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Historically, performance art was an activity that largely eschewed the mechanisms of the art market and throughout its development – especially<br />
during the 1960s and 70s – was driven by radical political protest. Anti-government and anti-capitalist, many artists personified the popular<br />
phrase of the time, ‘the personal is political’. The slippery nature of the medium has meant a great deal of significant early performance art works<br />
transpired outside institutional contexts – in studios, public spaces, commercial and artist-led spaces. Ephemera, personal accounts, video and<br />
photographic documentation have since been utilised to write performance into mainstream art history (and therefore into the collections of large<br />
institutions) but until recently the live encounter has been absent.<br />
Performance art has become increasingly visible internationally.<br />
Contemporary art galleries such as Tate Modern in London and New York’s<br />
Museum of Modern Art have been instituting Performance Art departments,<br />
hosting symposia and acquiring performance works for their collections since<br />
the late 1990s. A number of Australian institutions, whilst not having<br />
dedicated collecting policies for performance, have also increasingly engaged<br />
performance artists in their programs1. Klaus Biesenbach, co-curator of 13<br />
Rooms and director of MoMA PS1, cites the responsibility of museums to<br />
conserve and historicise as a reason for initiating these departments at<br />
museums. Glenn D. Lowry, MoMA’s director, proudly described purchasing<br />
Tino Sehgal’s This Kiss as “one of the most elaborate and difficult acquisitions<br />
we’ve ever made.” Formerly a peripheral activity in the object-centred world of<br />
contemporary art, artists and institutions are now wrestling with the<br />
complexities of buying, selling and exhibiting performance, exploring how the<br />
transaction of an embodied, time-based form can be negotiated. Since artists<br />
have been experimenting with performance for over forty years, why the<br />
sudden interest? Twenty years ago it would be impossible for most museums<br />
to fathom collecting performance at all.<br />
1. Just like those Che Guevara t-shirts<br />
Art historian RoseLee Goldberg identifies a number of early examples of<br />
artists utilising the frame of the market in their work – ‘selling performance’<br />
– long before Sehgal’s lawyers got involved. Yves Klein’s Zone de Sensibilité<br />
Picturale Immatérielle [Zones of Immaterial Pictorial Sensibility] (1959–62),<br />
offered the experience of an empty space in exchange for gold, and Piero<br />
Manzoni’s Artist’s Breath (1960) and Artist’s Shit (1961) both marketed the<br />
corporeal output of the artist as a commodity – either exhalation into a<br />
balloon or excrement into a can. These works each stretched and subverted<br />
the boundaries of artist-market relations in a context where the future of<br />
rampant capitalisation wasn’t certain. Needless to say, times have changed,<br />
and economic contexts of artistic and political gestures have markedly<br />
different implications. Now, free-market capitalism has erupted, labour is<br />
increasingly flexible and precarious ideas are key objects of economic<br />
exchange. Where previously political subversion critiqued its own very<br />
participation in the market, we now operate in a subsumptive capitalism,<br />
where “nothing runs better on MTV than a protest against MTV” (Mark<br />
Fisher, Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative?)<br />
2. Flexibility reiGns<br />
Museums are increasingly finding new ways of integrating performance,<br />
along with discursive projects and publications, into their core activities.<br />
Curator Alex Farquharson calls this phenomenon ‘New Institutionalism’,<br />
where “exhibitions no longer preside over other types of activity … The<br />
‘new institution’ instead places equal emphasis on a range of other<br />
functions … This results in a redistribution of its resources, expressed both<br />
spatially and temporally in terms of how institutions’ hardware (their<br />
buildings) and software (their schedules) are apportioned.” It was sparked<br />
by a disparate cohort of independent curators, who, having previously<br />
produced various exhibitions and biennales independently, put down roots<br />
as directors of a number of key European institutions in the early 2000s. 2<br />
This new approach decentralises the hierarchies of object over idea and<br />
presentation over production, setting in motion the construction of a new<br />
conceptual space for performance to exist within the museum context.<br />
3. We heart outsourCinG<br />
In the 1990s, a new genre of performance art emerged – what art historian<br />
Claire Bishop describes as “‘delegated performance’: the act of hiring<br />
non-professionals or specialists in other fields to undertake the job of being<br />
present and performing at a particular time and a particular place on behalf<br />
of the artist, and following his/her instructions.” Often relying on ethnic,<br />
social, physical or cultural specificities in performers, these works rely on a<br />
contract or artist’s instructions, and the availability of suitable participants.<br />
Like re-enactment, which is similarly being explored by artists and curators<br />
attempting to grapple with this ephemeral form, Bishop argues that these<br />
forms have accelerated the institutionalisation of performance art, and<br />
facilitated its collectability.<br />
In an economy of ideas, where physical objects are secondary to experiential,<br />
transformative and knowledge-based offerings, selling performance is<br />
anything but counterintuitive. It becomes a somewhat irrelevant chickenor-the-egg<br />
question then, to consider whether the changing nature of art<br />
affects the market or vice versa. Australia is blessed and cursed by an<br />
invisible hand at play – the state and federal government funding bodies that<br />
keep the arts afloat. And we’ve been selling performance to them, in a way,<br />
for years. Perhaps the question is not why or how to sell performance, but<br />
who are we selling it to? It is the responsibility of artists to decide if their<br />
work should or should not be for sale, and making an income from art is just<br />
as important for performance artists as painters. But a painting doesn’t<br />
change colour once you decide to sell it. The immediacy and subversive<br />
potential of early performance art revelled in issues that are now being<br />
side- stepped, both by artists and collectors, in pursuit of a performance art<br />
that is less provisional than enduring. But to galvanise the marketplace into<br />
gambling on the value of a social exchange as if it might be a Pollock<br />
painting? Seems almost as crazy as buying a can of Manzoni’s shit.<br />
1. local positioning Systems, curated by performance Space at the Museum of contemporary art<br />
in 2012, was a program of seven live art and performance projects and power to the people curated<br />
by hannah Mathews at the australian centre for contemporary art Melbourne in 2011 included<br />
performance works as a key, ongoing element of the exhibition.<br />
2. Nicolas Bourriaud and Jerome Sans at palais de tokyo, paris and charles esche and Maria lind<br />
at the Witte de With, rotterdam are key examples.<br />
|•<br />
Agatha Gothe-Snape<br />
Every Artist Remembered<br />
with Barbara Campbell 2011<br />
Posca pen on arches paper,<br />
180 x 140 cm<br />
Image courtesy the artist and<br />
The Commercial Gallery, Sydney<br />
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