I’ve been not non-reviewing for far too long. Good to be back.
I’ll admit, anything involving Sean Curham always sparkes my interest. And then there’s the prospect of scones, Mark Harvey, some Swedish guy (my love for all things Scandinavian thrives) and, of course, the Old Folks Ass. How could I resist? On top of everything, I was assured I could bring my kids, which is a huge relief when considering how very un-often I manage to get out to see dance shows – or to get out at all, for that matter. And it’s a 12-hour performance-a-thon. Yes, please!
Upon arriving, we pass a metal bucket outside the front doors with what looked like backyard-grown peaches in it and a sign attached saying DONATIONS. My three girls (aged 2, 4 and 6) take this opportunity to clean out my change purse. I’m not sure if the donations are for the peaches or the show, but we left the fruit untouched and went inside. The first work is already in progress. I recognise Sarah Campus and Suzanne Cowan. I find out the other two performers are Deimos Thompson-Rikys and Elspeth Fougere. I notice what looks like cream is smeared across the floor of the Old Folks Ass. and piles of crumbs and bits of scone are scattered everywhere. Sarah and Deimos are walking/dancing/performing through the space using each others’ bodies as a benchtop on which to cut, crumble, press and butter scone after scone after scone. My four- and six-year old think this is hilarious and laugh outloud, asking ‘Why are they putting that food everywhere?’ I want to know the same thing so we keep watching.
At the same time, Elspeth and Suzanne go around to the audience and offer scones (not from the floor) and tea. It’s very ‘retro,’ for lack of a better word, as are the dresses the girls are wearing while serivng morning tea. The whole ritual of serving tea from a cart (which, in true bad ass stlye, has OFA painted aross the side), adds to this aire of time reversal we’ve been invited into. Tradition, foundation, nostalgia, memory, reflection – these are all words that come to mind… initially. There is a definite sense of an evocation of the past going on, but it’s not entirely genuine or serious. Especially in light of what happens next.
Deimos is in a pair of Y-fronts and Sarah has on something resembling a swimsuit circa 1920. There is a white sheet taped to the floor of the hall, but its purpose seems a bit moot as increasingly more and more scone debris is being strewn across the floor. After Suzanne and Elspeth finish their tea service, things start to get really messy. And funny. I don’t know who the instigator is, but handfuls of what was once morning tea are flung, smeared, plopped and deposited onto the floor and persons participating in this work. It’s a improvised yet carefully-controlled food fight, set to some nostalgic music (i.e. ‘Unchained Melody,’). And it looks like a lot of fun.
No one is safe, it seems, as globs of butter, jam (strawberry?) and mashed up scone get squelched and smeared underneath the undergarments of Sarah and Deimos and into the face and hair of Suzanne and Elspeth. Even Suzanne’s wheelchair is lathered, albeit lovingly, with butter. And jam. Strategic targets are chosen and fired upon carefully, quietly and, again, lovingly.
I’m beginning to think it’s not so much a food fight as it is a food cuddle. And even though there are kids at this show (who, by the way, are all revelling in seeing what may be the coolest mess ever made in front of them), I’m unable to ignore the fetish element at play in this work, especially in the relationship between Sarah and Deimos. I mean, what do you expect people to think when you stuff a giant wad (pardon the pun) of butter down the front of a man’s underwear and then throw yourself onto him with a satisfying grunt? I’m certainly not suggesting anything inappropriate was done in the presence of children, however. Quite the opposite, as any sexual, fetish or ‘sitophilia’ connotations were very subtle, short-lived and done in a way that was more comical than obscene (as well as probably coincidental?). Again, my kids thought it was hilarious. I thought it was silly (and hilarious).
The food frenzy winds down to leave Sarah and Deimos intertwined on the sheet on the floor (a lot of good that did!) covered in all manner of… stuff, including lashings of butter and jam which look very [mangled] flesh/blood-like. Yes, it looks like actual carnage, which, from the Latin word carnaticum, is literally ‘the slaughter of animals.’ They look dead(ish). But happy. Almost smiling in their sticky, sweet embrace.
Then for the first time, a performer speaks (real words as opposed to the grunts and giggles that came out during the food play). “It’s a shame because they both were so young,” says Suzanne rather melancholically, staring down at the heap of bodies/food below her. “It’s an unfortunate incident. I’m glad I didn’t find them.” Then Elspeth comes along and starts pouring water on top of the bodies and Suzanne from a big metal tea pot; a kind of cleansing?
As with most performance/conceptual art I’ve seen, there are a lot of elements at work here, lots of layers. Perhaps the nosatalgia, the sense of tradition and ritual is manifest through food, music and the very venue where this performance is taking place, which has both witnessed and harboured decades of social, personal and cultural change.
Or maybe it’s just a food fetish thing…
Live at The Old Folks Ass. iss a 12-hour performance platform, featuring works by the previously mentoined artsits as well as Sean Curham, Tessa Mitchell, Louise Evans, Christina Houghton, Matt Gibbons and probably more. I am unable to stay for the next performance (by Christina), but I do stick around to help clear the detritus from the floor and participate in some zany Scandinavian fun and games.
Guest artist Johannes Blomqvist, from Norbotten, Sweden, fills the segue by introducing the audience to some Swedish Mid-summer festival celebrations (normally celebrated in July in the northern hemisphere but here in Auckland, it was held just last Saturday – nevermind the talk about town that this year’s summer was hardly a summer at all, but compared to a traditional northern Swedish summer, it was probably sweltering). He shows some Youtube footage of maypoles, games and various dancing/singing. He asks the audience to try out a song and dance about a frog. I oblige (along with my four-year old who bails after the first verse). We sing and gesture/dance about the frog having no ears, no tail. And something else I can’t remember before squat-jumping in a circle, croaking “Kerr-ackk-ackk-ackk! kerr-ackk ackk!” like a frog.
It’s fun and silly solstice shenanigans steeped in ancient pagan ritual and celebrated by sun-starved Swedes. But it’s also a distraction while we wait for the next act, which, unfortunately, I can’t stick around for. But I like how the day started! And I’m eager to hear how the other performances went, as I have a feeling they all involved food? And ritual? And? And???
Carrie Rae 1/3/2012
