Lone Star Performance Explosion day three's dominating theme seemed to be food and catharsis. By the third day, I figured out the timing (the artists never start on time) and arrived in time to catch all the acts even though the first thing listed on the bill was Daniel-Kayne's Three Day Fast. By my calculations he was a day and a half into it, which made me a day and a half late.
If there was an explanation, I missed it. So what I saw is what you get: denuding Fiji bottles of there labels, decanting the bottled water into a larger container, performing a ritual (meditation? possibly prayers? the striking of a gong?) re-decanting the water back into the Fiji bottles from whence it came, and placing them on the alter.
|Daniel-Kayne in the window of Dean's
|More precious than oil, you just wait.
I stepped into Notsuoh for Chicken 'N Dinner in which Nancy Douthey played a talking chicken as it described and acted out how to prepare itself for dinner.
|A floured Nancy Douthey
|Brian and Stevie McCord
No really, it's soy.
|The end result was just as appetizing as the meal.
|I will buy any book with the silhouette
of a hatchet on its cover.
|Alcohol leads to debauchery!
No shit. That's why I'm in this bar.
On the second floor, waiting atop a 15 ft. ladder was the performance artist, Julia Wallace in dark sunglasses and a black dress. Music began and she performed a sort of ballet dance on the ladder. It wasn't Cirque du Soleil, but it certainly wasn't a drunken maintenance man either. It was tightly choreographed, similar to a number of pieces she's done with sexyATTACK.
Done with the dance, she descended the ladder into a pile of dirt and glitter. After perfunctorily removing her sunglasses and dress, she scooped up the dirt and smeared it on her body. Sufficiently slathered, she danced around the ladder and vocalized.
The nudity and the slathering were sensual, but she had me up on the ladder. That portion of the performance captivated my mind.
While a crew of people removed the ladder and the dirt to prepare for the next act, I grabbed a plate of wonderful Pakistani food prepared by Nusrat Malik and then spent 5 minutes trying to navigate the drink-ticket bar set up. My quest for a ticket and a justification of why was a performance piece in itself.
|What's a festival without fantastic food?
Nusrat and her assistant Dale
|Gim Gwang Cheol unraveling a spool of tape.
|Gim with head wrapped, raising his arms to form a cross.
I'm not sure if it was a religious reference or one to the movie Platoon.
Dressed like every middle school physical education (P.E.) teacher I've ever had, John Gregory Boehme strode on to the stage with his arms full of a tennis racket, a golf club, a hockey stick, and a baseball bat. He situated the equipment on a block of lard, which was already there. After all the implements were properly positioned, he tore a hunk of lard from the block and fashioned it into a ball. He repeated this exercise until he had several balls of lard (sounds like a gift one of my rural uncles tried to give me in the 70s) that ranged from baseball to golf ball size.
Having played all the balls, Boehme stripped out of his sweat suit and put on slacks, a tie, and a jacket. He then placed some sort of breathing apparatus over his nose and mouth, coated his head with 6 inches of lard, pressed a tennis racket, golf club, and a hockey stick into it and then proceed to read a list of the habits of highly successful people or some such group.
Basically, the performance metaphorically captured my entire experience of middle school.
The adolescent flashback, however, didn't stop there. Orion Maxted took the stage with a small card board box. He placed the box in the middle of the stage, extracted a banana from it, held the banana above his head and proclaimed, "banana." Simply enough. It reminded me of Wittgenstein's language games.
|Orion Maxted and his banana
|peer-pressured or artist pressured "bananas"
The stage cleared of "bananas." A man in white paint and a loin cloth set up a small table with various jars and cans of food, most notably mayonnaise. Then Jim Pirtle took the stage and began reading a story of catharsis.
|Pirtle with loin-clothed assistant
|...and Russian twin/doppelganger makes three
|Pirtle channeling his musical, inner Russian bear
|Marianna bluing the back of Nestor
|human painting implements
(I hope they got free drinks at the bar.)
|Nestor and Greg putting their backs into their art.
The evening ended with 1KA performing some electronic-metal generated music. The sounds were at times screeching, at times thundering.
It was a pitch-perfect coda for my experience of the LSP Biennale.