Meet Me at the Oasis
October 2017. While checking out some old art mags I come across a photo of the British artist Georgina Starr posing as Theda Bara. Unfamiliar with Bara I learn she was a silent film star. Having acted in more than 40 films during her brief career from 1914 to 1926, she was extremely successful in her capacity as a vamp. During the late 20’s films began transitioning from silence to sound. From melodrama to psychological realism. Stylized to restrained acting. Bara couldn’t make the transition. Her voice bad, her gestures too broad. She got married instead.
The silent screen. Exaggerated gestures. A tinkling piano and the occasional sub-title. Immediately you’re in, captivated as Theda Bara begins her seduction of the rich businessman in A Fool There Was, one of her few surviving films. You note the way she approaches. Drops the rose. Engages him with her eyes. Of course. It’s so obvious. This visual short-hand. And no matter what one may think of the technique, it does move the story along. Gets to the point.
Performance artist Marina Abramovic also understands silence. Gesture. Hers too is the broad gesture. The dramatic. Notice as she places instruments of pain and death alongside the mundane on the table at Studio Morra for her performance Rhythm 0. This in the service of Art. ‘Art is life and death’ she says, ‘There is nothing else.’ And for her, this seems true enough. Her body, expendable. A kind of vehicle. A means. Medium by which to act and be acted upon. To be moved through. She wants that process. Wants also the other side. Bara wants neither. Just talks to the other side, ‘medium’ being a term used to describe her by the Fox spin doctors.
As Karl O Knausgaard describes the experiences of the prophet in A Time To Every Purpose Under Heaven it’s apparent that Ezekiel too can be described as a medium. And as with Bara and Abramovic, gesture is his language. Silence. His tongue paralyzed by God. It’s an odd situation to be in. He eats God’s honey-flavoured words and what follows is the loss of his own, his ability to speak limited to God’s words and these only at particular moments. During the performances. And perform he must. But in the service of God rather than Art. There’s Ezekiel arranging to get himself tied up in his own house, the audience outside waiting for hours and then days. Finally his tongue loosened he speaks out: ‘So says the Lord God, he who will hear, let him hear’ while people, having deserted their posts, collect once again, anxious to see what outrageous things Ezekiel will say and do.
While it could be said these artists own the broad gesture, successful TED Talkers know the value of the somewhat subtler gesture. Of quantity. I read that the most successful TED Talkers are those using their hands an average of 465 times during an 18-minute talk. Expressive hands rather than jazz hands. There’s a difference. Expressive making sense and somewhat scripted. Standardized. Somewhat akin to the gestures of silent film stars. And saints. St Teresa’s open-palmed hands. Abramovic’s. The benediction hands. The amazement. The be quiet. Listen. Wait. Jazz hands in contrast…think Ezekiel. Knausgaard writes ‘his arms and legs beat against the earth, his head turns from side to side, eyes open all the while.’ Jazz body. Inadequate. Ineffectual. The least successful.
So here’s this beauty salon. After all…’Art must be beautiful. Artist must be beautiful.’ Abramovic’s words. And she is. Young. Naked. And brushing her hair in the performance. Vigorously. Painfully. No pain at the salon though, pinned up as she is on the bulletin board behind the dryers. Theda Bara also with her lovely head of hair. Kohl-rimmed eyes. Ezekiel doesn’t make it into this particular club. He’s not beautiful. Emaciated. Most definitely filthy, especially after being trussed up in his house for days.
The salon is a clean place. Contained. The clients fully clothed. Gesturing at a minimum. Drama non-existent. A true oasis and respite from too much life and death. Ezkeiel might do well to book a shampoo and cut. Set that jazzed and jangled body down for some sweet mundane. Come to think of it, I may just have to book an appointment myself.