« An artist may be responsible for apparent messages in their work, even when they are not correctly ascribed to it , and for ambiguity of message, even where unintentional. »
(Levinson, J. 1997, ´Art and Its’ Messages: Meaning, Morality and Society’, edited by Davies, S,´Messages in Art’, pp.70-83. The Pennsylvania State University Press, Pennsylvania.)
When we talk about our own experience as a spectator, are we using a subjective or objective criteria, or are both necessary to discover the meaning of our own experience and whether we have perceived the artist’s intention. A first response to a work of art, or dance work, is usually subjective, one might suggest, producing an immediate response such as like/ dislike. We might then experience diverse emotions, from delight to discomfort for example and might then want to question these experiences, and what they mean to us, by looking at the object itself more analytically and researching its‘ history and the intentions of the artist. From our position of having the experience we then look at the thing which stimulated that experience.
Although spectators come from diverse backgrounds they might have one commonality in that the first viewing of a work of art elicits a subjective experience and not everyone will find it necessary to seek further meaning to their initial response. However, when reviewing a work of art, in a gallery or reproduction, one has more time to assess what is going on in that work. In contrast, dance movement disappears the second we have witnessed it, after only one viewing it is difficult to recall exactitudes, we all know the mind can trick us, but we should be able to recall our experience as a whole, and some instances in particular which enriched this experience. Looking at dance as an object is arguably mo
I first became aware of Andres Serrano’s work » Immersion (Piss Christ) « as a title that had caused controversy. Knowing this I was cautious as to how I might actually view the work, albeit on an electronic device. When I did see it my initial censorship was dispelled by the luminescent amber and gold tones drawing my gaze toward a simple crucifix. I felt as if I wanted to be immersed in light and contemplation. In short, I felt light. Curious as to the intention placed in the title I researched the work to discover that the crucifix was plain wood with a plastic Christ, which had been placed in a glass casket filled with Serrano’s urine and photographed. Serrano stated that this was conceived as a comment on the commercialisation of religious artefacts to the point where original symbolism is lost. Contemporary society seems incapable of engaging or empathising with these symbols of human suffering or contemplating deeper meaning. Serrano used urine to depict natural function and the ‘messy’ nature of pain.
The work was first shown at the Stux Gallery, New York (1987), Piss Christ was favourably received but provoked outrage in some religious and right wing organisations who regarded it as blasphemous. The photograph was eventually destroyed in Avignon, France, on Palm Sunday, 2011. The perpetrators, a group of young Catholic fundamentalists, were apparently unaware of the irony of their action in violently plunging a hammer into the image of Christ. (Chrisafis, Angélique. 2011, The Guardian). In acquiring this knowledge had i increased or decreased my initial experience? On revisiting the image my feelings remained the same except I had more admiration for the work through comprehension and historical knowledge. I also felt it worked as art and focused attention on a moral issue, provoking divisive argument of a socio-political nature which extended beyond the artistic relevance of Piss Christ.
Viewing dance offers a transient experience from a fixed position. The spectator is static and therefore restricted to only one angle through which to view something which is in motion. The experience is of a unique event, even if one could afford to see the same dance work several times, there might be variations in interpretation and dynamic affecting appreciation, even though the choreographic structure is unchanged. A ballet audience will have different expectations to that of a contemporary dance performance, even though there are increasingly more contemporary choreographers creating works for classical companies. Does ballet work? Can it influence debate and inspire us to be introspective, or is it fixed as an elevated and beautiful thing that helps us to escape terrestrial concerns for a few hours.
What did I expect a ballet entitled « The Judas Tree » to look like? I knew it would be in Kenneth MacMillan’s style and would be difficult to dance and to watch ( mainly because I had seen a rehearsal and spoke with some of the dancers). However, I could not anticipate what my experience would be.
I attended the first performance of « The Judas Tree » at The Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, on March 19th, 1992. My primary memory of the experience was as the curtain came down at the end, my head felt like a heavy grey mist, confusion soon gave way to anger. A certain greyness existed in Brian Elias‘s metallic but atmospheric score, providing an eerie soundscape to the stage set. Designed by Jock McFadyen the set portrayed the grim structures of Canary Wharf lurking behind a building site scattered with rubbish. Men on the site, presumably construction workers led by a foreman, are interrupted by the arrival of a woman wrapped in a white shawl, which she discards to reveal her scantily clad body which she employs to seduce and taunt the men. During much angular posing, strutting, and awkward grappling the woman is gang raped, comforted, killed, one of the men is lynched and the foreman hangs himself. The woman is seen again at the end, wrapped in her white shawl, as if resurrected.
It is not imperative for a spectator to like what they see or to experience emotion but this ballet was so dense that it required some explanation, other than some critiques that it was voyeuristic and misogynistic. My feelings of anger were that it could be interpreted as gentrifying rape, violence, and suicide, and using it in an attempt to shock, particularly in the context that it might upset the privileged few who happen to be patrons of Royal institutions. Representing sex and violence in ballets is confined by a certain movement vocabulary, elegant designs, and pointe shoes, there is a notable absence of mess and body fluids. The way in which women recount their own rape experience was a world away from what I saw in The Judas Tree, and I saw that distinction as demeaning those with lived experience. On the official Kenneth Macmillan website it states: « this ballet is about betrayal and guilt », more precisely the collective will. A note from the programme quoted some lines from Kahlil Gibran’s book, The Prophet, taken from the section entitled « On crime and punishment »
« As a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree, so the wrongdoer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all. »
Sadly, without programme notes it was hard to see any material evidence within the construction of the ballet that might suggest complicity and betrayal; unless the spectator themselves felt complicit in viewing something as cultural entertainment rather than asking themselves searching questions about the human condition. In retrospect it was sad that this was to be Macmillan‘s last ballet and possibly not the best swan song.
I was surprised by my responses to both works, not least by the power and validity of Serrano’s work and the banality of »The Judas Tree » which had the potential to influence debate, for example on the treatment of women, sex as power, contempt for the sacred, betrayal, and suicide, but was merely depressing.
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