Trigger warning: Mentions of physical and sexual assault
“The day the power of love overrules the love of power, the world will know peace" - Mahatma Gandhi
We have all heard of how absolute power corrupts absolutely. We have known of so many examples from history. Now, we are witnessing it unfolding in our daily lives. War is everywhere. Conflicts are shaping narratives. No one is spared. While some find themselves in the direct line of fire, those of us who are separated by distance still bear the indirect brunt of the violence.
It may seem unbelievable at times, that humans could inflict intolerable misery on fellow humans. What then is the civilisational evolution that we proudly claim? In reality, are there beasts that reside within us all, which rears its ugly head when unrestricted authority is ours? Haven’t we seen these untamed, unprincipled versions of humanity manifest itself in situations where safety in numbers brings on a false sense of unaccountability?
Performance artists through the years have tried to explore this by challenging the boundaries of human behaviour. Placing themselves in vulnerable situations, they have exposed shocking public behaviour by turning the audience into active participants. Here is a look at a few such performances that would perhaps help us make sense of the mindless destruction that rages.
RHYTHM O
In 1974, 28-year-old Serbian artist Marina Abramović stood completely still for six hours and allowed the audience to do whatever they wished to her, in her performance titled Rhythm O. In an open room, she placed 72 objects on a table. The objects were those that could give pain or pleasure, like a feather, a rose with thorns, bread, honey, scissors, wine, nails, and even a gun and a bullet. The audience was instructed to use them on her as they desired and that she would take full responsibility for any action. The performance started at 8 pm and as the night progressed, so did the tensions. It all started off with gentle reactions, like brushing her cheeks with the feather and spinning her around. After three hours had passed, her clothes had been ripped, her skin cut, and her blood sucked. It was when a member of the audience thrust a loaded gun to her head, and worked Marina’s own finger around the trigger that a protective group within the audience fought to save her. Finally, after six hours of countless assaults, stripped naked, smeared with ink, and on the brink of being killed, the artist ended her performance and started to move towards the audience of her own free will. And guess what happened next? The public ran in all directions, clearly not wanting to confront their actions.
The performance is proof that in the absence of resistance or punishment, humanity simply fades away and those with power, can easily turn into abusers of the vulnerable.
SHOOT
In a dangerous performance in 1971, artist Chris Burden stood still in a gallery in front of an audience, while his friend, standing 15 feet away, raised a 22-caliber rifle and shot him. The bullet injured his left arm while the visitors watched the spectacle. No one came forward to stop the shooting. And this was exactly the point that the artist was trying to make. Considering that the Vietnam war had been going on for years, and that the images that were being telecast as news clips had made people immune to watching someone else suffer, Chris Burden’s act was a reminder of the savagery of war. His purpose was to tap into the collective conscience of the viewers, by shocking them enough to leave their immunity behind while asking them to introspect as to why they remained silent spectators.
CUT PIECE
Cut Piece, first performed in Japan in 1964 by Japanese-American artist Yoko One, who later was also known for her marriage to John Lennon of Beatles fame, is still considered one of the most powerful art performances about human reactions.
Dressed in black, Yoko Ono sat down in the middle of an empty stage, motionless. A pair of scissors was placed in front of her and the audience was invited to walk up to her, one at a time, and cut off — as much or as little as they wanted — of her dress. The audience queued up. What followed could be termed the grandest lesson about the abuse of power. The women were careful and apologetic about their actions, cutting very little. A drunk man meanwhile, cut the chest of her shirt, exposing her undergarments. Towards the end of her performance, she was completely bare and had to even endure the threat of being stabbed with the scissors by a male visitor.
Spectators' responses also had cultural differences. When she performed the piece in New York in 1965, the audience giggled continuously, enjoying her helplessness. A man who had torn off the fabric that covered her breast, came back again to cut the remains of her blouse down the front and between her chest. It was only when he laughingly proceeded to cut off her undergarments that one female member from the audience voiced her opposition. Although the performance seemed to be one that revealed the artist by degrees, what it honestly revealed was the boundaries of social responsibility.
These performances are not merely art. They are a commentary on the barbarism that humans are capable of. The next time news reports scream of killings and torture, let it be a reminder that we must not only expel the darkness that may exist within, but also speak up against injustices. Let the future generation wake up in the lap of peace!