The following is in response to my request that the students in performance class write a performative text to be posted on this site. We wrestled with the conceptual framework for such an undertaking for some time and ultimately worked collaboratively in real time to produce this page. We hope that someone will pick up this thread and extend it.
There are accompanying images posted on Flickr at:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/art_718_spring08/
Class: We've been asked to write a performative text.
PER formative TEXT
[I may be being very difficult here but I don't know how to write collectively.
LAUREL: I don't know how to write collectively… it's a very solitary practice…ego driven.
Mary Beth: I don't even know how to write…I'm a visual person…when I do write it is very factual.
Stephanie: Each person has there own thoughts and feelings about writing, so ultimately every ones idea of writing is unique to themselves.
Doug: There is some rhetoric that insinuates that the internet will make people smarter and more literate. Everyone is writing, texting and emailing all the time. Why is it so hard to write collectively and without ego?
Atonement: makes me think of astringent… which makes me think of things caustic- which makes me think of the burn of attempting purity.
Again, with the PURITY notion – authenticity, truth in art, reality – bleh.
[I wanna DO things in this class! complaining whimpering whining]
people filling bottles with dirt, the earth, what the earth is made out of
WHY JARS? WHY NOT JARS? JUST DO IT (note: Nike has co-opted our speech, or we have adopted commercial slogans HIGH FIVE, Doug!]
Kitty: I'm not from around here. I feel left out. My US identity is: A#095-435-654-, My Hungarian Identity is coded in this language: Sziasztok, en Magyar vagyok. Es itt jarok suliba. Nem tudom hogy most mit csinalunk, de erdekesnek tunik.
So, here is where the teacher steps in and attempt so steer this narrative back toward the idea of performance: what is performance, why do we care, who decides, what value do we project upon it, who gets to perform, to decide, to vote to identify with, to reason and critique, to speak, to sing and dance, to perform the mother, the father, the child, the cousin, the immigrant, the student, the professor, the chairman…
STAGE DIreCTION: student kicks prof off machine (he was hogging)
Angela: OK, roles played, would you like to see my resume? Daughter, sister, niece, lover, bitch, victim, whore, student, single woman, employee, rebel, leader, group member, client, businesswoman, avatar, burlesque performer, American, white chick, bisexual, ummmmmmm are you guys just going to sit there READING about my secret identities and say nothing? What if I tell you that I am
I, not the previous I but a new I… am being a whiny bitch about this whole deal 'cause I'd rather have a typewriter or something…what difference it would make I'm not sure but I want one …and today has been I want I want I want I want I want…and really, ultimately (sorry kids) but I'm fine with it. I'm not givin up my narcissism ego-centricism etc. i'm gonna give it a big fat hug.
It's Me again, or I, whichever you prefer. Why don't you tell me who you want Me to be? I'll be happy to accommodate you. It's all about what You want. Easy enough. Just words, right? What do you want from me? I'm certainly not asking very much of you. You were enjoying it when I was revealing myself before weren't you? Kinda had you on the edge of your seat. Or perhaps revealing oneself online or obscuring/abstracting identity is passé at this point. Not interesting performance b/c it's the norm. In daily life.
What am I? I am not perfect and not the most intelligent person in the world. I am something different every day, every moment. What I am personally is not what people take me as. What your costume is, your personality, your actions will make you seem like one thing to a person and something else to someone else.
Doug (professor) Let me tell you about the room, the room we are in currently, a room that is a classroom and simultaneously a lab, a performance space, a community gathering place, an idea factory and a crucible for dreams. I am male, heterosexual, 51 yrs old, practicing artist/father/partner/teacher/Jew. I am surrounded (currently) by 5 women of varying ages, self described students, (by virtue of the tuition they pay to the UW Madison) but also by varying degrees, feminists, girly-girls, artists, thinkers, pan-sexual. We are performing. Performing roles, identities, desires, needs, costumed in what makes us feel comfortable and "at home" in our individual and collective bodies. We are a community, yet when we leave this room, we go off to lives that do not necessarily intersect, (feels like a loss at times) and meet up again each Monday and Wednesday in this very room. The room… the room is by turns the place that ideas come from and the place that ideas die. Ideas are dying all around us. As I write this, the apathy is creeping in as it always does, inertia settles in and quenches all desire. What do you want? Do you want someone to do the work for you? Do you want me to be your maker? I can do that… I can make all the art for you and you can be the fugurehead, the front person, the one that gets the phone calls.
The apathy isn't creeping…it was there…from the onslaught of this project…and it isn't that I don't care about the class the growth of us as artists the exploration that could ensue…I just have difficult getting on board with things when I have no sense of the way they ought to function…no predetermined ending…jf;loaksdjh/;klhgodfuythsfc
oH, you want her back? Come here.
Alright…so I was cut off..rather, lifted off the keyboard. Really she picked me up. At any rate, writing is something very specific to me. i will entertain other approaches …but I need a way to contextualize them.
Is there a right way of doing this? I want to understand exactly what's going on and make conscious choices throughout whatever this work is. OK, that is totally reasonable AND…
Write. Just do it. Let the floodgates open. What is behind those gates? I'm afraid to let it all come out…it won't make sense…I'm a perfectionist in a certain sense…
ANALYSIS IS PARALYSIS
I don't want to be vulnerable if I don't know where its going. What should I let out, what should I write. Inspiration isn't coming, inspiration has left me here to die. What happens when you wait for inspiration that doesn't come…You just have to do it.
So, as the class comes to an end this text comes to an artificial end. The process has yielded insight into individuals in the group that may not have been known, may have remained unknown without this challenge: Create a performative text. This has proved difficult for some and not for others. One wonders what brings on this paralysis… is it cultural, is it gender based, is it learned, is it about ego, about the fear of being crushed by others who are stronger than us? Perhaps all of the above.
Please feel free to comment, participate of otherwise intervene in this text in any way you might wish.






