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Finally it is here! A short clip from my 3 hour durational live performance installation. C’mon Mickey. I love you was performed as part of the 2010 Melbourne Fringe Festival. As one of my ‘one woman’ works it was the culmination of my experimentation with themes of fragmentation, deconstruction of the self, psychological displacement, love and grief. It was like a museum. It hurt. It was a cathedral.
In a bold new work, Lizzil Gay, the fiercely provocative artist with a reputation for literally surgically attaching her heart to her chest is set to immerse you in her latest live art installation. Self-styled surgeon who prefers the term puncture over pierce – her erotically charged performance art is not to be missed! During the Melbourne Fringe, Lizzil is transforming the basement of Donkey Wheel into an intimate installation space of love for Mickey and you. Post her a letter and she will sew your dreams to her heart with intricate surgical precision. Crooning love songs she will hold you as a gaseous cloud of madness descends and you realise you are never alone.
Dates: 23-26 September, Open for viewing between 6 and 9pm.
“I seek harm to myself… busily provoking within myself the images… which can injure me and keep the wound open, feed it with images until another wound appears and produces a diversion.” Roland Barthes, A Lover’s discourse
Live body puncturing and/or cutting. Opening wounds, creating an image, creating wounds to create feeling, expression outside of language – that which cannot be said through language. The creation of my body as a site of artistic expression. Site specific rupturing of the skin on my body. Take the image of the wound away, add it to your own collection.
As a performer who likes to prance around nude a bit I started to reflect about the role of nudity in performance art as opposed to the role of partial nudity in burlesque. There are many angles to consider this from but I am coming from an experiential position where nudity invokes an unsexy response from the audience. I recently did a performance where after a very restrained removal of my clothes I ended up standing nude for the audience. In other burlesque gigs where one poses and wears fabulous lingerie and gets off some but not all of it the crowd whoop and whistle and heckle. Standing front on and naked the crowd where silent. An odd giggle perhaps, a ‘what’s she gonna do next’, but no whistling or ownership of the image before them. Why? Perhaps the lack of lingerie removes the signifiers of ‘this is tease and it’s for you’. Perhaps the full nudity says ‘this is a woman’s body standing for herself embodied in its form’. This is what you might see if you walked into the bathroom to see your mum, sister or girlfriend. This is not sexy it is just sex – it seems strangely innocent of signifiers.
My body is tall, my boobs are reasonable, I am not skinny or fat, attractive apparently – I am a bit of a ‘normal’ chick (like there is such a thing). So why not whoop and whistle when I am naked? Do the final bits of lingerie, the g-string or the pasties give the audience permission to own the image? Are they as Baudrillard claims a mark/sign of the erotic? Does the full nudity and lack of pose simply distance the image from pornography – where our ladies constantly leave something on to offer contrast, to cover the hidden garden of Eden? Is the nude female body not what we have signified as ‘sexy’ but as ‘woman’ and the many contradictions of what that may mean? Perhaps I wasn’t objectifying myself enough to create titillation in the audience. Good. Maybe the non-eroticised naked body of a woman a confronting because this body is a subject and she knows it.
This weekend I did a gig at the Noise Bar in Melbourne. It was a fundraiser for ‘GECO’- a fabulous crew of activists saving the forests of East Gippsland. It was a punk gig and my executive HR Consultant character Ms Deluxe was called on to MC. She works for Sarina Russo Recruitment specialising in work for the dole programs and monitoring peoples ‘volunteer work’. At the end of a busy night of organising ‘f*king ferals’ and introducing performers Ms Deluxe finally gets her tea break. She melts down, the performance artist within takes over and her executive boundaries peel away! Poor pet, lunch for an HR consultant is never easy. It was an excellent night with great bands and other great performers. I love it when the ‘band’ scene hands over a good hour for performance to happen instead of trying to stuff us in between bands amongst incredible amounts of sound equipment on a carpeted stage. Fabulous night and this character is pumped for a public intervention somewhere soon – so look out for it!
Well my child, she has worked hard to have a passport to many places, none however can she call her home. Each time she crosses a border she wears many disguises, she tastes the spices, she sees the sights, hears the stories and leaves still with no sense of where she should be. Through time she has come to call the uncertainty home, to thrive in the lack of belonging, to eat from a table that it is not hers. Eventually she will be rooted out, exposed and punished accordingly. Indeed this has happened already when she crossed the border and called on the systems of a society to help her when she had no one else to turn to – they of course turned on her. They made certain she knew who she was, that she was not one of them, that she would never be one of them and that for her own good she should learn to just quietly sup from a table that she does not belong at. She has no where else to go.
C’mon Mickey. Take me to Disney Land, I wanna wear Mickey Ears, I wanna love you Mickey. Please Mickey?