Well, here's the thing. Last night I also saw, or was subjected to, the very opposite of Requiem. I'm not going to go into detail about who, what or where, because though it was almost unbearably terrible, it was innocent, and I'm sure well-intentioned; and it was free, so what can you do. It was intended to be some kind of artistic "happening" that brought together musicians, dancers, poets, and performance artists. Sounds kinda cool, right? But oh... First a stunningly un-Native American poet came out and intoned a poem by a Sioux holy man while a taiko drummer waved his drum sticks importantly in the air. Then a musician came out and made random noises on a flute and moaned while two modern dancers tried to get inspired. Then a contact improv duo came out and did some random contact improv while the musician continued to emote. Then something remotely interesting happened. Three guys with homemade speakers on their backs. They were attached to each other by 15' aircraft cable, which they sawed at with cello bows. There were sound pickups attached the cables, so as they sawed it made bizarre electrified groans in various pitches. They could change the pitch by leaning and pulling on each other in different ways. I have no idea what it signified, but it was unique, and thus somewhat interesting, until the contact improv-ers started to contact improv in and around their cables, and it just got weird and kind of awkward. Then the drummer came back out, with a friend drummer and drummed for a really long time while the poor dancers tried to keep it up and find some sort of meaningful movement to go with the endless banging. Then everybody came out and did their things all at once in an immense cacophony while the poet did another poem by the Sioux holy man, and then the drum-guy, who sort of seemed to be in charge, went crazy and then made everybody stop. And at last it was over and we could go sit down and watch Requiem.
As I said it was innocent, and naive, and well-intentioned, and several of the performers were obviously fairly skilled, but it had no shape, no context, and no perceivable point beyond satisfying the artists need to make "art". And it begged several questions. First of all, it made me wonder what gives people the right to inflict their art on others. All we were told was that there was a pre-Requiem performance - we had no way to know what it was until we got there, and once there, we felt coerced by the situation to watch them and somehow show our approval for their desire to perform - the kind of "they're so brave, we have to support them" mentality. They weren't brave, they were self-indulgent. Is there a God-given right to present art, and does it go no farther than that we all have the right to express our idea of art and force the rest of us to watch? Maybe coercion is too strong a word - I suppose I could have just left and waited until it was over, but the social pressure to stand there and watch this trainwreck out of respect for the performers was overwhelming. But why? This performance was about nothing, and gave nothing to anybody but the performers. It's something I see far too often - people "being true" to themselves and their art, which really stands for rampart self-indulgence and public, yes, masturbation.
I don't suppose there's anything new about this, or anything to be done about it. It's a free country, after all, and there's no way that we could have artistic arbiters who could really determine what art should and should not be seen. That would be the worse kind of censorship. But maybe there is a place for considerate self-censorship. Ultimately, I guess it makes me want to urge all artists to keep asking themselves, Why am I doing this? And if the answer is more about how it makes you feel than what you are trying to give to others, think twice.
When I was at ASP, I often argued that I didn't really think the individual artists mattered as much as WHAT we made for our audience. I got into a boatload of trouble for that belief, often. It is distinctly un-warm and un-fuzzy, though I'm not saying that the people don't matter, not at all. Without people willing to do it, often for little tangible reward for all the time and energy, there wouldn't be any art. It's just that they serve the ART, not the other way round. I still believe it. It's what made Requiem so transcendent. I guess it makes me a bit of zealot, but it's what I think.
Oh, and the guys who played the crazy cable/speaker three-man walking instrument thingy: These guys: They were pretty cool so I don't mind blowing their cover.
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