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| Interview | long-term plan is to turn everything into a large interconnected organism. I don’t know if it is professionalised – but I’m definitely continually working on it as a structure. Of course, because A-Z West is also my home and personal space – and because I am by nature a private person – it isn’t really intended as a fully public interface. HDTS, on the other hand, is a project that is more inclusive and is always open to visitors and participants. There are several large parcels of land set aside for the projects, a home base ‘headquarters’ in downtown Joshua Tree, the website, and we also have a lot of volunteers and interns and collaborators who help pull everything off. Because there is so much activity and so many different people involved, there needs to be a lot of organisation and structure – though within this framework we still try to leave some wiggle room. And we still have trouble keeping up with the email. There are other platforms you have generated too – including the Smockshop and, of course, the Group Formerly Known as Smockshop. Yes, I really enjoy creating these structures and then setting them in motion. Not necessarily controlling them too much once they are actually up and running, but organising them well enough in the beginning that they can take on a life of their own. Do you still think they would work – creatively and economically – if you totally faded into the background? That is the eventual goal. Creatively, yes, I think they would, once I have pulled the right people in who generate the right energy to keep them in motion. Economically it is more difficult. Much of the time I’m trying to come up with a solution that will sustain these platforms without the need to apply for grants. I have been avoiding non-profit status and funding because I want to see if I can create something that is fully self-sustaining in its own right. Though for now I have to admit that most of these alternative practices are funded by income that I make through my commercial practice. It would be difficult to transfer the HDTS project effectively into a gallery or museum context. That is why I haven’t attempted it. To extract and re-present it in the right way would be really difficult. My show in summer 2010 at Sadie Coles was me attempting to speak precisely about this, the difference between having an experience and representing an experience. I find that I am always struggling with the various ideological constraints of representation. Over the past few years I have definitely covered some ground here but it is never an easy process. The key paradox would seem to be how to transfer the hot social dynamic of the group effectively into the tepid walls of the white cube. Yes. The way I have broken down my practice is that, generally, I make structures that can be used in relation to lived life. I do everything I can to ensure that. When these structures are on the verge of falling apart I extract them and aid their transition to an institution that will look after them and archive their history. If an object has as long and circuitous a trajectory as some of the ‘A-Z Vehicles’, then, when you see one of them in a museum, you get a sense of something that has really passed | 4 | through time and has a story to tell. But I only figured that out recently. Many of my earlier works felt too hermetically sealed because they weren’t allowed to play out a full lived life. Of course, gallery shows are always more difficult as usually they are presenting new works that don’t have a history. I think of the things in the gallery shows as being made for export. The works in these shows tend to be a little more reflexive or philosophical in nature – reflecting on the different structures I’m playing with that are more integrated into the direct experiences of lived life. Frequently I find problems with your gallery shows, but seldom with the museum ones. I guess there are a number of different strategies artists have used to either attempt to get around or draw attention to this paradox, like making the exhibition the site of the documentation of an activity that took place elsewhere or staging a performance in the space, turning it into a temporary workshop or social space of some kind; or, like Robert Smithson with his series of ‘Non-Sites’, drawing attention to the impossibility of the very thing you are trying to do. That’s interesting. I think that Smithson’s approach, from Partially Buried Woodshed in 1970 at Kent State to the ‘NonSites’ within commercial spaces, was often dead on. I wouldn’t ever perform lived life in a gallery since that would just be contrived. But I do like the idea of a physical energy of some sort running through the space. The Smockshop exhibitions were engaging – partly because the activity was displaced from you onto a collective, which fabricated the garments live in the gallery space. In the most literal way, this introduced the dynamic we have been speaking of, and the one I witnessed in London at Sprüth Magers was one of the best shows I have seen of yours in a commercial gallery space. That was a really exciting project, but I have to admit that I feel uncomfortable claiming the smockers’ energy as my own. Although I’m flattered you liked the project, unfortunately I don’t think that Smockshop was really a show by me. How has the art/life equation that so much of your practice turns on developed over the years – not just as a thematic but as a continuous series of personal experiences? Well, I think that my work has always evolved directly out of the act of living. Many things have changed: for instance, I have a kid now – and having responsibility for another human means I can’t live full-time in some of the living experiments that I used to subject myself to. But my work has always addressed freedom – or the illusion of it – and I think I’m now coming face to face with the moment where one has to accept limitations and create structure and meaning out of life as it is. ❚ Andrea Zittel is at Sprüth Magers, Berlin 25 February to 2 April. ALEX COLES is the author of The Transdisciplinary Studio, forthcoming from Sternberg Press. FEB 11 | ART MONTHLY | 343
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| Features 01 | Kathy Battista on feminist performance art in 1970s London Carolee Schneemann ICESTRIP 1972 FEB 11 | ART MONTHLY | 343 In the 1970s, the medium of performance, which shunned the traditional hierarchy of the plastic arts, became an increasingly important presence in the debates on gender. For many feminist artists in the UK, live art was an ideological tool, and an important vehicle to interpret and present their ideas to the public. It is imperative to acknowledge the futility of a universal approach to this art form. Some artists engaged in performances that featured their naked bodies or focused on the biological aspects of gender. This camp, including Catherine Elwes, the Manchester-based Linder and expat Carolee Schneemann, believed the use of the body – specifically that of the artist herself – elevated the female form from muse to master while exposing previously taboo topics. Others, including Rose Finn-Kelcey, Tina Keane, Hannah O’Shea, Silvia Ziranek and Anne Bean, refused to engage with nudity, fearing that artistic intention did not equate to reception, thus preferring to avoid a perceived dangerous interstitial space where performance could morph into titillation. Many of these artists focused on language or symbolic ritual as key elements in the live act. One commonality between the disparate approaches to feminist performance art in the UK was the focus on alternative sites of production and presentation. Long before major museums would embrace performance, early practitioners sought spaces that would be amenable to their work. Alternative galleries in London such as Garage, SPACE and AIR supported such work by hosting live art by Keane, the Moodies, Finn-Kelcey and Bobby Baker. In certain instances the artists wanted venues outside the gallery context: alternative sites, from swimming pools to mobile homes and trains in transit, were often the host to these events. The spontaneous nature that these sites provided added to the allure of the performance. Finn-Kelcey’s One for Sorrow Two for Joy, 1976, was performed in a window at street level, while Bean and Ziranek presented live acts beside and in the Thames. These highly visible and unexpected locations in the city rendered the scope of reception for these works to a wider and more generalised audience. Domestic spaces, or situations in which feminist artists were obliged to harness their creativity in the home because of financial and familial constraints, were also important for the development of such practice. This work is typically inextricably connected with the domestic Performing Feminism | 5 |

| Features 01 |

Kathy Battista on feminist performance art in 1970s London

Carolee Schneemann ICESTRIP 1972

FEB 11 | ART MONTHLY | 343

In the 1970s, the medium of performance, which shunned the traditional hierarchy of the plastic arts, became an increasingly important presence in the debates on gender. For many feminist artists in the UK, live art was an ideological tool, and an important vehicle to interpret and present their ideas to the public. It is imperative to acknowledge the futility of a universal approach to this art form. Some artists engaged in performances that featured their naked bodies or focused on the biological aspects of gender. This camp, including Catherine Elwes, the Manchester-based Linder and expat Carolee Schneemann, believed the use of the body – specifically that of the artist herself – elevated the female form from muse to master while exposing previously taboo topics. Others, including Rose Finn-Kelcey, Tina Keane, Hannah O’Shea, Silvia Ziranek and Anne Bean, refused to engage with nudity, fearing that artistic intention did not equate to reception, thus preferring to avoid a perceived dangerous interstitial space where performance could morph into titillation. Many of these artists focused on language or symbolic ritual as key elements in the live act.

One commonality between the disparate approaches to feminist performance art in the UK was the focus on alternative sites of production and presentation. Long before major museums would embrace performance, early practitioners sought spaces that would be amenable to their work. Alternative galleries in London such as Garage, SPACE and AIR supported such work by hosting live art by Keane, the Moodies, Finn-Kelcey and Bobby Baker. In certain instances the artists wanted venues outside the gallery context: alternative sites, from swimming pools to mobile homes and trains in transit, were often the host to these events. The spontaneous nature that these sites provided added to the allure of the performance. Finn-Kelcey’s One for Sorrow Two for Joy, 1976, was performed in a window at street level, while Bean and Ziranek presented live acts beside and in the Thames. These highly visible and unexpected locations in the city rendered the scope of reception for these works to a wider and more generalised audience.

Domestic spaces, or situations in which feminist artists were obliged to harness their creativity in the home because of financial and familial constraints, were also important for the development of such practice. This work is typically inextricably connected with the domestic

Performing Feminism

| 5 |

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