The piece was described in the leaflet with brevity; a single sentence invited you to ‘join the artist in her photography studio and embark on a journey of self discovery’. My first thought was of horror. Is this going to be about having to show bits of myself? Is there going to be nakedness?! I reasoned that this was unlikely – extreme even for live art to ask the audience to reveal parts of their own bodies. However, the piece was in some ways perhaps not too distant an experience from this. Vulnerability in another form, the voyeuristic eye of the camera probing in attempt to find some kind of ‘truth’, or reveal the social means with which we hide ourselves.

I signed up with Chloe. Although a one-to-one performance, we were informed that it was permitted to go in as two and, having seen everything else together, we continued the trend. Upon entering we were greeted by (I assume) the artist, holding a photographic camera, who told us to make ourselves at home (to which Chloe laughed – how do you make your self at home in a photographer’s studio!).

‘Now can we have a few minutes with no talking’.

No talking. Great! This was good news for me. I have a slight and compulsive dread of talking in proximity to any kind of camera - possibly a hangover from my shy teenage days of train-track teeth. Or just shyness. Ok, so no talking. What next?  We stood on and in front of a white backdrop, which took up most of the room. The photographer looks on with a blank expression and promptly starts taking photos. Of us. Of our reaction. Of our being caught in the flashlights. Of our confusion about what to do.

Chloe’s reaction to the experience was strong, and negative. She started miming – a way to test the rule we had been instructed to follow. Chloe wrote me a note briefly expressing her angst (although still remaining silent), and then left the room, leaving me alone with the photographer and her camera.

Well this is strange.

Something in me started to enjoy this unusual experience. Photograph after photograph. So much attention! I felt I was an Andy Warhol subject, or a muse.

I soon got tired however of the lack of engagement with the other person in the room; the artist.  It’s all one way! It would be good to ask her why she is doing this. ‘I can’t talk’, felt like ‘I can’t communicate’. I began to mimic her posture and her small movements leaning against the wall. She rubbed her left hand, so I rubbed my left hand. She stuck her tongue out, so I stuck out mine. I performed for her. I allowed her to take my image.

Recently I have been thinking a lot about the photograph in relation to the live performance, and about the potential of collapsing the two into a single event. In The”O” Project, not every moment is photographed. Iulia Filipovscaia is editing the photographic record of the piece as it progresses. Perhaps it doesn’t matter. She has set up a situation that relies mostly on the participants to create or just become the subject matter. And this editing is her main involvement as the situation unfolds.  It’s an unusual amount of pressure on an audience, albeit now an audience of one. There is seemingly no content other then the reaction of the unwitting participant. This is a performance stripped bare, yet heavy with intent and knowing-ness. Yet, the artist is in control - because of their knowledge of what the piece entails, the frequency of photo-taking, and because of the request for no talking.

There is a power over the audience that becomes apparent during the experience; do you play game and do something interesting? Or is refusing to play still part of the game?  Staying means giving permission. But leaving is just another reaction. What does the artist want?  In not knowing and not asking, the audience is unremittingly complicit - they cannot but react.

In some ways The “O” Project reveals photography’s inevitable impact and intervention on what or who is being photographed.  The presence of a camera changes a situation; it forces a desire to either escape the camera’s gaze, or ‘perform’ for it.

But more importantly then that, by politely agreeing to silence, the participant maintains the situation set up by the artist. The same silence which highlights the unpleasant vulnerability of being photographed by a stranger in an unfamiliar situation.

There is something about this perceived need to comply with the artist’s requirements despite discomfort, that reveals political aspects of performances that depend on the audience’s participation. This is about the power of instruction when the artist is present, about participation and complicity, and the implications of being kept in the dark about the true meaning of your involvement.

Afterward, I chat to a Goldsmiths MFA Curating student. She informs me that a previous version of this performance involved a second stage in which the participant is asked to wear a blindfold. I wonder how I would react to that, and feel grateful for not having been asked to find out.

Louisa Martin

www.louisamartin.info

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Responding to:

Iulia Filipovscaia

The “O” Project (2007-2010), performance

At

23-24 January 2010
Testing Ground: Live at 176
Saturday 2 - 10 pm
Sunday 2 - 6pm
Performances and events curated by students from Goldsmiths MFA Curating and Royal College of Art MA Curating Contemporary Art (Work Based).

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Find out more about Iulia Filipovscaia:

www.ifilipovscaia.co.uk