On Location 1: The Beach

I've recently been interested by the idea of the performance intervention, or how an intervention leaves very little trace after it happens. The intervention is a gesture that has an accidental audience at the time of capture and is usually documented as a still image after the fact. The viewers of the still image are a more considered audience and the intervention is re-enacted when the image is viewed as an encounter between the photograph and the viewer.

Taking advantage of Falmouth's varied scenery (rural, beach etc), I decided to start investigating this sense of intervention, by using elements of the absurd to intrude on the landscape. For my first investigation, I decided to go to the beach on one of the coldest days in January and have an impromptu beach party. The actions were simple – for instance trying to pour a glass of wine or blowing a party blower in front of the camera. Of course, I also dressed in a party hat, frilly shirt and bow tie.

There were two elements to this: firstly, it was the confidence to actually dress up and just 'do' something. Secondly, it was how well I could take these images by myself on location. I decided to use natural light and set the camera to a low ISO setting (200) to try and retain as much natural light as possible. I did plan more actions, such as popping party poppers, but it was so windy, it made it near impossible.

Beach Party Blower

What I love about these images is there are evidently other people on the beach, but they largely try and ignore what is happening. In fact, the 'accidental audience' met the actions with confusion and gave me a wide berth. Their dogs, however, were much more curious. I had many dogs running up to me and barking at me while their owners were very embarrassed and tried to shoo them away from me. This was especially difficult if I would set the timer on the camera, run for a pose and then have a dog running after me. I think people were also very suspicious of me. Some of them watched me to make sure I wasn't doing anything harmful or damaging – I was actually surprised at the level of concern at what appeared to me to be a completely ridiculous action.

Funnily enough, there were also other photographers on the beach who were trying to capture the waves and scenic landscape. I  found it interesting that they made a decision that was contrary to mine: they purposely chose not to have me in their frame because I was ruining their image of a picturesque beach in January. So in this way, there was an interesting photographic dichotomy going on that day. There was me who was deliberately trying to find the ridiculous, the unusual or the abnormal – in fact I was creating it, causing it. And on the other hand, the other photographers had made a decision to cut out this happening. I won't go so far as to say they weren't looking for the extraordinary – scenery in itself, or simply photographing the grey clouds could be considered just that – but they actively chose to move somewhere else on the beach to preserve its illusion of tranquility.

So a question arises here about which of the photographs is more deceitful: mine for constructing a happening to be documented, or theirs for making a choice not to document something that was happening as simultaneously as the beautiful clouds and rolling waves?

Out To Sea

After a while, the fact that I was dressed in a party hat and sunglasses seemed to fade slightly. However, the focus on constructing the image becomes more intense. Because there is an 'end purpose', the achievement of this purpose becomes primary and the performance becomes focused towards that end. Does it matter that the performance is solely for the camera? If the real focus of the performance is to happen when the image is constructed and printed, then no it doesn't. The process of taking images becomes a rehearsal – you take them over and over until you get it right and then instantly the 'right' image becomes the one you present to your audience.

The weather was a constricting factor throughout the shoot. At one point I tried to go into the sea without my shoes on, but my feet went numb, and running backwards and forwards to the camera became a hassle. Also, I was going to do some shots in just trunks, but it didn't happen because the tripod kept blowing over and there was a limited time I could spend that undressed.

I Wished You Were There (But You Weren't)

What has struck me about some of the images, like the first one on this blog and the one pictured above, is that there is a sense of absence. The gaze in 'I Wished You Were There' says "I am having a great time, but only because you can see me now." Which leads to the question, was I actually having a good time when I was on the beach in the first place, or do I just want the viewer to think that? It very much reminds me of Baudrillard's comparison of the hyper-real to the holiday snapshot. When we look back at it, we convince ourselves we were having a good time in the photo because we smile, gesture or pose in such a way. However, it could have just been another boring and ordinary day.

Nonetheless, this puts some kind of emphasis on absence in the still image not of the performer, but actually of the viewer. The expectancy of the figure in the photograph is that he is eventually viewed, that he comes to life once more. I titled this particular photo 'I Wished You Were There (But You Weren't)' partially because I wanted to encapsulate a sense of fun that the audience wants to share, but also slightly to convey a sense of disappointment on behalf of the person in the photograph that he was essentially celebrating alone.

For the first intervention, I think it was a good experiment. It challenged how gutsy I could be and also a lot can be achieved by acting on artistic impulse, in terms of realising in whatever way an idea that's bouncing around in your head. I learned a bit more about where and how my practice could go and would probably return to this set up with a better camera and tripod, with perhaps slightly more stable weather.

I wondered if the gesture of the action in itself was strong enough to attract much of an accidental audience, but it certainly made me contextualise where the still image sat in relation to an action that you were doing right now.

The house where the universe ended

I've recently developed a bizarre interest in quantum physics, largely because it is a science that seems to explain how we still know relatively little about this universe. I mean stuff we can actually touch or see only accounts for 0.4% of the total stuff that makes up 'space'. And we don't know this because we can see the particles of this 'other' matter. We know it because of the effect it has on the matter we can see.

Anyway, as a consequence I've recently been researching the ultimate fate of the universe and there are three ways that we could go. The one I found most interesting was 'heat death'. It is the theory that everything in this universe will eventually die – every planet and every star will in billions of billions of years eventually die out leaving a 'dead universe'. What I found so fascinating about this idea is that it is so... Comforting. That there is a shared fate for everyone and everything regardless of how big you are or how much energy, or even how long you exist for.

But don't let it start you on a depressive spiral about how futile everything is. Instead, I really find it's something that should be embraced. Live, do what you have to do and know that no matter how many books you write, songs you sing or pieces you paint, one day they'll be part of a world of lost knowledge. Then breathe a sigh of relief, and stop being so hard on yourself.

Pleasure and Pain

A student e-mailed me the other day with some questions about my artistic practice, which is always really great in the way that I could talk about myself and what I do forever, but it's always better when someone invites that dialogue. Anyway, one of the questions was about live art and why people would choose to cut themselves under the bracket of 'performance art' and defy natural instincts of not cutting oneself.

Before I go any further, I wouldn't like to say I am advocating self-harm. I have never judged anyone for their desire to self-express inside or outside of the context of 'art', BUT I proposed those artists who are actively engaged with pain do so because the aesthetic of performance art lies within this dilemma. Live art's aesthetic lies in that relationship between pleasure and pain in order to achieve beauty.

My conclusion was "To bring it to a more down to earth everyday level, when you really love someone it is the best feeling in the world and yet it hurts so much at the same time. That is what true beauty is all about - feeling pleasure and pain simultaneously."

For some reason these words came back to haunt me tonight when I listened to 'Summer In Siam' by The Pogues. It is a song that reminds me of someone I loved. It is a song that reminds me of falling in love on a warm summer's day. And yet the lyrics simply state "When it's summer in Siam, then all I really know is that I truly am in the summer in Siam." It makes my heart ache because of the simplicity of the words mixed with the memories.

I have avoided listening to this song for such a long time until tonight. And I felt it: it was a small reminder of what love is, what beauty is. An indescribable joy mixed with a pointed melancholy. The pleasure that seems to fill you with mindfulness, with wanting to be right there in that moment, and yet seems to ache only in your heart.

I met Anna Friel and I felt like an extreme communist

So, by the grace of my job, I do get to go to some wonderful events. Yesterday, I was at the announcement of the stage play of Breakfast At Tiffany's which will have Anna Friel in the leading role of Holly GoLightly.

A couple of Chambord and champagne cocktails and all was going well, until they started the speeches. And I suddenly felt like a communist who'd walked into the plans for Adolf Hitler's Beer Hall Putsch.

Now, okay, I'm willing to admit some snobbery on my part, but when you hear people who more or less control the theatre world proving how little they really know about the genre as a whole, and leading on from that how the majority of people are being spoon fed shit from idiots, then it really starts to get your goat.

Speaker number one comes up- the co-producer.

"... and yes, it was me who first put Beckett in the West End, proving that something obscure and contemporary can be appreciated."

Oh yeah... Really? Obscure? The play of which a film was made starring Peter O' Toole?

The play which launched and inspired hundreds upon hundreds of of wonderful cutting edge theatre?

The play that's on curriculum's everywhere?

The play by one of the most famous Irish playwrights of the last centruy?

The play that's over fucking 50 years old? Contemporary?

At this point, I was midly miffed, and wanted to scream at him, "Why not put on 'Blasted' by Sarah Kane and really challenge people to fucking think, you tosser."

But it didn't end there. The writer comes up to speak and says:

"It's an adaptation of the book..."

Right. So no Hollywood ending.

"And as iconic as the film is, we just wanted it to be something different."

Right. So no Hollywood ending.

"And what we want to stress is this is a different entity taken from the book that Capote wrote."

OKAY JEEZ FOR FUCK'S SAKE! We get it- there's no Hollywood ending. Just say to people, "Sorry- there's no teary ending where George Pepard runs off with Audrey Hepburn."

Except, I look around the room at all these gleeful, expectant faces who have absolutely no fucking clue, because no-one's bothered to read it in their lives and I have this niggling thing at the back of my head that knows they'll watch it and be disappointed. Well no- they won't- they'll shell out £40 for their seats and be placated by brainless crap.

"The musical crowd aren't going to be happy because there's only a few songs in it..."

A few? A few? Hell, we all remember Moon River, but when the fuck did Holly GoLightly start singing and dancing around? I think they're getting confused with that other movie that Audrey Hepburn was in.

"..but hopefully people will respect its intelligent" Burn in hell

"...witty..." I really, really want to ask you some challenging questions on theatre right now but I'll keep quiet

"intelligent storyline" You've already said intelligent you brainless fuck

Okay, I am miffed because the area of performance I work in is very niche, but its establishments and institutions like these that make it impossible for live art to thrive. If people could make more informed decisions on what they wanted to see instead of being told 'what theatre is' then I'm sure it would lead to a livelier artistic community with increased diversity.

I'm not trying to be a snob... what annoys me is that these people control the theatre world. They control the money and they control what people see. West End theatre is not really art- it's rehashed ideas with a lot of money behind them. And the sad thing is it continues to be a world of safe bets where no one is challenged.

Added to this, I'm surprised more people aren't angry that they're being treated like a nation of idiots. A nation that can't handle anything too risky or upsetting. And to me it's an insult to our collective intelligence. If people remain unchallenged, things remain the same. How can we ever evolve the arts scene if we're just producing the same stuff en masse?

Something really needs to change.

Next phase...

I think there's a phase in every emerging performance artist's life where they wonder "After this, what next?".

It's such an interesting question- Mainly because I believe that the 'what next' is the default mode of an artist. One of my heroes, Paul Draper, once said that "nothing is ever finished- you're just happy to abandon it at a certain point." And this is true. While there are the perfectionists out there, I find that I work better with pressure and deadlines- there's more importance for the piece to happen. And yet, at some point it has to be left... otherwise you'd end up doing the same piece forever.

Another one of my favourite artists, Laurie Anderson, said that no-one is ever bad at what they love to do. And that's a thought to keep you going through all your artistic self doubt

The King of Beauty in rehearsal

Since investigating my piece, the King of Beauty, a lot of notions have come to me both through feedback and through investigating the notions and connotations of this word. The biggest surprise is when, whilst wearing make up, I performed a scratch performance of it that lasted about ten minutes and someone described it as 'misogynistic'.

I found this intriguing. The references I made in this short piece were feminine, for example at one point I talk about getting the wrong Barbie for Christmas, or being called a slut, and then it struck me that these people associated these things as gender specific. In my mind, I had found them equally applicable, laudable and laughable about both men and women.

In a way, that has challenged my own beliefs and preconceptions of 'femininity' and 'adrogyny'. Unfortunately, femininity is placed in the line of 'that which is not masculine'. Androgyny is something that escapes the general concensus- for example, that which is not masculine is feminine, that which is not feminine is an imitation of masculinity. Masculinity seems to have defined terms and rigorous structure, making it difficult to achieve any sort of masculine 'ideal'.

It then gave me a slight insight into the objetification of women. I've been listening to a lot of Karen Finley of late, which could explain my change in performance style and focus.

Of course, I am hesitant to make blanket statements. I think for someone as liberal as me, to be confronted with such a gender defined term that I feel is something I am a million miles away from has been an experience, and something to delve into and explore.

Exploring cyberspace

I've recently been researching cyberspace and the possibilities of performing within the "virtual" world of Second Life. Whilst becoming entrenched in a pile of books and journals, I started to ask how 'real' is digital reality? I came across a very interesting theory by Slavoj Zizek about the 'reality' of cybersex. If sexual contact is already phantasmic in the sense that the body of the other person serves merely as a vessel onto which we project our sexual desires, then cybersex surely serves the same function making it as real as any other kind of sexual contact.

This got my trail of thought going... If we act/ perform/ create in real-time in a different digital reality, then it is no less real than the physical or biological which we pin the word 'real' on to. I started to resent using the words 'real' and 'virtual' to distinguish between the physical world and Second Life.

However, I am slightly concerned that doing away with the physical body would strip us of the ability to subconciously perform identities through our body. For example, an embodied, engendered feminist performance, or performing culture through our physicality. Is it lost? Is creating new and multiple online identities immoral or does it create a new way of 'interfacing' with yourself?

And how do we define 'liveness'- the essence of performance art? Does it mean live-through-presence, or does it represent live-through-time-based-moments? I feel it could (and has already) start to divide performance artists in what they feel is essential to this umbrella term.

There are two sides of the debate- where a move towards 'body as information' represents a fear and loathing of the weak, mortal body and a quest to embed ourselves in the machine versus the fear of the omnipotence of the machine. But perhaps by representing our 'imagined selves' we do simulate a part of what we try to capture on stage- always playing this 'imagined other' who we never really are.

Second Life is relatively new in the performance art world, and I think its potential will be realised very soon. It will be interesting how it moves forward, and what that means in bringing its conciousness to the public forum.

Love Is A Number

I have been working on a performance piece called 'Love Is A Number' to perform at the Scenepool at Camden People's Theatre in February, and I have been surprised at how a few words can really challenge your whole behaviour. In the piece I talk about taking risks, and I thought it would be totally unfair of me to ask the audience to take more risks if I myself have not been risking anything. I had decided to 'practice what I preach'.

So, of late, I have been acting on those surreptitious smiles and casual glances and, believe me, it is like walking through life with your eyes open. So perhaps my theory that love is a numbers game is correct- the more impulses you act on, the closer you get to hitting that magical number...

However, if I ever do crack the mathematical formula to falling in love, I'm publishing a book and making my millions off of it.