Marina Abramovic's 64-day performance at the Serpentine Gallery in Hyde Park is now in its second week, and so far, the public seems on side. Fresh-faced visitors line up daily to enter the silent sanctuary where the superstar performance artist urges them to take a deep breath and reconnect with their inner selves.
On opening morning (June 11), I watched Abramovic gently single out a handful of visitors, lead them to a platform, and ask them in a hushed tone to stand still with their eyes closed. She then led others one by one to a wall, whispering sweet nothings in their ear ("Ten minutes"), and left them standing.
A few frills have since been added to the inaugural routine, (according to Abramovic's midnight accounts of each day's performance, uploaded to the Serpentine web site). People are occasionally asked to walk backwards holding a mirror up to their face. Or they're told to count grains of rice. Mostly, though, viewers are left to their own devices.
Marina Abramovic has shaped and reshaped performance art since the 1970s through a succession of self-sacrificial rituals of which her Serpentine performance is only the latest example. She has stabbed and cut herself, exposed the naked reality of her relationship, and lived in a gallery for days, in full public view. For her last performance in 2010, she sat in a flowing robe inside the atrium of New York's Museum of Modern Art every day, gazing at visitors who took turns sitting opposite her. The performance made her a celebrity with cool new friends (Lady Gaga, Jay-Z). (See my piece in The Economist: http://www.economist.com/news/books-and-arts/21604076-marina-abramovic-puts-herself-display-london-busy-doing-nothing.)
Compared to her previous shows, the Serpentine performance seems, so far, to be underwhelming. Why? Because instead of the protagonist being the charismatic Abramovic, it's you. By turning the tables on her audience, the Belgrade-born artist has, for the first time, made her work somewhat banal. Admittedly, this is only Week Two. Her performance is to be judged over time, and she has invited critics to come back in the final stretch. So I'll be returning in late August, if not before. Stay tuned. (Marina Abramovic: 512 Hours ends Aug. 25.)
On opening morning (June 11), I watched Abramovic gently single out a handful of visitors, lead them to a platform, and ask them in a hushed tone to stand still with their eyes closed. She then led others one by one to a wall, whispering sweet nothings in their ear ("Ten minutes"), and left them standing.
A few frills have since been added to the inaugural routine, (according to Abramovic's midnight accounts of each day's performance, uploaded to the Serpentine web site). People are occasionally asked to walk backwards holding a mirror up to their face. Or they're told to count grains of rice. Mostly, though, viewers are left to their own devices.
Marina Abramovic has shaped and reshaped performance art since the 1970s through a succession of self-sacrificial rituals of which her Serpentine performance is only the latest example. She has stabbed and cut herself, exposed the naked reality of her relationship, and lived in a gallery for days, in full public view. For her last performance in 2010, she sat in a flowing robe inside the atrium of New York's Museum of Modern Art every day, gazing at visitors who took turns sitting opposite her. The performance made her a celebrity with cool new friends (Lady Gaga, Jay-Z). (See my piece in The Economist: http://www.economist.com/news/books-and-arts/21604076-marina-abramovic-puts-herself-display-london-busy-doing-nothing.)
Compared to her previous shows, the Serpentine performance seems, so far, to be underwhelming. Why? Because instead of the protagonist being the charismatic Abramovic, it's you. By turning the tables on her audience, the Belgrade-born artist has, for the first time, made her work somewhat banal. Admittedly, this is only Week Two. Her performance is to be judged over time, and she has invited critics to come back in the final stretch. So I'll be returning in late August, if not before. Stay tuned. (Marina Abramovic: 512 Hours ends Aug. 25.)