Last night’s Sorry Entertainment at Elastic was the first time in a long time that I’d sat down for a concert of performance art. It didn’t occur to me until after it was underway, actually, how rare it is I see this stuff in a formal (stage-audience) environment. It could’ve been a deliberate shift away from the on-site, casually-framed performances I take to be a present default, but was more likely just the most logical way to present seven wildly-divergent pieces to a large audience in a small space.
I was given a conical paper birthday party hat upon my arrival, which was cute (although eventually detrimental to already-shitty sightlines), and the faux-festive nonsense of a room dressed up for a birthday with a sad Christmas tree by the door, along with the show’s title set a tone that was well-suited to the five performances I stayed for. My boyfriend and I, misinformed, showed up half an hour early, so we left for two Tecate tallboys from across the street and some cash (I walked in thinking I was late, and what I had in my wallet was short of the $7 suggested donation). Turns out there was no rush: Elastic continued to fill up until past 8:30, around which time the evening got off to its profoundly-leisurely start.
Robin Marie’s piece, chirrup!, consisted of (presumably) Marie in a tent in the corner, rustling around inside with some lights. I assumed it was an offstage setup for a later work for the stage so unfortunately I didn’t look too closely. I couldn’t tell you much of anything about it.
Behind it All, by Katie Bateman, may have been wanting a greater proportion of originality but was executed well enough for me not to mind (in general, as regular readers have probably noticed, I’m currently in a place where thoughtful execution, even of shopworn or hackneyed material, beats dis- or non-organized creative venting nine times out of ten). Pulling herself laboriously onto the stage wearing a very pretty, woven golden dress and a makeshift purse knit and braided from plastic bags and filled with glass jars, Bateman slowly and steadily turned up the funny through a neurotic, obsessive production of emptying the jars and arranging their contents. Which contents were embroidery floss, thread and hair in a mostly golden-brown palette. Which she fussed with, laid down on, muttered about, and picked off her tights. Taking out a white blouse and putting it on over her plastic-bag-backpack gave her a spider’s silhouette to match her baggage of web threads, although her manner was an entertaining contrast to the standard usage of female spider imagery. Bateman talks herself up to approaching a few members of the audience for small talk and a handshake, looking the whole time as though she’s about to vomit. She then retrogrades back through filling the jars, her bag, and leaves the stage, deciding in the end to leave the mess behind. After the understatement of her subtle gestures and whispers throughout the piece this showy, theatrical rejection of her baggage was, erm, jarring, but overall it was an interesting and oddly-pretty work. Read More…
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