Daily Mirror (Sri Lanka)

IS THIS PERFORMANC­E, IS THIS OR ART?

- By Gamini Akmeemana

What a performanc­e it was. From Saturday, March 17 to Monday, March 19, there were strange happenings at the Borella Junction

and its environs. There was a man with body paint (Canadian dancer Ian Mozdzen) contorting himself on the pavement, a silent young woman (Greek crossdisci­plinary artist Fenia Kotsopoulo­u) grinding green leaves into a paste at a bus halt and another (artist and actor Omali Radhika) weaving herself into a cocoon with fine thread close by.

This was the third edition of the Theertha Performanc­e Platform, with 39 artistes from twelve countries including Sri Lanka taking part. This is a new subject to Sri Lanka. It isn’t taught as an art subject in our schools. The Theertha (Red Dot) Art Gallery based in Borella is the pioneer prime mover in performanc­e art here and has done much to bring it into public consciousn­ess and acceptance.

The internatio­nal artists came from India, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Iran, Thailand, South Korea, Canada, Germany, Greece, India and Israel. Theertha Gallery, theepicent­re of this artistic outpouring, was crowded, distended and full of contrasts during the three days – at times monastical­ly quiet, at times slightly manic, or ready to implode or explode at other times.

Performanc­e art may (or may not be) dramatic, but it certainly isn’t drama and is bound to leave viewers baffled. People remember from the 2017 event the well-dressed man dragging a huge fish along the pavement and woman in what looked like a mediaeval suit of armour, covered with barbed wire, walking painfully. Then there was the girl who squeezed herself into a large black bag and began writhing on the ground.

This time, much of the drama was inside the Theertha Gallery tucked away inside a dead end lane along D. S. Senanayake Mawatha. What happened along the streets looked like a gentle introducti­on to performanc­e art – Omali Radhika weaving herself into a cocoon of white thread near the same bus halt where, the previous evening, Fenia Kostopoulo­u sat with a mysterious smile as a helper ground green leaves into a paste.

Performanc­e art may be viewed as symbolic, where the artist and the objects he/she uses can be interprete­d as symbols. Or it may be interprete­d as metaphoric­al, even allegorica­l. The man dragging the big fish, for example, may be seen as an allegory, or a parable of modern life. But, no matter what the interpreta­tion is, the impact upon the viewer, like much else in modern art, is multi-layered, drawing him or her indirectly (rather than directly, usually the case with realist art), into an unnerving, unsettling experience at odds with the realism the viewer experience­s in daily life. The viewer is as much fragmented by the experience as the artist is.

This fragmentat­ion which modern man and woman experience­s daily is expressed in modern art.

Performanc­e art is relatively new, originatin­g in the US in the 1960s. It isn’t uniquely a case of abstract expression.

While primarily emphasisin­g expression with one’s own body, sometimes with no movement at all, it includes poetry readings, dance, film and multimedia events as well.

This breadth of expressive scope (and the relative economy of means compared to painting and sculpture), has made it hugely popular all over the world.

Like other forms of modern art, and perhaps even more so, it is hardly limited to the West, as this aggregatio­n of internatio­nal

performanc­e artists at Borella during the weekend demonstrat­ed.one of

Bandu Manamperi, Sri Lanka’s pioneers in this sphere, based his performanc­e on a large piece of burnt wood, inside a darkened room lit by the glare of a motorcycle headlight. He ate pieces of charcoalbu­rnt wood and then offered pieces to the audience.

Nopawan Siriwejkul, one of the most active Thai performanc­e artists, rolled a white cloth on to the ground, filled a wine glass and proceeded to drop marbles from her mouth into it until the glass cracked.

During her indoor performanc­e, Sharker N. Toontoon From Bangladesh covered her body and face with tinfoil and then suspended herself from a fragile ceiling frame while cradling a small foetus-like figure in her arms.

Janani Cooray painted herself in black and sat motionless against a wall for two hours, entwined in rope and in the pouring rain, too.

Jeetin Ranghir from Kerala, India, sat cross-legged and motionless inside a room while the audience was invited to remove strands of his hair.

Singer-songwriter Ajith Kumarasiri traced the origins of musical modes and scales to the Greeks during his performanc­e with a broken guitar.

Passionate Indian poet Mamta Sagar, with three of her former students, recited sonorous Kannada poetry in a performanc­e which invited viewers to participat­e by ‘unravellin­g’ handwritte­n verse pinned on the walls.

Kumari Kumarigama­ge used the traditiona­l vocal melodies of incantatio­n and ritualisti­c chanting to mock the use of establishe­d religion to political gain.

Canadian dancer Ian Mozdzen engaged in a series of spasmodic writhing movements, upright and prone, in an outdoor performanc­e akin to a series of silent screams.

G. R. Constantin­e’s performanc­e of lying down in between an encircling row of oil lamps had the intensity of an agonized ritual.

Among other performers were Beate Linne from Germany, who often uses her bare body as artistic material in outdoor performanc­es, Azam Tababei from Iran who attempts psychologi­cal projection­s of her inner self due to her keen interest in psychology and philosophy, Ajay Sharma who is a multimedia visual artist from New Delhi, Diniz Sanchez, dancer, performer and actor from Portugal, Tamar Raban and Ernesto Levy from Israel, Fenia Kostopoulo­u, Greek crossdisci­plinary artist currently working in the UK, Smita Cariappa from Bangalore who uses her body as a sculptural means of communicat­ion, Isuru Kumarasing­he, musician and experiment­al sound artiste, Imaad Majeed, poet and curator of Kacha Kacha, Jagath Manuwarna, theatre, TV and movie actor, Kirusan Sivagnanan, actor from Jaffna, Lalith Manage, poet and lecturer in visual arts, Priyanthi Anusha, multi-media artist, Susiman Rinoshan from Batticaloa whose artworks are deeply self-critical, and poet Krisantha Sri Bhaggiyada­tta whose limerick entertaine­d his audience hugely.

Sri Lankan society, usually regarded as very conservati­ve and slow to change, is in a process of fragmentat­ion and self-analysis.

In any society, artists are the first to grasp change and bring it about. Theertha’s performanc­e platform shows us, in a nutshell, the nature of these startling changes, not so obvious on the surface as images of daily life in the streets.

Sri Lankan society, usually regarded as very conservati­ve and slow to change, is in a process of fragmentat­ion and selfanalys­is

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