PhD Research Blog: Performance, Photography and Documentation

On Location 3: Appliqué

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Mon, 04 Mar 2013 11:04:00 +0000

As part of my investigation into queering spaces and creating a queer intervention on your surroundings, I decided to go to a bar in Falmouth and apply some make up. This is envisaged to be a series of performances of putting on make up in public places and how people react to it.

Again, I can't tell you how scary this was - the knowledge that you were going to do it, but the people around you probably don't know what the hell is happening and probably don't even care. Still, the intrusive presence of the camera makes people shaky. As soon as you start clicking off photos, people think, "What is he taking pictures of?", or they move out of the frame, or object to their privacy being invaded.

So I set up the tripod, but then I bottled it. Fortunately, I was waiting for a friend and so I waited until she came and she said, "Not doing it is sometimes just as important as doing it" and I think this is an important discovery – asking ourselves why we feel this way. The reason I wanted to do it was because I knew the gesture would look strong on the image, but I was surprised that I still felt constrained by perceived societal gender roles.

Determined, I downed three pints of milk stout and – emboldened by beer – I asked my friend if she would press the button while I put on make up.

One of the biggest problems was that it took place indoor and I had to compensate for the indoor light. I wanted a reasonable depth of field so I had an aperture size of 8, but that meant the exposure was quite long – 1.6 seconds. The ISO setting also had to be boosted to 500... I really wanted as little grain as possible. Example shot:

I wore a suit to emphasis the male gender performative in order to openly subvert that with make up and provide a strong masculine/feminine contrast.

At one point, someone came up to me and asked what i was doing. I just honestly replied "It's a piece called Appliqué about putting on make up in public places." He then went on to tell me that once upon a time he studied photography and we laughed about Jeff Wall, before he moved on.

I took 74 photos but only two quite captured the effect of Appliqué. Because of the low light, it was only the strong red colour of the lipstick that managed to show through. And so I colourised this to emphasise the monochromatic flavour of the scene:

Appliqué

The long exposure time actually adds to the anonymity of the people in my surroundings because of the motion blur as they turn their heads, coupled with the removal of colour, the queer gesture of applying the lipstick actually becomes something that 'gives colour' to the scene. The figure in the foreground looks off into the distance, momentarily distracted. The lipstick runs off the lips... Is this an absent-minded gesture or is it a sign of mania? Are the people dressed in reds and blues in the background also tainted in a different colour? Are they tainted with queerness?

I feel like Appliqué could become a series... Perhaps if I just distilled it down to a man in a suit applying lipstick rather than 'full make up' it would be simple, but encapsulate a sense of queerness and this would be a quick, simple action that would be less intimidating.

On Location 2: Night Shooting, Urban Setting

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Fri, 08 Feb 2013 13:23:00 +0000

I have been wanting to do an experiment for a long time now where I took the last stage of my performance 'The King of Beauty" in which he dresses up as Miss America and take it to a bus stop at night. This required quite a lot of confidence. The first time I tried to do this, I got all dressed up in make up, got the props and camera, drove to the bus stop, saw one person and then I bolted back home.

With more resolve – and at a later time slot – I decided to brave the outdoors.

Firstly, I remembered two things that Dave Mann told me: the flash will freeze the person in the photo and the long exposure time will capture any ambient light. What I hadn't accounted for was:

a) lens flare – even though I had a lens hood, the sheer amount of light in the urban setting from streetlights and cars inevitably causes flare
b) speckling – some of the pictures were destroyed by a speckling effect from the light, which appears on the image as missing pixels and is very hard to repair and
c) the inevitable motion blur – Some of the pictures were ruined by the long exposure time. It was cold and windy, I can imagine I was probably shivering, which has translated onto the image as motion blur

The camera also took a while to process the image after taking the shot, making continuous shooting fairly difficult.

However, it wasn't a total loss:

Miss America In Suburbia 1

As you can see there is a rubbish truck behind me which crawled very slowly along the street as I was taking pictures – I'm sure all the garbage truck men were having a good guffaw as they saw me. There were also two girls who popped out at one point to point and laugh. However, after those two experiences, I thought it couldn't possibly get any worse, so it made it easier to persist and push past that once the initial embarrassment had disappeared.

The most annoying thing about motion blur is that the clarity of the expression was lost:

Miss America In Suburbia 2

As you can see, where the flash 'froze' the model, there is motion blur, but the second one was much clearer. However, something is lost in the clarity. As an aside, an interesting effect I really loved was that at intermittent points, cars would zoom by and here you can see that as a trace of red light due to the long exposure. It really added a sense of life still going by as the photo was being taken.

The best shot of the night also used this ghosting effect:

Miss America In Suburbia 3

A few elements come together in this picture: a couple of cars came by at the same time so you have a brightness from the road. It also uses the 'double contrasting gesture' I experimented with in my very first shoot to provide some kind of juxtaposition, in addition to the ghosting effect I have been testing. I think this 'ghosting + double gesture' could be an interesting way to proceed with this.

I think I also need a more effective way of monitoring how the shots are going 'on-site' as taking photos of yourself, reviewing, running back can be an arduous process. This is easier with tethering in the studio as you can instantly see it on the computer, but I'm wondering if there is a camera with a larger display, for example, that would help me see how the shots are turning out 'as I go'.

On the whole, I'm glad I got this one out of my system. It didn't turn out quite how I wanted it to – I wanted to emphasise the hysteria and isolation of this Miss America figure. Several things could be done to help this. Taking someone out with me might be a massive confidence boost for a start. Also it might be worth considering doing this as a daytime shoot to see the contrast between night and day light, and whether it adds/detracts. Additionally I'm quite satisfied with the capturing of the ambient light as I think the exposure of the pictures was actually very good and well balanced in contrast with the flash.

Studio 2: Party surprise!

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Fri, 08 Feb 2013 12:05:00 +0000

Armed with my new studio knowledge, I decided to go back into the studio and try something a bit more difficult. It is proposed that part of my project will have to do with capturing the 'instantaneous' or that flash of lightning that occurs within performance. To try and demonstrate this, I bought some party poppers to try and catch them mid-pop. There was a bit more pressure on this one. I had one bag, which equals 20 poppers, which in turn meant I only had 20 shots in order to get it right.

The only problem I had was setting up the lighting. Initially, I tried to put everything at the front of the studio, but the lights in the back kept getting in the way, so I just moved everything to the back and shot it there with two lights. I metered the lights and got them bang on f/8 for a 1/125 shutter speed. I noticed that the lights threw two shadows (one for each light source) and I quite liked this effect, though I noted that next time it might be interesting to use a diffuser to try and mute the shadowing effect.

Party pop 1

I also turned the house lights off, which gave a soft 'vignetting' style around the background, which I really liked as it framed the picture. This effect was less evident when the house lights were left on. I started to notice that there was almost a 'knowledge' as to whether a shot had worked or not. You can actually see when the flash goes off if the light has caught the party popper mid air or not and there was something satisfying about that sense of 'capturing' the exact moment.

Party pop 2

What I like about the above image is the 'anonymity' of the figure. I have begun to nitce that once you shoot, although it is strictly self-portraiture, you do start to disassociate yourself with the figure in the picture. In these shots, I feel very much as though I am 'demonstrating' an action, which is quite Brechtian in it's way. I discussed this with Sian, who also agreed and said that the gesture act as a 'poitner' or signifier to something else. This contrasts with the work of someone like Cindy Sherman who is definitely trying to embed the 'self' into the photo. This particular shoot actually draws more parallels with someone like Bruce Naumann. To that end I love the 'anonymity' of the above shot. It has all the 'surprise' of the party popper, but it could be coming from anywhere. Also, an interesting unintended side effect of the focus in the above shot is that the end of the streamers are in focus and it gets progressively out of focus.

Party pop 3

Also an unintended effect produced above is that the blue streamer touches the very edge of the frame, giving the composition a '3D' effect, or makes interesting use of depth of field in order to give relational perspective to the shot. This emphasises the viewer/performer relationship and gives them a sense of how and where they are in relation to the person in the image.

A thing to note in these pictures is the use of space: I am becoming increasingly aware of composition and 'face on' or centred shots can obliterate the whole perspective of the shot. It's better to place yourself off centre and use the rest of the space in an interesting way in order to give a sense of that space you're occupying.

I'm interested in the contrast between studio and location setting. Both have their own specific challenges: while on location seems like it might be more unpredictable, there is actually something more 'thrilling' about it and the fact that it is more gritty not only contributes to the spontaneity of the shoot, but also to the framing of the constructed reality of the shot.

In the studio, it's much safer but because of that a chasing of perfectionism can become evident. There is no reason not to get the perfect shot as you can shoot continuously until it happens. However, that shot is almost as spontaneous as any other – there's no telling when it will come. I can see studio shooting can easily be quite intensive.

I am looking forward to going back into the studio and developing the above shots. I really feel there is an interesting and impulsive feeling to these shots and – as ever – it's about re-shooting until you get the perfect picture.

Studio Flash Photography: An induction

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Mon, 04 Feb 2013 10:45:00 +0000

As some of you may know from my post about my very first time in the studio, before I came to Falmouth I hadn't really investigated studio photography and so – to that end – my supervisor Sian Bonnell arranged an induction for me with the very awesome Dave Mann. He took me through the studio and I also got the chance to ask him some questions about my technical difficulties I've experienced so far. Thanks Dave – you helped me so much and I'm really itching to put everything into practice!

Firstly, we went through the studio basics, such as health and safety. But I'm going to attempt to repeat everything Dave told me to make sure I've understood how everything works. Firstly, a light actually has two lights: the modelling light and the flash bulb. The flash is actually what 'goes off' when the camera clicks. The lower the setting, the shorter the time the flash goes off - good for 'freezing' action. The higher it is, the longer the flash will be on.

If your camera is set to a shutter speed of higher that 1/200, you'll get black bars on the image so it's best to set your camera to 1/125 and then meter from there. However, it's actually the aperture that controls flash – shutter speed controls the ambient lighting.

The lights are set at increments that range from 0.5 to 6.0 and can be adjusted in 0.1 increments. 10 increments equals one f/stop on the camera, so if you meter and it comes up with f/11 and 6 bars, you would turn the light down by 1.6 to give a perfect reading of f/8 and 1/125 shutter speed.

Using one light, Dave very kindly modelled for me:

1 studio light to the photographer's right

As you can see, on the left hand side of the image is a very stark shadow, and also the camera captures a slight grey on the background. In order to compensate for this one black polyboard was put to the right of the light in order to stop throwing light to the back of the studio.

1 black polyboard

This gives a completely black background. However, it makes the left hand more stark. To that end, a white polyboard can be used to reflect the light on the left hand side.

1 black polyboard, 1 white polyboard

As you can see, the shadow is slightly more graduated, providing more definition. My first question to Dave was how do you get a white background. Dave suggested metering the background to ensure it's the same as your foreground lights and lighting the background with the same flash. This means the highlights in the wall are also detected by camera:

But you can also turn the flash up one full stop (e.g 10 increments) higher than the flash light in front. Dave says this is good for bleaching and can bleach out blemishes such as crinkles in paper, or foot marks:

You can also just whack the lights up, but this comes out so overbleached you lose the lines/edges of the picture:

Though not technically 'wrong' this lighting choice is obviously made by the photographer.

I also asked Dave about night photography, and he set up a practical example in the studio.

In this picture, the flash freezes the model in the foreground and completely obliterates the background, due to faster shutter speed. This is a good example of how shutter speed controls ambient lighting.

And in this picture, even though we have motion blur in the background from a longer exposure and hand-holding, the flash freezes the model in the foreground. In this way, motion blur can create an interesting artistic effect.

However, even with longer exposure times on a tripod, this 'flashing' then captures ambient light in the background without over-exposing the subject in the foreground.

All I can do now is employ what I learned in the studio, so wish me luck for the next time I go in!

What the Camera Sees (And Shouldn't See)

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Sun, 27 Jan 2013 21:17:00 +0000

So far my investigations have focused on things that have been aimed directly at the camera, or that the figure in the photo has a knowledge of the camera that is being posed at them. I decided to stage an investigation that was much more private and perhaps more sinister. In this setting, the camera becomes a voyeur. Or, perhaps voyeur is too passive a word as the camera becomes more like something that exposes – quite literally – the subject.

In fact, 'exposure' becomes quite an interesting term if we take it both in a literal and photographic term. To expose something in photography is to shed light on it – it is an act of 'throwing light' on a subject. Perhaps this is why we believe in the veracity of the photograph: we believe that it brings something to light that was previously kept in the dark. In the very early days of photography, this was perceived to be the 'tabula rasa' of the film: an uncarved block that could only have what was exposed by light impressed on its surface. However, exposure takes on a deeper meaning when the camera makes all acts – including private acts – public. The camera loves to expose as – through angle, frame and lighting – it reflects things back at you in a new light. The camera is not a voyeur, but sometimes a very vicious tattle-tale who only sees things from its own perspective.

In this investigation, I Heart Television, I decided to invert the knowledge of the camera, or the expectation of enactment happening when the still image is viewed, and make it an exposer – an intrusion on an extremely private act. It started with a literal interpretation of a gesture, loving your television, and took it to a level of mania and hysteria.

I'm not saying that the poses or acts weren't staged – obviously they were – but I tried to introduce a mania or erotic impulsivity to it.

Tuning In

Television Love

The set up of these pictures felt very 'Readers Wives': there was something very domestic about the shots and very seedy about the setting adding to the image's uneasiness. Also, the deranged and ominous motivations behind the gesture – clearly driven by eroticism – provide

I found this series became replete when it followed a sequence and had a poignant 'ending':

I Heart Television

Here we can see the mania and the indulgence, as well as the love and entertainment the TV provides, but for me it's the last image that completes it. It feels like a frenzied action driven by an uncontrollable eroticism, which then inevitably ends in shame. The camera exposes this shame and amplifies it. It focuses on the ridiculousness and makes the figure in the picture feel it. It makes the viewer feel uneasy for peeping into this private act. And what is most surprising is that even though the act is sexual, the over-riding question (or perhaps it is underlying) is did the person actually enjoy this act? The pleasure seems to be taken beyond the point of pleasure to sadness and pain.

I think the interesting thing about this experiment is what is it the camera should see, and should it expose what it sees? Do we even have a choice about what is exposed by the camera and what isn't? To the camera, all acts are fair game.

Also, there is a difference between the knowledge of the presence of the camera and a sense of enactment where the figure expects to be viewed, and presenting the viewer with a sense of privacy and a 'forced enactment'. This 'force' presents the viewer with unease, but could also give birth to intrigue.

On Location 1: The Beach

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Mon, 21 Jan 2013 21:22:00 +0000

I've recently been interested by the idea of the performance intervention, or how an intervention leaves very little trace after it happens. The intervention is a gesture that has an accidental audience at the time of capture and is usually documented as a still image after the fact. The viewers of the still image are a more considered audience and the intervention is re-enacted when the image is viewed as an encounter between the photograph and the viewer.

Taking advantage of Falmouth's varied scenery (rural, beach etc), I decided to start investigating this sense of intervention, by using elements of the absurd to intrude on the landscape. For my first investigation, I decided to go to the beach on one of the coldest days in January and have an impromptu beach party. The actions were simple – for instance trying to pour a glass of wine or blowing a party blower in front of the camera. Of course, I also dressed in a party hat, frilly shirt and bow tie.

There were two elements to this: firstly, it was the confidence to actually dress up and just 'do' something. Secondly, it was how well I could take these images by myself on location. I decided to use natural light and set the camera to a low ISO setting (200) to try and retain as much natural light as possible. I did plan more actions, such as popping party poppers, but it was so windy, it made it near impossible.

Beach Party Blower

What I love about these images is there are evidently other people on the beach, but they largely try and ignore what is happening. In fact, the 'accidental audience' met the actions with confusion and gave me a wide berth. Their dogs, however, were much more curious. I had many dogs running up to me and barking at me while their owners were very embarrassed and tried to shoo them away from me. This was especially difficult if I would set the timer on the camera, run for a pose and then have a dog running after me. I think people were also very suspicious of me. Some of them watched me to make sure I wasn't doing anything harmful or damaging – I was actually surprised at the level of concern at what appeared to me to be a completely ridiculous action.

Funnily enough, there were also other photographers on the beach who were trying to capture the waves and scenic landscape. I found it interesting that they made a decision that was contrary to mine: they purposely chose not to have me in their frame because I was ruining their image of a picturesque beach in January. So in this way, there was an interesting photographic dichotomy going on that day. There was me who was deliberately trying to find the ridiculous, the unusual or the abnormal – in fact I was creating it, causing it. And on the other hand, the other photographers had made a decision to cut out this happening. I won't go so far as to say they weren't looking for the extraordinary – scenery in itself, or simply photographing the grey clouds could be considered just that – but they actively chose to move somewhere else on the beach to preserve its illusion of tranquility.

So a question arises here about which of the photographs is more deceitful: mine for constructing a happening to be documented, or theirs for making a choice not to document something that was happening as simultaneously as the beautiful clouds and rolling waves?

Out To Sea

After a while, the fact that I was dressed in a party hat and sunglasses seemed to fade slightly. However, the focus on constructing the image becomes more intense. Because there is an 'end purpose', the achievement of this purpose becomes primary and the performance becomes focused towards that end. Does it matter that the performance is solely for the camera? If the real focus of the performance is to happen when the image is constructed and printed, then no it doesn't. The process of taking images becomes a rehearsal – you take them over and over until you get it right and then instantly the 'right' image becomes the one you present to your audience.

The weather was a constricting factor throughout the shoot. At one point I tried to go into the sea without my shoes on, but my feet went numb, and running backwards and forwards to the camera became a hassle. Also, I was going to do some shots in just trunks, but it didn't happen because the tripod kept blowing over and there was a limited time I could spend that undressed.

I Wished You Were There (But You Weren't)

What has struck me about some of the images, like the first one on this blog and the one pictured above, is that there is a sense of absence. The gaze in 'I Wished You Were There' says "I am having a great time, but only because you can see me now." Which leads to the question, was I actually having a good time when I was on the beach in the first place, or do I just want the viewer to think that? It very much reminds me of Baudrillard's comparison of the hyper-real to the holiday snapshot. When we look back at it, we convince ourselves we were having a good time in the photo because we smile, gesture or pose in such a way. However, it could have just been another boring and ordinary day.

Nonetheless, this puts some kind of emphasis on absence in the still image not of the performer, but actually of the viewer. The expectancy of the figure in the photograph is that he is eventually viewed, that he comes to life once more. I titled this particular photo 'I Wished You Were There (But You Weren't)' partially because I wanted to encapsulate a sense of fun that the audience wants to share, but also slightly to convey a sense of disappointment on behalf of the person in the photograph that he was essentially celebrating alone.

For the first intervention, I think it was a good experiment. It challenged how gutsy I could be and also a lot can be achieved by acting on artistic impulse, in terms of realising in whatever way an idea that's bouncing around in your head. I learned a bit more about where and how my practice could go and would probably return to this set up with a better camera and tripod, with perhaps slightly more stable weather.

I wondered if the gesture of the action in itself was strong enough to attract much of an accidental audience, but it certainly made me contextualise where the still image sat in relation to an action that you were doing right now.

The Ghostly Photograph

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Sun, 20 Jan 2013 16:12:00 +0000

The idea of of photographs becomes haunted or ghostly is something that Barthes and Baudrillard both discuss. The photograph has an unholy power to collapse past and present into one moment, and also the power of evocative nostalgia – sometimes the power to bring what is dead back to life.

I started to play with this notion of 'ghosting' by using long shutter speed times in order to capture a momentary impression. The place in which I experimented was in itself a transient space – a room on campus that I stay at overnight. It made me think of other places that we temporarily own, or non-places. For instance, when we go on holiday and stay in a hotel, we often refer to the hotel room as 'my' room, 'my' bed and 'home'. However, it has been a home to many people at one time.

This impermanence is a quality that performance shares: it exists as a brief impression on both the environment and on the mind of the person who witnesses it. I think this ghosting effect very accurately captures this sense of something once being there, but now no longer. In a sense, all of our actions become ghosted and leave the tiniest, momentary impression on the environment.

Falling Into Bed

I found that choosing where you wanted the deepest impression to be left was one of the most important parts of this exercise. For example, the final point – lying on the bed – left the longest exposure, but the motion blur gives the feeling that the person could either be getting up or lying down. As long as the gesture has a cyclical nature, the gesture stars to take on a repetitive power of its own.

Faceless

This particular image, I was shaking my head side to side. I thought it might give the impression of looking around the room, but instead the lasting image is of a faceless, more frantic being. The motion produces a very nervous kinetic energy – it almost buzzes.

The most effective image came from a very subtle impression:

I Woz(n't) (T)Here

The impression is almost unnoticeable at first, but on second glance it is evident the shadow in doorway is a figure. I have showed it to people since who always squint as though they wonder why I am showing them a picture of a room, before they say, "Ohhhh" and realise.

The image for me encapsulates the sense of someone or something having been there and now is there no longer. There is also some question as to what the figure is going through – Loss? Grief? Upset? The transience of the mood is also captured here as a passing moment. I also think it gives a sense of unease about putting context to what is essentially a 'non place'. This room may, over time, be populated by many more people. However, it is now no longer an impersonal, anonymous room you can make your own – it is haunted by this event, by this figure and by their emotion.

I think this making a place out of anonymous rooms and also trying to track the 'impressions' that we as human beings leave on buildings has an interesting angle of transience and perhaps highlights the disappearance of action effectively – that ultimately the world is populated by ghosts who live near-invisible marks on the physical environment.

Experiments in 35mm

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Wed, 28 Nov 2012 11:51:00 +0000

So, I mentioned in my last post Disguise that we were 'scared' of losing the photos on film due to under or over exposure and the fears were well founded – after 2 processing attempts on two different films, I found that the camera was not working. The films came out blank, and though there were chances for over exposure the fogging on the negatives appeared without any intact negatives. I had a look on the internet and this kind of gross overexposure is usually due to a light leak in the camera, which is really unfortunate as it prevented me from doing any printing.

However, the annoyance at having lost these shots is interesting. On my second roll of film I decided to go out and take a 'test roll' of nature photography around campus. I thought I was finally getting to grips with aperture size and shutter speeds, by exploring detailed berries on bushes, moss on twigs and landscapes filled with details of trees... I did a few close up shots with the background blurry and a few shots with a greater depth of field that had objects in the foreground blurry to experiment with how light and focus changes the composition of the picture.

I'm sad to say all of these were lost... But interesting questions still remain here. The act/gesture of photographing still occurred, the thought process and decisions around composition still occurred, but without the document the act becomes redundant, meaningless or anecdotal.

Is say-so enough to validate the act? No, it's not. And that's why documentation is such an important act in itself.

As an aside, the process of processing was actually rather enjoyable. I have decided that art + chemistry = photography. It's a wonderful combination of disciplines! And the anticipation of *not knowing* how the shots will come out and waiting for the negatives to come to life is pretty exciting. I suppose in some ways it's how a painter feels when they've finished a piece – a sense of accomplishment that they 'made this' happen.

'The Real' Is In Crisis

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Tue, 20 Nov 2012 11:51:00 +0000

I remember this summer I was out walking with a friend of mine and I popped into a shop to buy a drink. It was a Cherry Coke. Suddenly he said to me, "You like cherry flavoured things, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?" I replied.

"Well, you have apple and cherry juice at home, your favourite cake is black forest gateaux and your favourite yoghurt is black cherry. And now you're buying a Cherry Coke."

I smiled and was amused by this thing which I had never noticed about myself before. "What's funny is," I replied, "that I like cherry flavoured things, but I don't like cherries."

This particular anecdote is a perfect allegory for exactly why the real is in crisis. My experience of the flavour of cherry is far removed from what a real cherry tastes like, to such an extent that I actually prefer the synthesised, simulated taste of a cherry to experiencing the fruit itself.

It's not a new idea – in fact, I'm a fan of Baudrillard's theories on the real and Zizek's interrogations of what we consider real or not. Pop culture has become a hall of mirrors with no exterior point of reference – everything is a copy of that which is already in its sphere of reference. Our culture has become a machine that recycles images of the past and reflects them back through the hyper-real visors of modern life, often mirroring some unseen angle or a glinting facet that wasn’t obvious before. Perhaps in its re-use, it inadvertently creates an immediacy of novelty that the youth grab on to and ride until the mechanics of the zeitgeist crank up once again and another postmodern pastiche is created to satiate the need for the next best thing.

We will watch a film looking to simulate feelings of fear, happiness or heartbreak because it echoes a semblance of the real emotion without the risk of having to go through the pain of experiencing it. We watch theatre and we are twice removed from the emotions: the actors act it and we simulate inside ourselves the emotions that the actors are themselves simulating.

So why is it that we lend such veracity to photography? In mainstream media, the photograph is used as undeniable proof that an event has occurred – for instance in movies like Blow-Up or Bladerunner – but the photograph is seen as inferior to the film's much grander narrative. The fact is that photography as a document has always been questioned and I think that this particular media has never claimed to be representative, but is admired for it's ability to capture what is there and reflect it back to the viewer in a new, objectified light.

The reason we enjoy photography is exactly because it defies the real; it is an intervention on the real. It defies what we should expect of the document by extending time, compressing past and present. It not only displays what is, but also what has been. It is tinged with both nostalgia and surprise, sadness and beauty. When we look at the image we want it to be more than what it is – to surpass what we know to be real.

The most alarming thing about the photograph is not that it does not represent the real, but – in this culture of consumption and consumerism – the still image has replaced the real. It has become our point of reference – an aspiration. When we dance, we dance in a series of poses and gestures that – when frozen – would make the perfect image. When someone pulls out a camera, we become amateur composers – we pose, we arrange objects into a small scene, we look directly at the lens and click because we want people to believe that the image we have composed is our reality.

And we do believe. We comment on Facebook, Flickr or Instagram about how 'hot' something is when we know that the perspective, pose and pout of the photo is completely staged.

Yet there is this argument of 'authenticity', to which I have to ask what is authentic? What is left in this world that has a shred of 'authenticity' left in it? Unless, we are demanding that authenticity is an authentic reproduction of what is a simulated reality in the first instance.

We have come to adore simulation. The real is in crisis because 'reality' has warped into something else entirely.

Disguise

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Mon, 19 Nov 2012 12:36:00 +0000

In order to explore the performance of the photograph some more, I asked Steve Millar if he could take some photographs of me in various different disguises, echoing Cindy Sherman but also playing with the idea of thrusting something peculiar onto the everyday. Inspired by my supervisor Sian Bonnell, I decided to juxtapose queer identity with the domestic. It also echoes Gale Force: Council House Superstar in its humdrum setting, but tries to add glamour, suspicion and also a kind of beautiful ugliness to the backdrop. Most of these shots have been taken on 35mm B and W film for hand processing, but we did do test shots in digital to see whether or not it needed flash, and if so how much. However, I can't guarantee the exposure of the film shots (which is kind of what makes it so exciting), but may be some burn techniques in the darkroom will lighten the contrast.

As an aside, it's interesting we felt the need to 'test' it in digital first so as to make sure the final film version was right instead of treasuring whatever might be committed to film. There was an interesting 'fear of loss' here and the need to ensure that whatever the outcome on print, there was still some record of it in digital.

First up, was a shot I called Shame-O-Vestism:

Shame-O-Vestism

Drag – or even any kind of dressing up – involves some elaborate kind of ritual: make up, dress earrings, hair (or wig). I have not really played with drag to its full extent, as I think using elements of it to politicise the queer identity is much more interesting than to play to gender stereotypes that fall into some kind of 'gender binary' homonormative perspective of this particular genre. Here, I decided to show the state in between fully dressed up and naked, male and female, and glamour and the banal. I wanted the photo to feel as though the person had just been 'caught' by the viewer: that they had walked in on this bathroom scene where they were in a transitional state and hence the anger arises.

The towel serves as a kind of 'wig'; though there is no indication of long, feminine hair, the style of towel wrap points towards a complicated ritual of gender-typical dress. There were also little touches I intentionally implemented to give hints of glamour-aspiration, such as the glass costume jewellery bracelet, and the pearls spilling from a handbag in my lap. This is essentially grated against by more industrial, domestic elements such as the lock on the door, the tiling in the bathroom and the vague view of towels over the bath. Even the hairy arms seem to offset the aspiration of the figure in this picture. The effect is an annoyance on the intrusion of such a ritual and that we always need to see the finished product or the illusion, rather than the process or transition.

In many ways, this picture also represents a 'mid-point' of a gesture – the one between male and female. As a contrast, the actual underlying gesture becomes one of anger, shame and annoyance: something that is not quite ready or finished. The bathroom setting also gives it the illusion of the gritty 'truck driver' drag that is never quite convincing in its authenticity.

Domesticity's A Drag

This photograph tries to incorporate more glamour, but balances it with everyday elements. Here, I'm actually wearing something from the 'Mother of the Bride' collection by wedding dress designer Ian Stuart, suggesting a sense of overblown occasion along with square Hollywood style sunglasses, complemented by the touch of pearls. Again, there is no wig worn to make it obvious that this is a man, but in order to inject an intervention on the everyday activity of ironing, it is the wig that is being straightened under the iron, which again connotes a sense of preparation for an event. Perhaps the image suggests a prelude to the drag as in Shame-O-Vestism – that the figure is preparing to make a debut. I also feel there's some kind of reverie-like quality to this image: the figure in the photo stares off into the lens as though they are dreaming of a better life beyond the ironing, as one is prone to doing when engaging in a repetitive task. Perhaps they are even trying to convince the viewer of their inherent glamour.

Keeping It In the Closet

Playing with a traditionally more masculine figure in shirt and tie, but accentuating features with make up and wearing a wig to provide a level of difference. This image echos one of Sherman's Untitled Film Still actions, with her taking a book off of a shelf. But instead the figure is taking out another costume, perhaps transitioning from formal to casual wear. There is a surreptitious tone to the image: the figure looks to the side to check whether or not he is being watched and whether anyone will notice his transition. The cluttered wardrobe adds to the effect. Clothes are discarded and spill out, threatening to reveal themselves, but remain densely packed in the same space. I feel this image would have been boosted if the item he is holding would have been a dress or perhaps even some kind of fetish object, like a leather harness or gimp mask, providing a level of perversion to its suburban ethos.

Preparing, dressing and posing for one shot can be a lengthy process and sometimes the slightest detail can add to the mise-en-scene of the still. It is essential to get the set just right. In these examples, I think of Shame-O-Vestism, and even the touch of the bracelet or getting the lock of the bathroom door in the shot can add another level, or an extra dimension to the underlying meaning of the photograph. It's important to consider all these elements in composition – missing one thing out means the viewer misses whatever the artist is trying to convey.

Originally, I wanted these shots to be a series of guerilla performances that were interventions on the urban landscape, but I found that gaining permissions and setting up scenarios is a similarly lengthy process. I feel, however, that this could still be done and would validate the actuality of the performance behind the image. I like this concept of the image being an intervention on the general perception of 'the real' that conflicts, confuses and delights the viewer.

The composition was much easier when someone else was holding the camera too, though the possibility of having a tripod is not ruled out either. In these shots, I feel like I played the role of 'artistic director' and negotiated the concept with someone else having their finger on the shutter.

I think there are many concepts at play here that deserve more investigation: the juxtaposition of queer identity and the everyday, the underlying absurdism of the images that arises from that and the structured versus liveness/performance-in-motion composition and how that impacts on the performativity of the image.

One thing that could have more discourse is the analogue and digital methods used to capture these. I've yet to see the prints, but the fact that we felt we needed to have a digital 'back-up' speaks volumes and really reinforces the arguments behind the 'disappearance' of performance and the need to document this. Even though these were specifically for camera, the fear that through analogue it may not turn out perfectly amplifies that – as we are in a digital age of instant gratification – we need immediate feedback on what we're doing.

Technical vs Conceptual photography

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Mon, 19 Nov 2012 10:15:00 +0000

I'm quickly learning that over the years, photography has been approached in two ways: either by artists who are interesting in testing and experimenting with photography and by photographers who are interested in technique and its effects on the photograph.

It's quite interesting that photography has this bent: that it is both a technical discipline and a conceptual one. Of course, one could say the same of painting – that mastery of basic principles is important before you go avant garde, but I guess I am surprised that there is more to it than just clicking the camera to achieve your desired effect.

What also surprises me is that – because it is a relatively new discipline – it is not as widely researched by photographers looking to contextualise their work beyond the documentary or the technical. The aesthetic supersedes the concept.

Exploring the photography studio for the first time

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Fri, 16 Nov 2012 16:53:00 +0000

Allan Taylor, Never Knowingly Under-Exposed

Whenever I talk about the subject or my research interests, people say to me, "So you're a photographer then?" or expect me to answer really technical questions about their DSLR camera that I probably couldn't hope to understand in a month of Sundays.

Nonetheless, getting to grips with photography and photographic techniques has inevitably become a part of this project. Yesterday, I went into the studio for the first time as a kind of 'trial by fire' – as my friend Steve Millar would say to me, "There's a lot to be said for just 'doing' things." So, with zero knowledge of lighting, light meters, shutter speeds and exposure times, I decided to step into one of University College Falmouth's smallest photo studios and have a go. At least, I thought, I would have some test shots to work with.

These things I either find are completely, pant-wettingly atrocious, or you just pick up the knack and go for it. In all honesty, it took me an hour to set up the lights (2 Elinchrom lights on stands with camera) and rearrange all the equipment in the studio so I could shoot against a white wall. I had grand ideas of tethering the camera to my Mac and having a whole wireless set up, but this quickly dissipated when I realised that the flash-to-shutter speed was a bit botched when I set up the Skyport system. I have a feeling this has to do with the flash going off before the shutter had closed, and so I used a combination of house lights and the flash sensors on the lights to boost what was essentially a pretty flat space. Plus the wall is a bit more 'off-white' than the infinity coves in the other studios.

Photo set up 15/11/12 – Studio 6, University College Falmouth

Fig 2 Photo set up 15/11/12 – Studio 6, University College Falmouth

So far, so good. Nothing's broken and I had a half-decent set up, so I just leapt in. Leaping became quite a theme, as I decided that the first action I should try and capture was jumping, as jumping is a bit of a wild card – you can never completely capture it. I also decided that for ease and for simplicity of trajectory, I should work in threes: beginning, middle, end. The idea was to create a composite shot that showed some kind of narrative or documented an action from start to finish. Starting was easy, it was just crouching down and clicking the remote:

Beginning to jump

It soon became apparent, though, that the middle action – or when the gesture is 'in flux' – is one of the most difficult to capture, and this reminded me of the 'liveness' arguments. It is this unknown action, or change, or when the piece is thrown out of chaos (or perhaps even into order) by an action that is in motion and can't be posed or frozen. Perhaps it is this action that makes it the most interesting:

Free-falling

Free-falling 2

Free-falling 3

I tried for about an hour and a half to 'perfect' this mid section, but a combination of factors made it a frustrating experience: the delay between pressing the remote and the camera shutter actually shutting, switching it to timer and having to time the jump so that it caught me midway rather than at the beginning or the end and trying a variety of shutter speeds and aperture sizes which, to be honest, just increased the amount of blurry shots on output. I can't tell how many I deleted. I kept many more that weren't even worthy. Also, because of the size of the studio, you'll also notice my head is clipped in many of these, but I decided these were far from final and to press on. After 90 minutes of documenting, I remarked on the hilarity of my expression in each of these photos – I looked so uncertain and expectant rather than expressing the 'jubilation' of jumping up in the air and for that reason, even though I was rising in the photos, it actually looks like I'm falling or levitating unsteadily. This in itself makes for an interesting study in the uncertainty and fear of the 'mid point' and represents, to me, a point between success and failure, beginning and end, certainty and uncertainity.

Though many were deleted, it occurred to me that some distance between the movement and the image makes you reconsider the initial motivations of the movement and so the image is re-contextualised.

Surprisingly, the 'finish' of the jump wasn't as difficult. In fact, it was rather enjoyable. I think because we only jump when we're happy or excited, the physical action elicited a feeling of joy inside me and because – by now – I had gotten used to the timing of the camera, I could successfully predict the flash point. You'll see below that the jump became something else entirely – it was like a victory dance for having reached the pinnacle of the action:

Victory dance

Victory dance 2

Victory dance 3

It occurred to me that both of these latter actions would not only make sense as a composite shot showing start, middle finish, but as a triptych on their own, showing the impossibility of capturing the instantaneous, the uncertainty of levitation, or the joy of being suspended in air momentarily – joyous and victorious at having 'completed' the gesture.

The Joy of Being Eternally Suspended

As an aside, it's worth saying that a lot of these shots were under-exposed and so I made a note to learn more about aperture, shutter speeds and lighting in order to make the next studio session more successful. However, I did think some of these issues could be rectified in post-production later.

The next thing I did was try to document a series of gestures in order to composite the images and to 'act' with myself or juxtapose different poses. I wanted to construct a kind of 'narrative' or an action with a ghostly appearance – as if I was never really there in the first place:

Shrug shoulders

Making faces

The gestures were quite simple and just gave me something to play with in constructing these mini narratives. These resulted in interplaying with triplets of gestures:

Woah, Woah – Calm Down

Blow Yourself A Kiss

However, one of the strongest stills came from an image where something is addressed to the viewer. And perhaps because the 'performance' is not contained within the photo, but directed out towards the viewer, that a relationship occurs.

What's So Funny?

This particular image didn't feel 'right' as a threesome. When I squeezed a figure in the middle, it lessened the dramatic contrast between the laughing and the anger. What I think is effective about this image is that it conflicts the viewer: on the left hand side, there is a kind of humorous empathy – the figure is in fits of laughter and we want to share the joke and the pleasure of laughing. On the right hand side we are being reprimanded for finding it humorous. Though it is clearly the same person, brining them together makes it feel as though they are completely different. In fact, the image is not a progression of action, but instead a continuous never-changing conflict. The viewer feels as though they are being accused of something, perhaps that they should feel guilty for finding this somehow ridiculous or funny. One is warmed by the laughter and confused by the emergence of the anger, which seems to be unwarranted.

It is because the anger is addressed back out towards the viewer that the image becomes dangerous. The laughter feels as though it could occur within its own space, but the aggression has direction and provides the impact that bridges the subject-audience relationship (perhaps providing the punctum and facilitating the studium of the image).

In studio practice, it's very easy to perform then re-perform the actions over and over again until they are 'perfect'. However, there are also a lot of happy accidents and perhaps there is a gem in here relating it back to liveness, and peformance's own quality of producing these so-called mistakes that on second viewing sometimes become an integral part of the piece.

I looked at this session very much like a rehearsal. Things were done again and again and again until they were just right... The only difference is there was an audience member – the camera. And because it could show you instantly what had just happened, perhaps it is also the most severe critic of performance.

I want to continue my investigation into the instantaneous, liveness and the camera through analogue methods. Because with a 35mm camera we can't instantly see what we have just taken, the happy accidents become even more permanent, and perhaps these 'abject' photographs have an insight into the moment that can't be revoked once it has been exposed to the film.

Starting points: The photograph as a performative object

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Wed, 14 Nov 2012 12:57:00 +0000

Cindy Sherman, Play of Selves 2007

I've decided I should start blogging on my PhD research for two reasons. 1) To use it as some kind of 'mind dump' where I can lay all my current thoughts on the page and 2) so I can contextualise my current thinking and see where my project is going and – ultimately – what my question is (and anyone who is thinking of embarking on a PhD, be prepared for long sleepless nights wondering 'what is my question?').

So, as a brief introduction, when I was doing my MA I became interested in the issue of documenting performance as many live artists believe that documentation is never representative of performance. Performance exists in 'liveness', whereas documentation is removed from performance – it becomes something else; a different medium altogether. I was all for this at first, going on a "Liveness YAY" kick, that nothing could reproduce the experience of liveness and so in the first term of my second year, I set out to start an essay basically discrediting photography as a means of capturing performance, based on paper by Eriksson (1999), which talks about the advantages of using black and white photography as a 'reminder' of the performance.

However, the deeper I delved, I realised the relevant question was not 'if' we could document liveness: this question has been bandied to and fro, debated endlessly and I feel it's a very cyclical argument with very few 'breaks' in which progress has been made. Furthermore, because of the increasing practicality of documentation to the performance artist – nowadays, for funding applications or proposals a funder or producer will expect documentation as a bare minimum to support the proposal – the question is, "If we start from the position that liveness cannot be captured by documentation, then how can we represent our performances in a different way? What – if not liveness – are we trying to capture when we produce documentation?"

Genital Panik, Valie Export

I then focussed my efforts on the still image and why photography might be more effective at capturing performance than another medium. On a personal note, I've found film to be quite limited and this is noted by Bay-Cheng (2007): film often inverts the performer-audience relationship, by making performance something that is 'peered into' by the viewer, rather than 'performed outwards' from the performer. In terms of angles, euphoric sense of audience 'togetherness' and instantaneous moments, it's all a bit lost in the moving image.

I realised that the reason this is the case is because film aims to be 'documentary' – that it aims to represent performance as it 'really happens'. However, performance in the first instance does not exist in the real. Performance exists in the Lacanian symbolic and imaginary orders, and if we look at life as a literal 'self' then life would be the non-performative – the unobjectified action. If performance mirrors life – or an aspect of it – then it immediately relates it to the Imaginary order through Lacan's mirror stage. So if we are to represent anything that is 'real' about performance through documentation, then the documentation must also be symbolic or imaginary.

So why photography? Well, live art and photography have been intertwined from its earliest origins. When Chris Burden nailed himself to a VW Beetle on the Venice Speedway in California for Trans-Fixed (1974), only a few people across the road ever witnessed this, but the photo document has since surpassed the performance as the performing object. On a similar note, Valie Export's Genital Panik (1969) is now a famous image, representing her performance in an adult cinema in crotchless trousers where she asked the men in the audience to experience 'the real thing' rather than the sexualised objectification of the woman on the screen. The documentation of this was taken years after the event, but survives as the only remnant of this intervention. In both cases, the document has become the performance, invoking this sense of presence-in-absentia (Jones, 1997) that spreads the word about the performance, validates its existence and re-performs the action each time the document is viewed.

Furthermore, the lines between performance document, performance and performance photography are similarly blurred. For example in Cindy Sherman's series Untitled Film Stills, she performs a series of different characters or selves for the camera and, though they are untitled, we impose a sense of narrative, place and context onto the image. The photograph performs these messages to us. Cleverly, Sherman also chooses to name them 'film stills', perhaps instilling a suggestion that the image is a freeze-frame of something that was once in motion – that this is a 'snapshot' from a overarching character performance. Jeff Wall also uses photography as a method of documenting through performance by re-performing to camera. In Mimic (1981), he re-stages for camera an encounter he witnessed on the street, where a man pulls slanty eyes to his girlfriend after passing a man of Asian origin. Likewise, in Volunteer (1996) Wall volunteered at a community theatre for a month, sweeping the floor every evening. He 'rehearsed' this action over and over until it turned into a gesture and then documented this 'performance' of cleaning the community theatre after everyone had gone home.

More questions begin to arise about the purpose of the document: whether the photo document is a performance in itself or if it is an embodied trace of performance that has been.

Photography is an inherently theatrical medium because it theatricalises the world it inhabits by making the everyday an object for study. Auslander also talks about the 'theatrical' in his 2006 paper on the performativity of performance documentation, recognising that images have a performativity of their own – perhaps that they are even a forum for performance.

Difficulties in capturing performance and motion in photography are described by Auslander as trying to capture 'lightning in a jar' – that 'flash' of inspiration that occurs only once. In the same way, Mary Ann Doane (2006) says that the instant must disappear in order for movement to emerge, and it is here that the tangible ability of photography to compress past and present into one image where a sense of performance arises. It is the suspense, the state of flux and the suggestive gesture of the still image that bestows something performative onto the photographic object.

Baudrillard talks about photography of the 'hyper-real': that it is a phantom onto which we render a subjective interpretation, usually one that is much more grand than the original circumstances of the photography. But perhaps this is the photography's main thrust of performance: that it can stage the symbolic and act as an intervention on the real – something that opposes what we know is physically possible, or takes this 'reality' and scrutinises it under the camera to highlight the absurdity of the everyday.

The still image as a document has been fraught with problems since photography first emerged. However, revising photography with this new application – still image as performative object – means that we don't have to aim for a 'real' or 'authentic representation' when we document by photograph. We are instead looking for the fantastic, the unusual or the hyper-real. We are looking for theatricality and – most importantly – a performance of context, place, space and meaning

'Automythography'

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Fri, 03 Aug 2012 14:30:00 +0000

After going to see Curious' World's End at the Chelsea Theatre, I was really taken by Leslie Hill's use of greek mythology to bring to life various aspects of the performance, and it reminded me of various myths that I have wanted to create/perform/do something with at some point in the future. One of these was realised at the BAC Freshly Scrathced festival last November, where I used the myth of Cassandra to delve into fortune telling, and to explain how a lot of our current existence is actually based on trying to predict the future.

With this in mind, I wanted to create a past-present-future trilogy using figures from different mythologies. I am especially interested in Angus Og - the Celtic God of Love. He was conceived in a day and escaped death by his father's hand by asking if he could live by the river for a day and a night. But because in Celtic, there is no difference between 'a day and a night' and 'day and night', he was allowed to live forever.

I feel there could not only be a performance, but perhaps a photography project in this...

A postcard to my younger self

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Tue, 17 Jul 2012 09:27:00 +0000

I thought I'd share this beautiful song, which sounds like something I wish I'd written from this point in time to a younger Allan

Digital traces

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Wed, 06 Jun 2012 10:15:00 +0000

Anyone that knew me while I was studying my MA would know that documentation is a hot topic for me. I think it's because, personally, it extends beyond performance; documentation of live art represents the same debates that we have around documenting our own lives. We take photos, we write diaries (or blogs), we film things - all in a bid to capture the traces of life that we will never re-live or experience again. In many ways, I think documentation reminds us of how precious and fragile the passing of time is, and also how we frame these documents in order to remember the past times and to echo some kind of rememberance in the face of our mortality.

I have to say that I am a terrible documenter. And I think sometimes this is through choice. The reason being that occasionally I think life is meant to be lived in this manner, with only memories left at the end rather than bits and pieces of paper and film and photo. However, some nights I panic. I panic and I think about ll the ordinary, average days that I can't remember and have faded into oblivion and I want to reclaim all of them. I want to be able to recall any given date at any given time and yet my memory fails me. I just have flashes of things that seemed so poignant and alive at the time. I am saddened by the limited capacity of the brain and wonder what happens to all those lost days.

Recently, I went to the end of my sent e-mails and they started in 2002. I re-read a few choice ones and I laughed - remembering that day I thought I had forgotten, but was stored somewhere in my cranium. And then suddenly I thought about all the tweets I'd ever made, or comments on Facebook, or on threads on internet forums and I thought about all of our digital traces embedded in the internet. It's like we all have an ethereal digital soul floating around in the binary world and yet, if technology keeps up to date with the ability to archive this, it seems a bit more concrete and solid than the memories that pass us by.

Whether we like it or not, we're all scattering our digital traces through the world every day and, by default, it seems a more consistent way of documenting one's life than any other.

Contractual obligations

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 14:45:00 +0000

For some reason, when I have been talking with other artists recently, the subject of audience participation has come up quite frequently. I always think participation is a delicate issue and, as an artist, one has to negotiate this by an implicit contract before the audience members enter the space.

Firstly, do the audience know what they're getting into? If the answer is no, the participation becomes a difficult task. It may, at times, be forced, abrasive and unwanted for some members of the audience who want to be 'passive'. In fact, would they even visit the event if they knew participation was involved? The more informed they are, the more enthusiastic - and less surprised - they will be by participation.

Secondly, is it clear what they have to do? If it isn't, or if it is too complex, the audience are going to be hostile towards participating. Keeping actions limited to clear, concise interactions lessens the personal risk factor of involvement.

Thirdly, are the audience safe in your hands? An audience needs to be reassured they won't be the victim of ridicule or rejection if they participate, so open, encouraging approaches are much better than fixed ideas and gestures aimed to victimise the audience.

The house where the universe ended

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Tue, 04 May 2010 19:31:00 +0000

I've recently developed a bizarre interest in quantum physics, largely because it is a science that seems to explain how we still know relatively little about this universe. I mean stuff we can actually touch or see only accounts for 0.4% of the total stuff that makes up 'space'. And we don't know this because we can see the particles of this 'other' matter. We know it because of the effect it has on the matter we can see.

Anyway, as a consequence I've recently been researching the ultimate fate of the universe and there are three ways that we could go. The one I found most interesting was 'heat death'. It is the theory that everything in this universe will eventually die – every planet and every star will in billions of billions of years eventually die out leaving a 'dead universe'. What I found so fascinating about this idea is that it is so... Comforting. That there is a shared fate for everyone and everything regardless of how big you are or how much energy, or even how long you exist for.

But don't let it start you on a depressive spiral about how futile everything is. Instead, I really find it's something that should be embraced. Live, do what you have to do and know that no matter how many books you write, songs you sing or pieces you paint, one day they'll be part of a world of lost knowledge. Then breathe a sigh of relief, and stop being so hard on yourself.

Pleasure and Pain

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Sun, 28 Mar 2010 22:00:00 +0000

A student e-mailed me the other day with some questions about my artistic practice, which is always really great in the way that I could talk about myself and what I do forever, but it's always better when someone invites that dialogue. Anyway, one of the questions was about live art and why people would choose to cut themselves under the bracket of 'performance art' and defy natural instincts of not cutting oneself.

Before I go any further, I wouldn't like to say I am advocating self-harm. I have never judged anyone for their desire to self-express inside or outside of the context of 'art', BUT I proposed those artists who are actively engaged with pain do so because the aesthetic of performance art lies within this dilemma. Live art's aesthetic lies in that relationship between pleasure and pain in order to achieve beauty.

My conclusion was "To bring it to a more down to earth everyday level, when you really love someone it is the best feeling in the world and yet it hurts so much at the same time. That is what true beauty is all about - feeling pleasure and pain simultaneously."

For some reason these words came back to haunt me tonight when I listened to 'Summer In Siam' by The Pogues. It is a song that reminds me of someone I loved. It is a song that reminds me of falling in love on a warm summer's day. And yet the lyrics simply state "When it's summer in Siam, then all I really know is that I truly am in the summer in Siam." It makes my heart ache because of the simplicity of the words mixed with the memories.

I have avoided listening to this song for such a long time until tonight. And I felt it: it was a small reminder of what love is, what beauty is. An indescribable joy mixed with a pointed melancholy. The pleasure that seems to fill you with mindfulness, with wanting to be right there in that moment, and yet seems to ache only in your heart.

Money by Shunt

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Sun, 17 Jan 2010 17:23:00 +0000

I had no idea what to expect, but judging by a few reviews, I was afraid I was going to be disappointed, especially after David Rosenberg's triumph, 'Contains Violence' at the Hammersmith Lyric last year.

However, they managed to pull off an immersive theatre experience that didn't make you, the audience, feel as though you were forced to participate but co-erced you enough to be exhilirating. My prescription? Go and see it. I attempted to explain it but I am still on a come down after watching it. It's scary and exciting in one breath, and contains a lot of relevance in a post-credit crunch society

I met Anna Friel and I felt like an extreme communist

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 11:34:00 +0000

So, by the grace of my job, I do get to go to some wonderful events. Yesterday, I was at the announcement of the stage play of Breakfast At Tiffany's which will have Anna Friel in the leading role of Holly GoLightly.

A couple of Chambord and champagne cocktails and all was going well, until they started the speeches. And I suddenly felt like a communist who'd walked into the plans for Adolf Hitler's Beer Hall Putsch.

Now, okay, I'm willing to admit some snobbery on my part, but when you hear people who more or less control the theatre world proving how little they really know about the genre as a whole, and leading on from that how the majority of people are being spoon fed shit from idiots, then it really starts to get your goat.

Speaker number one comes up- the co-producer.

"... and yes, it was me who first put Beckett in the West End, proving that something obscure and contemporary can be appreciated."

Oh yeah... Really? Obscure? The play of which a film was made starring Peter O' Toole?

The play which launched and inspired hundreds upon hundreds of of wonderful cutting edge theatre?

The play that's on curriculum's everywhere?

The play by one of the most famous Irish playwrights of the last centruy?

The play that's over fucking 50 years old? Contemporary?

At this point, I was midly miffed, and wanted to scream at him, "Why not put on 'Blasted' by Sarah Kane and really challenge people to fucking think, you tosser."

But it didn't end there. The writer comes up to speak and says:

"It's an adaptation of the book..."

Right. So no Hollywood ending.

"And as iconic as the film is, we just wanted it to be something different."

Right. So no Hollywood ending.

"And what we want to stress is this is a different entity taken from the book that Capote wrote."

OKAY JEEZ FOR FUCK'S SAKE! We get it- there's no Hollywood ending. Just say to people, "Sorry- there's no teary ending where George Pepard runs off with Audrey Hepburn."

Except, I look around the room at all these gleeful, expectant faces who have absolutely no fucking clue, because no-one's bothered to read it in their lives and I have this niggling thing at the back of my head that knows they'll watch it and be disappointed. Well no- they won't- they'll shell out £40 for their seats and be placated by brainless crap.

"The musical crowd aren't going to be happy because there's only a few songs in it..."

A few? A few? Hell, we all remember Moon River, but when the fuck did Holly GoLightly start singing and dancing around? I think they're getting confused with that other movie that Audrey Hepburn was in.

"..but hopefully people will respect its intelligent" Burn in hell

"...witty..." I really, really want to ask you some challenging questions on theatre right now but I'll keep quiet

"intelligent storyline" You've already said intelligent you brainless fuck

Okay, I am miffed because the area of performance I work in is very niche, but its establishments and institutions like these that make it impossible for live art to thrive. If people could make more informed decisions on what they wanted to see instead of being told 'what theatre is' then I'm sure it would lead to a livelier artistic community with increased diversity.

I'm not trying to be a snob... what annoys me is that these people control the theatre world. They control the money and they control what people see. West End theatre is not really art- it's rehashed ideas with a lot of money behind them. And the sad thing is it continues to be a world of safe bets where no one is challenged.

Added to this, I'm surprised more people aren't angry that they're being treated like a nation of idiots. A nation that can't handle anything too risky or upsetting. And to me it's an insult to our collective intelligence. If people remain unchallenged, things remain the same. How can we ever evolve the arts scene if we're just producing the same stuff en masse?

Something really needs to change.

Next phase...

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 15:22:00 +0000

I think there's a phase in every emerging performance artist's life where they wonder "After this, what next?".

It's such an interesting question- Mainly because I believe that the 'what next' is the default mode of an artist. One of my heroes, Paul Draper, once said that "nothing is ever finished- you're just happy to abandon it at a certain point." And this is true. While there are the perfectionists out there, I find that I work better with pressure and deadlines- there's more importance for the piece to happen. And yet, at some point it has to be left... otherwise you'd end up doing the same piece forever.

Another one of my favourite artists, Laurie Anderson, said that no-one is ever bad at what they love to do. And that's a thought to keep you going through all your artistic self doubt

The King of Beauty in rehearsal

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 11:30:00 +0000

Since investigating my piece, the King of Beauty, a lot of notions have come to me both through feedback and through investigating the notions and connotations of this word. The biggest surprise is when, whilst wearing make up, I performed a scratch performance of it that lasted about ten minutes and someone described it as 'misogynistic'.

I found this intriguing. The references I made in this short piece were feminine, for example at one point I talk about getting the wrong Barbie for Christmas, or being called a slut, and then it struck me that these people associated these things as gender specific. In my mind, I had found them equally applicable, laudable and laughable about both men and women.

In a way, that has challenged my own beliefs and preconceptions of 'femininity' and 'adrogyny'. Unfortunately, femininity is placed in the line of 'that which is not masculine'. Androgyny is something that escapes the general concensus- for example, that which is not masculine is feminine, that which is not feminine is an imitation of masculinity. Masculinity seems to have defined terms and rigorous structure, making it difficult to achieve any sort of masculine 'ideal'.

It then gave me a slight insight into the objetification of women. I've been listening to a lot of Karen Finley of late, which could explain my change in performance style and focus.

Of course, I am hesitant to make blanket statements. I think for someone as liberal as me, to be confronted with such a gender defined term that I feel is something I am a million miles away from has been an experience, and something to delve into and explore.

Exploring cyberspace

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 14:41:00 +0000

I've recently been researching cyberspace and the possibilities of performing within the "virtual" world of Second Life. Whilst becoming entrenched in a pile of books and journals, I started to ask how 'real' is digital reality? I came across a very interesting theory by Slavoj Zizek about the 'reality' of cybersex. If sexual contact is already phantasmic in the sense that the body of the other person serves merely as a vessel onto which we project our sexual desires, then cybersex surely serves the same function making it as real as any other kind of sexual contact.

This got my trail of thought going... If we act/ perform/ create in real-time in a different digital reality, then it is no less real than the physical or biological which we pin the word 'real' on to. I started to resent using the words 'real' and 'virtual' to distinguish between the physical world and Second Life.

However, I am slightly concerned that doing away with the physical body would strip us of the ability to subconciously perform identities through our body. For example, an embodied, engendered feminist performance, or performing culture through our physicality. Is it lost? Is creating new and multiple online identities immoral or does it create a new way of 'interfacing' with yourself?

And how do we define 'liveness'- the essence of performance art? Does it mean live-through-presence, or does it represent live-through-time-based-moments? I feel it could (and has already) start to divide performance artists in what they feel is essential to this umbrella term.

There are two sides of the debate- where a move towards 'body as information' represents a fear and loathing of the weak, mortal body and a quest to embed ourselves in the machine versus the fear of the omnipotence of the machine. But perhaps by representing our 'imagined selves' we do simulate a part of what we try to capture on stage- always playing this 'imagined other' who we never really are.

Second Life is relatively new in the performance art world, and I think its potential will be realised very soon. It will be interesting how it moves forward, and what that means in bringing its conciousness to the public forum.

Love Is A Number

noreply@blogger.com (Allan Taylor) — Tue, 23 Dec 2008 18:51:00 +0000

I have been working on a performance piece called 'Love Is A Number' to perform at the Scenepool at Camden People's Theatre in February, and I have been surprised at how a few words can really challenge your whole behaviour. In the piece I talk about taking risks, and I thought it would be totally unfair of me to ask the audience to take more risks if I myself have not been risking anything. I had decided to 'practice what I preach'.

So, of late, I have been acting on those surreptitious smiles and casual glances and, believe me, it is like walking through life with your eyes open. So perhaps my theory that love is a numbers game is correct- the more impulses you act on, the closer you get to hitting that magical number...

However, if I ever do crack the mathematical formula to falling in love, I'm publishing a book and making my millions off of it.