Melati Suryodarmo and art naming 奇能

An intergenerational conversation on performance art
By Vivyan Yeo

This article is a preview of the content published in CHECK-IN, a new annual publication by Art & Market. To read the full article, stay tuned for our launch of the e-publication, or pre-order a physical copy.

Performance art is heralded as the most direct of art forms. Rather than a hidden genius, the artist faces the audience as a human who is front and centre. Yet, it is amongst the most uncommon art forms to be exhibited in galleries and museums. What is it about the body that differentiates it from other mediums? How do performance artists archive their works? Do they need to train their bodies to create performance art?

To find answers to these questions, I had a Zoom conversation on 7 April 2021 with pioneering Indonesian artist Melati Suryodarmo and emerging Singaporean practitioner art naming 奇能. In 2020, the two met in Solo, Indonesia at Cinemovement LAB VI, an annual mentorship programme that focuses on an interdisciplinary approach to dance filmmaking. There, art participated in several workshops led by Melati.

Meeting on Zoom a year later, the two artists delve into pertinent topics such as the ever-changing nature of the human body, the strange relationship between performing and documenting, the complexities of collecting performance art and the importance of kindness in the art world. 

Portrait of art naming 奇能. Photo by Julianne Thomson. 

Portrait of art naming 奇能. Photo by Julianne Thomson. 

Vivyan: How did you first embark on performance art and what drew you to the medium in particular? 

art: I started using my body when I performed in theatre about 10 years ago. Back then, I realised that I didn't like to talk or use a script much. After a few years, I thought of trying a performance piece and very simply recreated Marina Abramovic’s ‘Rhythm 0’. It was so strange, because people in my school then were like wow, this is “performance art”. But for me, I was just trying it out for the first time, and it suddenly became a thing. From there, I became interested in how performance art is a transient act that is happening only in the moment... I want to tell a more exciting story, which I am sure, Melati, you can.

Portrait of Melati Suryodarmo. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Portrait of Melati Suryodarmo. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Melati: It is a long story for me. Why I came to performance art has something to do with my fate. I was not planning to be an artist. Since I was a child, I knew Butoh, a form of Japanese dance theatre, because my dad worked with a Butoh company in my hometown. In 1992, I took a Butoh workshop and my body fell in love with it. Later in life, when I was in Germany with zero plans, I happened to meet Anzu Furukawa at Braunscheweig’s botanical gardens. We were just talking, and I was surprised to hear that she was a professor of performance art at Hochschule für Bildende Künste (HBK), and also a Butoh dancer and choreographer. You know, I am the kind of person who never really dreamt too far ahead; I am afraid of dreaming. But that moment changed my entire life. I became Furukawa’s student in the performance art programme at HBK, and soon after, Marina Abramovic came to teach. Maybe I am a very lucky person. Till today, I believe that every moment is very special, and even talking to you both now on Zoom is very special.

I tried to understand the spirit of Butoh, which appeared after World War II. It emerged from a period of political activism, breaking the conventionality of dance and having grotesque visuals. I always question how art functions in our world. What change does it bring? How do we interpret our own body and connect with our social, political and cultural environments? 

If we look at mankind, everything is changing all the time. The body is a live element that has this same quality of change. What makes performance art different from, for example, dance and rituals? What moves you to move? Who are you, and what are you doing? There are so many layers that performance artists should prepare.

The body is a medium that I have been learning to use since childhood. It took me a long, long time. When I think about an idea, I always look for references and materials. I learn again and read again. Maybe it takes me longer now because I am older. I am 52 years old now and I need to see my body differently. Of course, you can be old and still perform. I do not want to live as a woman who gets lost being unconfident in her body. I want to encourage other women not to worry because their spirit is still moving. I learnt that from Marina; she is 75 and I know her body is quite weak at the moment, but her spirit is amazing. I will be embarrassed if I stopped using my body to express my ideas.

art: It feels so different. You decided to do performance art quite late in your life. I am younger than you, but I feel as if I am already so old. What is happening? I feel like I am slowing down with my own work. I used to do more in the past. I do not know if it is because as I get older, there are more things to care about like my work, my body and my relationships with other people. Maybe it is also because I have higher expectations of the work I make.

I used to think that I need an audience to perform. That is generally seen as a rule for performance art, because you need someone to interact with. But for me, it has more recently become an act for myself, regardless of the audience. The audience aspect only comes much later if there is an opportunity to present a show to the public.

I am also now thinking about what you said of the relationship between body and time. I feel that someone’s spirit always stays the same and it is the body as a vessel that changes. These days, a lot of the work I do deals with the tension between the temporary nature of life and what is supposedly constant or lasting. There's also this strange relationship between performing and documenting. In my view, the documentation, which is usually seen as a separate thing, is a part of the performance too.

Melati, you write, take photos, make installations and films. Are the processes behind all these mediums the same? 

Melati Suryodarmo performing ‘Conversation with the Black’ at Manila Contemporary, 2011. @Melati Suryodarmo. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Melati Suryodarmo performing ‘Conversation with the Black’ at Manila Contemporary, 2011. @Melati Suryodarmo. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Melati: I think the most important thing is how my ideas can be delivered in the best way. I do the thinking first and decide the medium later. It may be drawing, photography, video, music or performance. As for the documentation stage, I am educated in a very simple manner. If your performance is live and time-based, it has a different quality every time you repeat it. The only ways you can document it are with photography or video. Marina Abramovic is the best because she has all the documentation of her works created since the 1990s.

It is a complex thing. Sometimes it is not possible to afford a camera, a photographer, or a videographer. Other times, you get the video, but you do not have the equipment to edit it. I think the younger generation must know how to deal with this issue. What happens if your performance is being captured by an audience member with a mobile phone and uploaded immediately onto their social media channels? What is the value of your work? Do you think your work is like in a museum, where people are not allowed to take photos? Sometimes, I let people use social media to capture my work, but I think there is no high value in that. It may be good for promotional purposes, but I will not use social media content as part of my own archive. 

art naming 奇能, ‘I Am Here For You’, 2019, performance documentation. Image courtesy of art naming 奇能.

art naming 奇能, ‘I Am Here For You’, 2019, performance documentation. Image courtesy of art naming 奇能.

Vivyan: I want to jump in on that point on archiving performance work. art, you made a piece called ‘I Am Here For You’ in 2019 and it documents several performance pieces you created in the form of a book. In it, there are texts you wrote yourself, as well as photographs taken by audience members. Could you tell us more about that?

art: My choice of making the work in this way came out of limitation. Many younger artists like me want to submit proof of our work for grants but oftentimes, we are just starting out without resources to make a professional video. Because of that, I thought about documenting without such equipment and seeing what happens. It is the same as what Melati said; you can never replicate a live performance, right? So, I do not want to do that. Some audiences see a form of documentation and feel as if they have watched the actual performance. But that is not true, because the audience was not there while it was taking place. With a different time, location and medium, the experiences generated are very different. Through a book, I am creating a separate circumstance for them to experience the work. I first thought of using a non-visual way to document my work, which is writing. Then, getting the audience to take photos was my way of letting them feel invested in the performance. I wanted them to think, “what is a good time to take a photo?” or “what can I look out for?”

Melati: I think the most important part of archiving your own work is to give respect to yourself for your own sweat, time and energy. It is basically about how you choose to preserve a moment. My focus on this topic became useful because people want to collect my work. I need money badly, of course, to survive. Performance artists are famous for being the poorest artists because they cannot earn from their work. You get paid properly at dance or theatre festivals, but museums and galleries still do not consider performance art to be created from a lot of time, energy and thinking.

Making an edition of a performance documentation is interesting and important, not only economically, but also when thinking about how people will see my work in the future. I learnt from Marina, again, who told me to never throw away my sketches. It is not about saving them for a future exhibition. It is about the time I spent on them. If you do not keep them in a proper way, it is like you are wasting your time. Some artists sell their performance itself, not the documentation, which I used to think was very dangerous. I thought that was a bit too much against the spirit of performance art and that I would rather be more careful.

But now, as I am older, I am thinking, how about the body as a living archive? How do you perform an archive? If I die, it would still be better if somebody performed my piece, not by acting or reading but with their own mind.

To read the second half of the conversation, pre-order a physical copy of CHECK-IN or stay tuned for the launch of the e-publication. Melati and art continue discussing topics such as the challenges in collecting performance art, having another artist re-perform a work, and the training one undergoes to prepare for a performance.

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