Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Rapid Pulse 17 Day Four


Rapid Pulse 17: Day Four


Panel: Performing Leadership: Links in Creativity





Miller and Shellabarger, the artist collective responsible for the final edition of stŬ on Sunday night, are a married couple with (almost) identical long gray beards and shaved heads. According to their web site, their work "documents the rhythms of human relationships, speaking both to common experiences of intimacy as well as the specifics of queer identities. Their performances, always enacted together in public, push simple materials and actions to almost Sisyphean extremes." The idea of human relationships, intimacy and the specifics of queer identity carried over into their offering on Sunday night--a spicy peanut stew served over rice from Africa, with a yoghurt or sour cream topping to soothe the palette and offset the spiciness. Spiced cashews were available for those waiting in line, and a small tea candle was handed out with each serving of stew--suggesting both an intimate performance between two people and pointing to the queerness of that intimacy, which probably was not between lovers at the festival.


Performing Leadership: Links in Creativity

Organized by Carlos Salazar Lermont, the panel, which convened in the DFB Garage, dealt with the issue of organizing and funding art events. The panelists, Jackie Taylor Joseph Raven Mark Jeffery and Angeliki Tsoli, have all had experience with organizing alternative events and raising the money to support alternative institutions. Given the current political climate, the discussion was quite interesting, as it turned out that many of the panelists were already very savvy about raising money from non-traditional sources. Jackie Taylor is currently putting together a program to serve very young children--probably the most important and formative age. In spite of the heat, the discussion was lively and animated.


Fereshteh Toosi Driftwood

Fereshteh's Toosi's Driftwood according to her website, "is a contemplative, guided walk informed by environmentally-focused healing practices such as shinrin yoku (forest bathing), horticultural therapy, and ecotherapy. Participants will explore the connections between wellness and outdoor access while learning about the immigrant history of Eckhart Park."

The audience/participants met Toosi in front of DFB. Many more people showed up then signed up (the author was one of those who forgot to sign up) so Toosi kept her remarks short and led everyone in the direction of Eckhart Park a few blocks away. Eckhart Park is refreshingly verdant and cool. A green oasis in this midst of the urban neighborhood, it has been the site for several Rapid Pulse performances, including Alejandro T. Acierto's Untitled Action (2016) and John Court endurance performance 7 Hours 30 Minutes Untitled (2015).

Toosi first took everyone to a spot under several trees and asked people to stand in a circle and close their eyes. With eyes closed everyone turned around, noticing sounds, smells and experiences that they might not have noticed if their eyes were open. From there, people moved slowly across the park in a kind of meditational walk. Some people took off their shoes, and some people, overcome by hay fever and insects, quietly left the group.

Once the group reconvened, Toosi posed several questions to the group, such as thinking about how trees branch out above and below the ground and the way that this might relate to human migration and immigration. The group then moved to the far corner of the park and worked in groups of 2-4 to think about what it meant to belong to a community and how their identity might have changed if they had relocated to Chicago. Everyone dispersed again in order to find a tree and sit with it for about 30 minutes. Finally, the group reconvened in the gated portion of the park (this included a water attraction and playground equipment for children) and sat in a circle. Over plantain tea (the plantain is a native plant that can be found all over Eckhart Park and has healing properties), everyone shared their experiences before drifting back to the gallery. The entire piece was really powerful--very meditative and non-judgmental.


Mikey McParlane and Erica Gressman: Project

Project, according to the description provided by the artists, was a kind of latter day Frankenstein monster tale, set in a post-human, cyborg world in which unnatural nature has overrun technology. The performance opened with Gressman, a barefoot Dr. Frankenstein with white lab coat, goggles and an Tablet, poking and prodding at someone or something draped from head to toe in a white sheet. The operating theater, far from being pristine, is seemingly overrun with flora and fauna that is vaguely menacing, overly colorful (suggesting human engineering or radiation) and encroaching upon the surgical equipment. Lifting one side of the sheet, Grossman poked and rummaged around underneath it, periodically throwing out bits of grey slime--made of the same substance as the Slime toy (manufactured by pillo) that showed up in 1976: a viscous, squishy and oozy material, generally colored, made from guar gum. Suddenly, an impossible figure, part plant, part animal, part human, and part cyborg, emerged from under the sheet and fell to the floor. Keening and wailing against a background of electronic of music, the creature wreathed around on the floor, slashed what looked to be a bag, worn externally, of blood, and finally expired, at which point the performance was over. 



The description of Project, posted on the Rapid Pulse website, suggests a post-apocryphal scenario, in which everything that was once "nature" has become toxic and diseased. 

Set within an oozing laboratory of the grotesque, a mysterious surgeon builds a monstrous and beautiful creature merging complex sonic biotechnologies with gooey protean substances cultivated from the surrounding tropical overgrowth. The creature rises from the operating table, quivering insect-like between life and death, crying out in operatic bursts of pain and despair that prophesy the oncoming ecological apocalypse and unveil an emotional jungle of queer experience. As it grasps for the sublime, the creature finds itself unable to escape the technologies and manipulations of the surgeon who gave it life, bound by humanity’s dark limitations. Nature’s final resistance crumples into silence, its warning fading off into the landscape.

McParlane and Gressman have always been concerned with queering the categories of human/animal/plant/object through what could be seen as kind of excessive drag. Performed the week before Pride, Project suggested that there needs to be a more complex understanding of what constitutes human and who is permitted to be human, particularly given the pushback against LGBTI rights. Project also suggests that humans are enmeshed within the environment that produced them, and that is time to began to reverse the human imprint. From the time that they climbed to the top of the food chain until today, humans/homo sapiens have impacted the environment to a disproportionate degree, causing the extinction of species, plant life, and many of their hominid relatives. In the week following the decision on the part of the current POTUS to withdraw from the Paris Agreement, McParlane's and Gressman's performance is a reminder of what might happen if we don't pay attention to the environmental toll that has happened during the Anthropocene.



Video Series: Embodied Politics

The Video Series was screened this year in several different locations: the basement, the main gallery, and, on the final night the garage, which allowed the DBF crew to prepare the space for the final performance by Carlos Salazar Lermont. In keeping with the three performances that took place both on and off site, the theme of the final night of video pieces, curated by Giana Gambino, was embodiment and identity. Wilhelm Wilhemus's and Arianna Foks's Distraction is a video tape of a performance during which Wilhemus winds a white string around his head that unspools for Foks's mouth. The binding or encasing of the head in performance art has become a rather common motif--in this short piece it becomes a negotiation with an implied sexual tension between the two performers who are being strangled/choked by the string. The video was made by videographer Tomasz Szarama for a joint project Not Ready Yet. Other standouts included Victor de la Roque's interactive piece that required the audience to move around and change places and Francesca Fini's typewriter with nails covering the keys, resulting in hands that become increasingly mangled and a letter smeared with blood. For more on the video series, click here

Carlos Salazar Lermont

The final performance of the evening was by Carlos Salazar Lermont. The performance begin with Salazar Lermont, garbed neatly in a reddish brown shirt, black pants, and black shoes, seated next to a wooded bunkbed. Salazar Lermont moved the bed towards the back of the gallery, then moved it back. Four volunteers were enlisted: They took the top mattress off of the bed, jumped on the mattress, and then returned to the audience. 

Salazar Lermont placed long stemmed roses and a dead fish onto the lower mattress and gently covered them with a sheet. Shortly after, as though performing a magic trick, he pulled the sheet back off and held the fish and the roses aloft, even though they hadn't really changed. Holding the roses and fish aloft, Salazar Lermont climbed up to the top bunk and balanced on the slats as though he were walking on a tightrope. 

The roses and fish were wrapped and displayed in the discarded sheet/altar cloth. Seemingly from out of nowhere, Salazar Lermont produced an electric chainsaw, which he used to cut the bed in half. He nailed the fish and the roses to a makeshift cross that he fashioned from the broken bed slats, doused them in lighter fluid and set them on fire, again holding the flaming crucifixion aloft. 

The performance ended with Salazar Lermont stamping out the fire on the floor of the gallery, leaving a bloody fish and wilted roses in his wake. 


Salazar Lermont is from Venezuela, a country that is in a great deal of trouble these days, with people unable to find food, medicine, work or even a place to live. On his blog/website, Salazar Lermont has posted the following declaration:

Starting today, I, Carlos Salazar Lermont, Venezuelan artist, curator, producer and teacher, commit to adjust to a severe austerity regime, based on avoiding any kind of vain expense in daily life. Any exception will be documented and justified. This spent cut to achieve higher goals, more meaningful for personal fulfillment

The performance seeks to reflect on the effectiveness of austerity regimes to which undeveloped countries are forced to fit their economies. The personal scale acts as an analogy of the macro economic systems that significantly affect our lives as citizens. Its failure or success hopes to aid the political stand of individuals on that matter.



On the one hand, Salazar Lermont's performance at Rapid Pulse 17 can be seen as part of a tradition of action art, in which a sequence of actions reminds the audience and the artist of the malleability of materials, the vulnerability of the artist's body, and the process and difficulty of making artwork. On the other hand, it is difficult to not read this performance from the context of Austerity Performance, which has been ongoing since April 3, 2017. The bunkbed, which looks like the institutionalized furniture found in immigrant detention centers and also recalls the beds upon which political prisoners were tortured in Chile, Argentina, and Brazil, had to be literally torn/sawed in half. The rose/fish crucifix, a symbol of both sacrifice and blood, had to be destroyed. It was as though Salazar Lermont was condemning the oppressive colonialist/imperialist/religious triad that had led his country to the brink of ruin, redemption promised through a fiery cleansing. 

The festival ended with this piece. Rapid Pulse 17 (and Salazar Lermont) are presently on the road, stopping at Spreadart in Detroit and then Rosekill in New York. For more about the Rapid Pulse Tour, please click here.


Monday, June 5, 2017

Rapid Pulse 17: Day Three

Rapid Pulse 17: Day Three

Sarah Grabner's essays on Crocetta and Reese and Eli K. Gold can be seen by clicking on the names of the artists.



ATOM-r + Julia Pello
Sandrine Schaefer
Jess Dobkin
Shana Moulton
Endam Nihan
Andrei Venghiac


Since I began the blog post with the end of the evening for RP17 Day 2, it seems appropriate to continue that way for the remaining two nights of the festival, especially since the artists responsible for stŬ have worked so hard to make such good food that is served up beautifully. JGV/WAR's offering was a chickpea curry, served over rice, with toppings of fresh cilantro and homemade mango chutney. It was accompanied by nan with a hint of anise. This time I took a picture of my bowl before I ate it. I wish I could have had this for breakfast on Sunday morning as well. My advice to future Rapid Pulse attendees is to bring along your own tupperware container since there are usually leftovers.


Lucky Pierre/Michael Thomas American Slut

The third day of Rapid Pulse kicked off with Michael Thomas/Lucky Pierre's offsite performance American Slut. The performance took place at Thomas's studio on Fulton Street, about a 25 minute walk from Defibrillator. Fulton Street is located in the industrial area of Chicago. Walking to Thomas's studio from the Ashland Subway stop, I was struck by the degree to which most of the businesses appeared to be outdated relics from a different era and how deserted the streets were. The neighborhood looked a lot more like small town Ohio, where the steel industry is only a faint memory, than it did like Chicago, a rapidly expanding global capitalist city. Thomas's studio, which was a long distance from the Ashland stop (the nearest stop), felt like a final outpost, slated for destruction but in the meantime hanging on, its denizens continuing to use the space for as long as they could continue doing so. The performance that unfolded American Slut, also felt like it was a long distance from what the world is today. As Thomas's succinct description of the piece that is posted on his website states, it includes "The American Sniper, Pasties, Guns, Madonna, refreshments."

Thomas is a founder and member of the collective Lucky Pierre. For Rapid Pulse 2012 and again in 2017 he performed work that he devised himself. He did employ an actor, Alex Stein, for American Slut, which was part of the reason that the performance was offered twice in one day (5 p.m. and again at 9 p.m.). Stein was only available on Saturday evening as he was busy filming a movie. 

At the 5 p.m. performance, people slowly trickled into the space, after walking up a flight of stairs and through several artist's studios. Thomas/Lucky Pierre has a very large studio, which was taken up by a table cum runway around which people sat. Refreshments were provided and most people were drinking wine or beer when the performance begin. placed at one end of the table was a binder with the title tenure review on the cover. The performance began with Thomas seating himself in front of the binder and beginning to read from its pages. The title tenure review has academic associations with which many of us are familiar--generally it implies the dossier that one has compiled prior to applying for tenure, which gives the applicant job security. But in this case it was unclear what Thomas was applying for and why he was applying. The review began with an imagined interrogation of Chris Kyle, the deadliest marksman in history and the subject of the book and movie American Sniper. In between asking Kyle why he made the movie and wrote the book, Thomas asked him to take off all of his clothes. The tenure review turned out to be a kind of stream of consciousness rant of truth and half truths--the names were real, Thomas really is gay (?), and David Foster Wallace (who was also mentioned) and Chris Kyle really existed. But Thomas was never an academic, and never applied for tenure. So perhaps the "tenure review" was meant to be a review of his tenure as an artist, a queer (who was told that he wasn't queer enough), and a social activist. It was a review laced with queer desire, some Madonna (as promised in the description), and an implicit challenge to the toxic class-based masculinities. Thomas's desire was clearly for Kyle. Wallace, the subject of a posthumous movie, perhaps served as Thomas's amanuenses. 



A lot happened in the performance. In no particular order: Thomas read from his tenure review, he passed out multiple photographs of two images, one of Chris Kyle, the other of what looked like a close up of skin cancer, after reading captions that indicated that each of these photographs was linked to a specific time and place in his life. He then gave the audience many more photographs, which were spread all over the table. He donned an S&M type blindfold, and then walked along the table to the other side while holding onto the hands of the audience. He read again from his tenure review once he reached the opposite side of the table. He crossed the table again to unroll a large oil cloth banner that read "Beautiful Photo" and covered the table. At some point his pants came off, and he danced back across the table to the strains of Borderline by Madonna revealing glittery star pasties that were underneath his shirt. Thomas seemingly plucked a random audience member from the audience to join him. This turned out to be Alex Stein. An exchange ensued between the two. Stein held a plastic rifle over his head, becoming Chris Kyle. Stein asked if he really had to take off his shorts (he had already taken off his pants). When told he did not, Stein reversed the exchange. Taking a seat at the end of the table, he repeated the dialogue from the beginning of the performance. The piece concluded, more or less, with Stein removing two more star pasties that Thomas has placed on his t shirt while he held the rifle earlier. Stein closed the book and the tenure review was over. 

The Lucky Pierre website home page includes a quotation from Antonio Gramsci: 

The crisis consists precisely of the fact that the old is dying and new cannot be born; in this interregnum a great number of morbid symptoms appear.

This quotation, from which Thomas/Lucky Pierre has taken the title of his upcoming gallery show/performance at Roman Susan Gallery June 10-30,  can apply as well to American Slut, a performance about queerness that finds itself in a strange place of the queer and not so queer, the past and the future, and the interregnum in which all seems chaotic. In a tenure review that is never resolved or passed, Thomas asks us to consider where we are going and what we want to become.

Alison Crocetta and Peter Reese

Crocetta and Reese initially performed On and On in the Electrodes Window Gallery at the first DFB location in 2014. For Rapid Pulse 17, they became a living music box. Standing on an elegant spinning platform with handles that they used to turn themselves, the artists, dressed simply in matching brown clothing with metal megaphones attached to their heads, sang the the song that never ends. 

We started singing it aware of what it was
And we'll continue singing it forever just because
This is the song that never ends
It just goes on and on my friends

No one knew when and if the song actually ended as the audience was asked to leave after about 45 minutes. It was an understated and elegant piece that addressed duration, the voice, longing, and desire without anything much happening.


Sarah Grabner on Crocetta and Reese

Eli K Gold

For Rapid Pulse 17, Eli K Gold, or Eli Kabir, set up a border checkpoint in the basement of Rapid Pulse. In this case the border crossed was that of the festival. Audience members who left the Crocetta and Reese performance were asked to walk out to the back of the building where they were confronted by a border patrol agent and a barking dog wearing a vest that said "working dog." As people walked past the "agent" they were told to not pet the dog, and commanded to wait quietly in the holding area. Eventually the audience was told to walk single file down the basement steps, where they again were asked to wait in a long underground corridor. One by one, people were called forward and asked to produce their driver's license or some other form of id. They were questioned about their participation in the festival and their knowledge of DFB and either permitted to enter the basement proper or told to return to the back of the line. Unlike people who are actually detained or are refugees, the audience members were able to leave at any time. But the entire process showed the degree to which we as a group comply with those in authority as well as suggesting the completely arbitrary nature of who is, and who is not, admitted.



Sarah Grabner on Eli K. Gold

Video Program: Re-Imagining/Re-Imaging

ATOM-r and Julia Pello, Sandrine Schaefer, Jess Dobkin, Shana Moulton, Endam Nihan, Andrei Venghiac

The Video Program for Day 2 was much lighter than the previous evening. It kicked off with the sumptuous Kjell Theøry (pictured below) by ATOM-r and Julia Pello. Other highlights included Jess Dobkin's singing vagina/Neil Diamond. For more information on the video series, click here.













Saturday, June 3, 2017

Rapid Pulse 17: Day Two


Rapid Pulse 17: Day Two

Sara Grabner's essays on Ayana Evans and Industry of the Ordinary can be viewed by clicking on the names of the artists.


Jeffrey Byrd
Francisco-Fernando Granados
Jon John
Lechedevirgen Trimegisto 



Today's blog post on Rapid Pulse 17 starts backwards with the end, rather than the beginning of the festivities at 7 p.m. because up until now the artists responsible for stŬ, the vegetarian soup/stew served at the end of evening to encourage the exchange of ideas and conversations between attendees as they sit together at large trestle tables. Last night's  stŬ, created by John Burkholder and Jessica Bortman was particularly good: a broccoli soup poured over a generous amount of quinoa and flavored with Parmesan cheese, lemon, and toasted pine nuts. I shared some of my ideas about an article I am in the process of writing with my table mates and in return received some terrific suggestions about affinities and correspondences that I plan to incorporate. I don't know if I was able to do the same for my companions, but their input was appreciated. 
 stŬ was served in a ceramic bowl that set off the lovely green color of the broccoli. I was so anxious to eat my portion that I forgot to photograph it. So I have provided a photograph of broccoli instead. 

Ayana Evans: Operation Catsuit (Be Careful Drinking the Kool Aid)

Ayana Evans knows how to entertain an audience and her performance didn't disappoint. A combination of hip hop, southern revivalism, and Kool Aid, it started with a bang, or at least a mini explosion. At approximately 7:30, a striped white, black, and yellow truck, playing Kanye West as loud as the speakers would permit, pulled up to the front of the gallery with Evans in the back. Garbed in her trademark fluorescent yellow zebra (?) striped catsuit and sparkly high heeled gold sandals, make up and hair just so with a white flower as an accent, Evans handed out water balloons and, at the count of 3, had everyone throw them as hard as they could at the ground. 


Beginning of Ayana Evans' performance

Once in the gallery, Evans quickly organized the audience members onto four benches that made two rows of people facing each other with knees touching and hands clasped. After donning a pair of soft socks, Evans dove fearlessly into each of the human hand chutes and slithered her way from one end to the other while a soundtrack of Kanye and Grandmaster Flash played in the background (not loud enough for Evans's taste, but as loud as the techs could manage).




Recovering quickly, Evans reorganized the audience and the benches/pews so that they surrounded her as she began to mix Kool Aid with abandon and generous portions of sugar poured directly from the bag. Cups were passed around and filled, and Evans prepared for her final tableaux. Calling for volunteers to help, Evans moved the table on which the Kool Aid had been made, plugged in some Christmas tree lights, wrapped them around her hands and arms, and then attempted a handstand/wall climb against the interactive wall installation by Diaz Lewis (more on that below). By this time the floor was slippery with spilled Kool Aid and the fuzzy socks were creating traction problems. More volunteers came forward, and Evans was finally able to balance successfully against the wall. On the count of three, the audience drank their Kool Aid. 


Photos and Videos taken by the author. For better photos, see Evans' website: https://www.ayanaevans.com/

Sarah Grabner on Ayana Evans

Industry of the Ordinary: Plato's Man Cave

Note: There will be a separate essay on Industry of the Ordinary by Sarah Grabner posted in about two weeks. Please check back.

Plato's Man Cave--Clothes by Men's Warehouse. Photo taken from Industry of the Ordinary Facebook Page.

Industry of the Ordinary is a collaborative team of Adam Brook and Matthew Wilson. The following is an excerpt from the statement provided for Rapid Pulse 17. The entire statement can be found here.

Through sculpture, text, photography, video and performance, Industry of the Ordinary (IOTO) are dedicated to an exploration and celebration of the customary, the everyday, and the usual. Their emphasis is on challenging pejorative notions of the ordinary and, in doing so, moving beyond the quotidian.




For Rapid Pulse 17, Industry of the Ordinary set up a bar in the garage behind the gallery--a perfect location for a man cave. Garbed in matching tuxes from Men's Warehouse (the bags were hanging on the wall opposite), Brook and Wilson required that everyone wishing to partake of a cup of beer (India Pale Ale, a keg of which was donated to the Festival) receive an arm stamp (the stamp could go anywhere but fit best on the arm). The choices were EVERYBODY HATES and A TOURIST. Most people opted for both stamps.



An eclectic mix of music could be heard playing softly in the background. Periodically Industry of the Ordinary would announce the name of a president--it turned out that the music was the Presidential Playlist of the last 11presidents by Spotify. The performance, a disturbing mixture of high brow and low brow that suggested the same contradictory appeal of most of the U.S. Presidents, ended with Industry of the Ordinary taking down the Men's Warehouse bags and exiting the space, as debonaire at the end as they were at the beginning. They left behind the question, stamped on on many participants bodies, as to who was a tourist, who was hated, and who was not. We will never know.

Sarah Grabner on Industry of the Ordinary


Díaz Lewis


34,000 Pillows. Image taken from http://diaz-lewis.tumblr.com/34000Pillows
Díaz Lewis is a collaborative team of Alejandro Figueredo Díaz-Perera and Cara Megan Lewis. Partners in life as well as art, the couple met in 2012, he from Cuba and she from the U.S./Chicago. Their work has always been concerned with negotiating the divide between their two respective countries. For Rapid Pulse 14, their performance The Other's Voice addressed this separation, with Díaz-Perera literally flying into Chicago and traveling straight to the gallery space for the performance, in which the two faced each other across the gallery entrance and washed their respective flags until the colors faded. In the current political climate, the issue of borders, immigration, who has the right to be in the U.S. and who does not has taken on new urgency. In 2016, Díaz Lewis launched 34,000 Pillows. Inspired by the "bed quota," the mandate the U.S. Customs and Immigration maintain of 34,000 detained immigrants a day in its 250 facilities passed by Congress, Díaz Lewis created an installation/performance in which pillows are created daily from clothing that belonged to undocumented immigrants, poor detainees, and their allies. The pillows go for $159 apiece--the daily cost of detaining one undocumented immigrant. 10% of all profits goes to organizations that help immigrants. While the charitable aspect of the performance installation is certainly laudable, the power of the piece comes from the piles of pillows, made from clothing that has clearly seen better times. The pillows are very individual--like the people who once wore them as clothing. They remind us that the undocumented immigrants are human too. And these pillows, the making of which requires a lot of volunteer labor, take up a lot of gallery space. And yet even if they were to fill the gallery, there would not be 34,000 of them--an almost inconceivable number.


Díaz Lewis's performance installation for Rapid Pulse 17 was equally subtle, aesthetically beautiful and conceptually powerful. A moveable wall, painted so that it matched the gallery wall and anchored in the center by an axis/pole around which it spun was installed prior to the festival. The wall, which started out looking very pristine, recalled minimal and post-minimal art, particularly work that interfaces or interrupts the flow of traffic within the space, such as Sarah Oppenheimer's S-337433 installed in 2017 in the Wexner Center in Columbus, Ohio, which also spins on two axis.


And of course, given the events of the past few months, it also recalled the border wall between the U.S. and Mexico, a wall that the current President has promised to reinforce and build up. 

For the performance portion of the event, the artists conscripted people of many different nationalities to push the wall in a circle, all the while attempting to negotiate this movement in their native language. The result was that by the evening's end the pristine grey wall had become cracked and broken, leaning drunkenly around the axis/pole that supported it. The wall might not be perfect anymore, but on the other hand, large groups of people who came from different countries, cultures, and in some cases ethnic affiliations were about to cause the wall to orbit around the gallery many times. The performance installation turned out to be a deceptively simple plan for how we (as humans living on this world) might proceed into the future.



The Video Program: Metaphor With or Without Recourse

The video program curated by Giana Gambino was incredibly powerful. Dedicated to Jon John, whose final performance/video made before he succumbed to cancer was included in the program, the content was heavy without a loss of levity. Jon John's video was filled with love, and he ended the piece smiling and laughing as he greeted the audience. Jeffery Byrd's contribution, which shows him walking slowly across the salt flats in Utah, garbed in a football uniform and holding a bunch of balloons was transcendent. The most powerful piece for me at least, was Lechedevirgen Trimegisto's/ Felipe Orsonio's The Blood Tree, which deals with his kidney failure and need for dialysis. In excruciating detail, the video show Orsonio being hooked up to dialysis so that his blood can be purified. In the second part of the video, framed as though he is a tree he reads a poem in which he compares himself to a bleeding tree of life, a popular motif in Mexico. The video is really hard to watch (or at least it was for me) but it was really powerful. Giana Gambino's excellent essay on these videos is available here. If you click on the image of the Tree of Life below, you can access Lechedevirgen Trimegisto's The Blood Tree

 The Blood Tree















Thursday, June 1, 2017

Rapid Pulse 17: Vernissage

Rapid Pulse International Performance Festival 17: Day 1


The display of posters, t-shirts, and tote bags from the 5 previous years of Rapid Pulse International Performance Art Festival, which first took place in June 2012. This year, Rapid Pulse/Defibrillator is having a raffle, with one of the prizes being a complete set of posters, shirts and totes similar to the display picture here. Photo Credit goes to Defibrillator, from whose Instragram account this picture was shamelessly plagiarized by the author.


2017 hasn't been a great year for alternative art institutions, most of which are dependent upon a combination of federal, state, and local funding to keep afloat. Just last week, the current president of the United States, or POTUS, released the official budget for 2018, and the news is rather dire: the proposed budget calls for the elimination of the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH), and the Institute of Museum and Library Services (IMLS). While, as Blair Murphy writes in an article posted recently for the online art magazine Hyperallergic, the fate of these organizations is still up in the air, it does seem likely that some cuts are inevitable, and vulnerable institutions will either disappear or have to operate in a drastically reduced capacity. The elimination of the NEA would essentially destroy the foundation of the country's funding network, leaving arts organizations, particularly those located in rural areas that already have less access to additional private and public funding, very vulnerable. 

The Rapid Pulse International Performance Art Festival is hosted by Defibrillator/DFBRL8R Gallery, founded by the artist Joseph Ravens in 2010 as a platform for experimental performance art. In 2013 it was awarded a tax exempt status. Nevertheless, DFB, as it is affectionately called by those of us who can't spell either of the longer options without looking them up first, has struggled to stay afloat. Originally housed in 1136 North Milwaukee, the DFB gallery was relocated to 1463 West Chicago Avenue in 2015. Operating a gallery where there isn't really much of anything to sell is tough. Earlier this year, Ravens/DFB was forced to post an impassioned plea for donations via twitter, Facebook and email, asking patrons to donate money so that they could pay their back rent and continue to provide alternative programming to the art community. Incredibly, current and former patrons of DFB came through. Ravens was able to pay the rent and the gallery, along with the festival, is still in business. 

It is thus little wonder that the Vernissage, or opening ceremony for the festival, was particularly festive and crowded. The theme of this year's festival, which almost didn't happen,  was "Retrospect," and the audience, comprised of long time Rapid Pulse attendees and past presenters, was retrospective and very glad to be there. By the time Ravens and his assistant director and video curator Giana Gambino walked up on the stage the gallery was packed with revelers, who enthusiastically applauded the two, who have once again managed to produce what promises to be another amazing festival. Gambino has expanded the video portion to include a loop of new work by Rapid Pulse alums that plays throughout the festival. This selection, which was available for viewing during the Vernissage, is worth taking the time to watch. Particularly noteworthy are Tori Wrånes' mythological creature singing on a moving car against a desert background (Desert Troll Technique in collaboration with Skylar Haskard, 2016) and Beverly Fre$h's tribute to Mountain Dew, made in a tiny town in either Minnesota or Michigan (The Sweet, Sweet Mindew, 2013). Also noteworthy was Scott N. Andrew's Narcissister is You (2013), a rather appalling video of a hirsute man with pierced nipples taking a bath while wearing a Narcissister mask and covering his genitals with another mask, no doubt intended for submission to the Narcissister is U, an ongoing community project sponsored by the REAL Narcissister. 

The evening concluded with an inspiring lecture by Jefferson Pinder, a 2017 recipient of the Guggenheim Fellowship for Creative Arts, a professor of art at the School of the Art Institute in Chicago, and an alum of the 2013 iteration of Rapid Pulse, for which he performed Magical Negro. Pinder's work, which engages with minimalist performances of Afro-Futurism, physical endurance, and blackness, is both humorous and thought provoking. The same could be said for his talk, in which he praised his students for moments of brilliance, acknowledge how hard it was to produce an event such as Rapid Pulse, and gave the audience several "take aways" from his experience as a Marine, which he decided to do rather than enroll in college. Wearing a very small dress jacket that he could no longer fasten around his middle, Pinder praised the Marines for teaching him discipline and how to own his choices, even as he acknowledged that he wasn't a very good Marine. Pinder's experience in the Marines helped to make him the person that he is today, and even though the dress jacket no longer fits (Pinder is a very trim man, but clearly had not finished growing when he enlisted), Pinder continues to wear that jacket, a tangible indication of his former self, into the identity of his new self. 

Pinder's talk suggested the importance of retrospection as a means by which one can continue to develop and grow as an artist and as a person. It will be exciting to see how the artists performing on Friday, Saturday and Sunday have evolved from their initial performances at earlier version of Rapid Pulse. 









Thursday, June 16, 2016

Rapid Pulse International Performance Festival 2016: Day 5


IN SITU

WINDOW

Danilo Bracchi
Michiko Saiki
Pedro Matias
Roos Hoffman

GALLERY

STU
Mothergirl


Jim Bachor: The Pothole Artist



Much if not most of the Rapid Pulse programming in the past five years has been focused on artists who perform in the art gallery or alternative spaces. Very rarely have they addressed what Gregory Sholette has termed the dark matter of the contemporary art work--those artists and collectives who cheerfully and willingly operate under the radar of the art world. Sholette's dark matter (which is the title of his 2010 book as well) is a diverse lot--art that flies under the radar of the art world because it never shows up in blockbuster exhibitions, art fairs, and biennales. Dark Matter can be something as overlooked as the work of small town painters exhibited at the local library, or as central to the crafting of visual political language as the work of the artists collectives that Sholette covers in his book.  Jim Bachor's street mosaics function as sort of a gentle and understated dark matter--a one man solution to combatting potholes and beautifying the city by replacing the missing blacktop with exquisitely crafted mosaics. It is a bit of a stretch to consider Bachor's work performance art, although Bachor was certainly one of the most interesting and entertaining artists to participate in the Festival. Bachor's performance in this case was to carefully install a tile mosaic into a pothole around the corner from DFB that was fabricated using a technique that is literally thousands of years old and dates back to ancient Rome and the Byzantine Empire. Bachor, who has a background in art history and commercial art making, credits his experience on an archaeological dig in Pompeii with the inspiration to work in mosaics. 

Bachor has made a number of pothole mosaics (those interested can use this map to find them) and has a well-earned reputation for both the potholes mosaics and the larger public art commissions that he has done such as his 2014 Run Chi in a commercial space in Michigan Avenue. Bachor also sells his mosaics through his web site. It is thus particularly noteworthy and generous that he offers these mosaics, many of which depict ice cream treats, to anyone who is walking by on the street. By the time I arrived to watch Bachor work, he was almost finished with the installation. What was great was that there were more people who lived in the neighborhood than people from Rapid Pulse, and Bachor was able to simultaneously joke with his audience and continue the painstaking work of installing the mosaic. 
Jim Bachor. This is Not a Pothole anymore. Northeast corner of Michigan Avenue and Chicago, 2015.

Edra Soto: Architectural Interventions
Edra Soto. Graft DFB Window. 2015

Meanwhile in the window of DFB, artist and architect Edra Soto was also asking the audience to think about the process of making art rather than the finished product. With painstaking care, Soto literally graphed/grafted a grid onto the large glass windows of the gallery. Soto, who collaborates with her husband Dan Sullivan on The Franklin, an outdoor project space that they co-direct, has done several iteration of Graft, which references the ubiquitous iron screens of Soto's native Puerto Rico. Graft, which can take the form of a literal wooden structure or a structure suggested through adhesive metallic tape, references these post-colonial, Spanish-inspired iron fences that allowed for both security and cross ventilation. As Albert Stabler points out, Soto's Graft represents the indoor/outdoor architectural spaces that are fenced off by structures known as rejas. Stabler, whose essay is reproduced on Soto's website, questions what it means to transpose these structures to the mainland U.S. For her window performance at Rapid Pulse International Performance Festival 2016, it meant that the elegant, Arabic Spanish curlicues and patterns were transformed into a metallic grid that divided and organized the window space. The laborious process was only completed with the help of several volunteers who stepped in to ensure that Soto's window grid was completed. The obvious labor of the installation suggested the labor--and work--that was brought to bear on the colonization of Puerto Rico. For those audience members who were not able to see the final version of Graft at DFB, another version of Graft will be on display at the Western stop on the train line to O'Hare.

Vela Oma: Technologies of the Self

Vela Oma's Interdimensional Psychic Apparatus was a visceral tour de force, an electronic and sensory assault on the collection of witnesses/audience that gathered around him in a circle to watch what was described as a "video alter action which will attempt to conjure together several multiverse ids, egos, and superegos of myself in a small precious fragment of our time." Vela Oma's actions took place against a background of electronic music, sounds and phantasmic projections on the walls of pre-Columbian Deities, space-ship structures, futuristic graphs/diagrams, and television footage from the previous century. The futuristic, sci-fi projections were balanced by a low tech diagram that was taped onto the floor. 

The performance was a combination of high technology and base humanity. The performance began with Oma, garbed in black shoes, loose pants, and a black hoodie, shuffling into his soundscape/techno-scape installation that had been on view for approximately an hour prior to the start of the performance. The installation was pristine, futuristic--the superego of Vela Oma's psychic landscape, and the performance was the id. Oma turned on a radio and then proceeded to break up and destroy all of the objects that had been placed discreetly around the space. A bottle of whiskey was upended and poured over his head. A bag of licorice roots that Oma had attached to his waist was emptied and broken up--chewed, pounded, and pulverized. Everything was smashed, soaked, and broken, including the radio that was stuffed into a metal bucket. The performance concluded with Oma, hood and shoes removed, sweeping up the remains of the frenzy and carefully removing the labyrinth/diagram that had been taped to the floor, removing in essence the traces of himself/ego. The performance was stunning, a sort of futuristic scenario in which the technology reinforced, rather than denied, the inescapable fact that humans are still animals, with all of the base instincts that this implies. 




Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Rapid Pulse International Performance Festival 2016: Artist Suz Evans on Nabeela Vega/Thahab







Sunrise is Four forty
Glimpse gold glistening veil in the periphery; prelude. still shimmers and sways, still bounces the light like their ever changing eyeballs. Thahab, projecting infinite colors, steps into a Lyft.

A few interns, curator and Elaine are ready too. The shopping cart sloshing water buckets the curator says Oops and giggles wet with holy water. How many trips it took to fill that kiddie pool, not not trying to not to get people wet. Thahab wanders away, making a trail in their path.

They say ‘it’s Ramadan,’ in a store with undercurrent of prayers playing through small suspended speakers, a store with many objects but not a disposable camera. Into the sun
Stay gold stay gold stay golden - slow walk down the street. Cars stop for them differently - with more space and less drag, wheels silenced by the disco reflections bouncing off windshields. (Thahab is too much fun for you.)

Still gold stay gold stay golden
Still gold stay gold stay golden
Still gold stay gold stay golden

In a doorway next to the gallery, playing Queer Muslim on soundcloud, lighting candles and smoke bombs under the veil. the colorful smoke seeps out of the fabric; maps the spaces one cannot locate with their eyes. Are witnesses locating Thahab in a shallow media understanding of terrorism, and myself too yes?

Kissed me in, through the gold, the sun (Thahab) is on the rise. Pressure of tongue scratchy on bare lips, curve and dip of their facial planes. Peculiar mixture of exhilaration, exhibition, sexuality and shame. ( eye - I am ) xenophobic, lover, source of oppression, administer of love. Afraid of it and into it. Thahab (the sun) is on the rise and smells like smoke bombs.

Sprays on their feet together which makes this symbol, a mark of their tense, ritual call  

Kiddie pool on the sidewalk. Gold curtains veil the gallery doors. Chalk on the side alley wall. Queer Muslim playing from the speaker. Traces of their annointments; glitter trail, spray, smoke, altar candles. Thahab travels, losing sight of them briefly as they reappear (the sun) several blocks away; still gold. Glitter trails from their body. A man sweeps some into the street.

Sun still rising sitting in the window of the pie shop and eating delicious pie, two people take cellphone pictures of Thahab from outside. Goes to the pool, sits on a stool in the middle of the pool. It’s too hot, they get in. lounging w Elaine and Maria (who brings pizza beer and cigarettes)
Passersby are into it (it’s fucking hot outside, water looks great, a human relief overcomes confusion of surreal mirage in this instance)

Sun (Thahab) has peaked, wanders into the park? About and throughout the quiet neighborhood, people move out of the way and stare a bit. Watching people watch them, they are both respected and feared, sparking curiosity. The gold veil is real, it is art and not art, Thahab is rn, serious spectacular. Goes to the gallery, tall gold curtains hang and blow in the entrance. They step inside, turn on Queer Muslim playlist, introduce a wig of long black hair. Can only see their hands, Thahab strokes the hair behind the secondary golden veil, shines, moving with wind. The gesture continues for some time as a small audience accrues, sun begins descent.

Thahab rips down the curtains.

Back to the park, some people watch basketball and Thahab watching basketball.

Selfies with people maybe that will become a snapchat, digital relics untrackable.

Return to the pool on the sidewalk. People eat Cuban dinner as Thahab steps into the water, staying golden. Passersby ask questions, evening brings a different approach. What are you doing? Skeptical curious. Thahab explains, ‘mirage, surreal, xenophobia, durational, dusk to dawn, come in,’’ intimate moments hand in hand; friends, artists come into the pool, Thahab anoints the wrist with fragrant oil - Rose oil? They move their cheeks up to Thahab’s gold figure to listen to their voice. Get wet together, mirage together. People standing in line outside Beauty Bar wondering what the hell, having a collective experience of confusion and curiosity on golden veiled figure wading in pentagonal kiddie pool. some folks are taking cellphone images of Thahab from inside the glass walled entry of the bar, space of six feet maybe, but glass wall is enough separation. Some strange visibility metaphor is happening rn..

Almost sun down Thahab lets water out of the pool, presses out the inflation and walks back to the gallery. They meet a few folks in the side alley wall, but their chalk drawings (which have grown since) Thahab provides sparklers as the sun sets, plays music and Bowtie is dancing and we are smiling as they unveil.

Suz Evans is interested in distinguishing patterns of gendered behavior and thought through absurd social gestures.