
certain “museum ideologies”, with the people’s responses, with the
surveillance, but not so much with the act itself. This has led me to
completely misinterpret the score on my first try, swallowing the parsley
instead of allowing it to be seen. Hence, I performed this piece twice, or
might I say an infinite number of times in different bodies and spaces.
The first time was on a rainy Sunday morning; the perfect opportunity to gather around museum-goers hiding from the cold wet streets of Vienna. A handful of parsley and a friend to help gather as much documentation material as possible, I have failed to achieve my most important task; presenting to the public. Looking back, the uncertainty of my movements as I moved through the Albertina, as well as some raised suspicions from the security guards, obstructed me from standing out from the works of Picasso and Monet. I was just another visitor, vigorously chewing on pieces of parsley like they were a snack I wasn’t allowed to sneak in. “So, do it again!” my lecturer advised, and this time I was determined to go to extremes in order to fully achieve the outcomes I was seeking, unsure of what those were.
The first time was on a rainy Sunday morning; the perfect opportunity to gather around museum-goers hiding from the cold wet streets of Vienna. A handful of parsley and a friend to help gather as much documentation material as possible, I have failed to achieve my most important task; presenting to the public. Looking back, the uncertainty of my movements as I moved through the Albertina, as well as some raised suspicions from the security guards, obstructed me from standing out from the works of Picasso and Monet. I was just another visitor, vigorously chewing on pieces of parsley like they were a snack I wasn’t allowed to sneak in. “So, do it again!” my lecturer advised, and this time I was determined to go to extremes in order to fully achieve the outcomes I was seeking, unsure of what those were.
I am radicalizing the authentic...
I reflect
on Adrian Piper’s words as I walk around the many exhibitions of the MAK
(Museum of Applied Arts), contemplating the relationship between the viewer, the
artwork, and the artists’ histories. My mind was shifting in myriad directions, from the way I paced myself to the response of onlookers who seemed
to be indifferent about the stems jutting out from my mouth. Infuriated, I
defied Piper’s simple instructions and loudly chewed on the stalk, approaching
visitors, breathing in their direction while simultaneously pretending to be
interested in Koloman Moser’s sketches. I was indeed confronted with some
side-eye, some giggles, and a sense of success overwhelmed me as I began to
feel more visible in a make-belief space.
It felt like cheating; going through excerpts from Piper’s interpretation of her own works. Even though I was aware that I was re-creating, my sense of “originality” was flooded with thoughts I have learned to become accustomed to. Was altering with the score the only way I could possibly reach out to Viennese audience? How relevant is a performance’s “authenticity” in such situations? In order to achieve this well sought-after attention, I knew I had to exaggerate. There it was; the state of liminality I was embodying as I walked in another museum with what I thought was a better understanding of my assignment and what I was ultimately searching for in people’s reactions.“Performance studies inherits another form of radicalism: its proclivity toward the avant-garde that values originality, the transgressive, and, again, the “authentic”.” [1]
[1] (Taylor, 2003, p. 9)
I am already in a performance...
“To treat any object, work, or product “as” performance means to investigate what the object does, how it interacts with other objects or beings, and how it relates to other objects or beings.” [2]
My analysis
begins with the absurd realization
that my performance was not one at all; the act
I was putting on was, in fact, a part of a bigger stage consisting of actors and
spectators. The museum, a fantasy world filled with works from artists who
exist in archives, the people’s willingness to take part in the ritual, and
myself, watching the watchers. A three-dimensional screen that penetrates
through endless repetitive behaviours in a culturally appropriated scene. Were
people disinterested out of respect, out of knowing, or out of conditioning?
What seemed to be an “is” performance exposed itself “as” performance, with no
clear line splitting between the perceived and perceivers’ awareness of their
surroundings.
Why do we
go to museums? To learn about them, to feel a sense of inclusivity, to surround
ourselves with painted canvases we can mostly only look at, oftentimes not
allowed to touch nor come close to. I
fear I am running out of words to describe the palpable structures that go around
this establishment. From the way they are architecturally built to their
internal functions, a lifelike re-enactment showcasing ‘artlike’ installations.
This is what Piper perfectly described in ‘Catalysis’, explaining the way in
which museums create a “pre-standardized set of responses, [preparing] the
viewer to be catalysed…” [3]
I am out of parsley...
I end this
essay with unanswered questions, about the privilege that comes with creating
art, let alone exhibiting it. Who gets to stay, and who is able to get away
with the same actions? It is clear to me that if I were to look or dress
differently, I would have most likely been kicked out, perhaps this is where I
felt I have failed most, not being able to perform to my fullest potential. I
contemplate the numerous ways I could have done this differently, the countless
scenarios that could have happened instead. How much further can I go? How much
parsley is there left?
References
1. Piper, Adrian (1968-1992). Out of Order, Out of Sight: Selected Writings in Meta-Art .2. Schechner, Richard (2002). Performance Studies: An Introduction.
3. Taylor, Diana (2003). The Archive and the Repertoire: Performing Cultural Memory in the Americas. Duke University Press.
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