Watching Myself Watching

A couple of years ago the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company was here in Houston. During the post-performance talk-back, Jones said the best way to look at modern art is to look at how you look at it. (I think he was quoting someone, but I don't recall who. I'd love to know the exact quote and source, if someone recognizes it and knows.)

I've been thinking about this quote over the last week, as I've been to three different events and I've been doing that postmodern reflection upon my reflecting. This is going to get pretty stream of conscious here. You may want to hold onto something.

So, last Tuesday night, I went to see the latest Cirque du Soleil show, OVO. I had amazing seats on a press pass (for interviewing the choreographer, Marjon van Grunsven) I had never been to a Cirque show and was greatly anticipating it, especially after interviewing van Grunsven. I had a great deal of fun interviewing her.

And I had a great deal of fun at the show. These highly skilled performers dazzle with feats of strength and grace that are hard to beat. There were sections of this work that I could have watched for much longer than they went on. It was as if gravity wasn't working the same on stage as it was in my seat. One such section involved a trampoline, a rock-climbing wall, and some people who must have the strongest fingers and toes on the planet.

But a curious thing happened the next day. I sort of forgot that I saw it. If it came up, I'd say, "oh yeah, I saw that! It was amazing, you should go!" But I didn't go around mulling it over, puzzling over any deeper meaning.

I mean, it's not really designed for that. It has only the thinnest of stories, about an egg that is lost in this rain-forest-like environment, and these insects playfully argue over it. There's also a thin love story between a ladybug and . . . I'm not sure what the guy was supposed to be, but not a ladybug. It's all resolved with the egg lost and found, the lovers separated and reunited, a happy show with few plot or character surprises.

This isn't really a criticism of the show---it was still amazing. It also didn't give me much to ponder afterward. I didn't feel any revelation about the human condition, receive any new insight into the human condition or the ways of the world. As I tried to find something to ponder, I wondered how I felt about inter-species kanoodling, but even if I wanted to play with that, it's presented in such a fun, non-serious way, it would just be looking for trouble. And looking for trouble isn't why I think about performances I see. No one really thinks a ladybug and an insect of indeterminable species are going to get it on, anyway. It's just people in costumes.

And all of this non-cerebral engagement probably says more about me than it does about the show.

Moving onward to Friday night, when I saw The Aluminum Show at Miller Outdoor Theatre. I think it is fair to say that this is a cousin of Cirque du Soleil in that it is full of spectacle (very SHINY spectacle). It's not as acrobatic, perhaps, not as, well, circusy as Cirque, but once again, we have a very thin storyline that exists only to tie together shiny . . . let's call them events. Fans and inflatable things are involved. Go to the webpage or watch video on YouTube. It's not all easily described.

It was a good time, no doubt about it. Lots of kinetic energy, lots of shiny flash, but scratch the shiny surface . . . and I guess that's what it was. At any rate, seeing this has not stayed with me, either, at least in no way other than this sort of reflecting on my lack of reflection of the show. It's fun, you should go see it if you have the chance. But it's eye candy, with little brain food. Don't go in with any other expectations.

Then, Sunday, I took some friends to see the current show at the Contemporary Arts Museum Houston. I had already been to see it before and will likely go see it again before it leaves the CAMH. It is a show called Answers to Questions: John Wood and Paul Harrison. Wood and Harrison are a British pair of artists who make videos. What to say of these videos? I've been describing them as a cross between physics investigations and Stupid Human Tricks, layered with a deadpan British sensibility.

They're very simple videos, really. They're mostly shot from one angle, no fancy camera tricks, no editing wizardry. It's a video of a man running an electric sander on as stack of paper, several reams of paper, actually, and sending the sheets flying. It's a video of paint being poured on the floor to reflect the florescent lights above it. It's a video of two men handling a sheet of plywood, supporting each others weight with it, tilting it, using it as lever while one of the men acts as a fulcrum, simply seeing all the ways two men can manipulate a board together.

It's an immensely entertaining show. I laughed and smiled throughout. I heard my friend, Lisa, laughing from across the museum more than once. Two of the friends who were with me were aged 10 and 13. They were very much engaged throughout.

But unlike Cirque and or the Aluminum Show, I think about this show. It's not just entertainment. That level is there, which you can't say for some contemporary art shows, but I'm thinking about it and wanting to go back immediately. It's feeding me somehow.

Context has a lot to do with it. I'm familiar with some portion of contemporary art's history. Cirque is really the circus. Performance studies folks will make comparisons and contrasts, but I don't know much about the circus. I can watch "Board" at Wood and Harrison and think about the experiments in pedestrian movements performed at Judson Church in the 1960s. I've seen an exploration of a chair by David Gordon that is vastly different from Wood and Harrison, but I think an argument could be made that they share a lineage, some genetic material. Wood and Harrison are in a museum, videos playing on multiple screens. The other two events were live performances. I could watch a video over and over whereas the performance sped by and was over and gone. (Although I pause to point out that I almost always prefer live performance over anything recorded.) Wood and Harrison's simplicity of presentation is much closer to my own aesthetic than the spectacle and flash of the other two events.

To write about Wood and Harrison in the same blog as with Cirque and the Aluminum Show is probably ridiculous. They exist in such vastly separate universes. Just for starters, the aesthetics of each are just not comparable. The colors of Cirque, the shininess of Aluminum, the drab whiteness of Wood and Harrison . . . They enter a single blog because I saw them all in close proximity of each other.

But this blog entry, again, is less about the shows than about me. I'm watching myself watching. I'm trying to be aware of my own judgments, my own influences, my own expectations for the work I see. I suppose I hope exposing my own reactions will help you explore your won.

One last thought: Wood and Harrison make videos to be shown in museums. The other two events were meant for big arenas---a big top, a hillside theater. Is one art and the other "only" entertainment? A quote from Merce Cunningham (to take it out of context) goes: "Not to show off but to show." (See the fuller context here.) Is it fair that to say that Cirque and the Aluminum Show exists to show off, while Wood and Harrison are showing? I mean, my reflections on Wood and Harrison have included thoughts about curiosity, cooperation, wonder. While I can project all those words onto the other two shows' spectacle, I'm not drawn into the same sort of musing.

Spectacle sort of suggests an intent to show off. And again, there's not anything inherently wrong with it. But being shown without flash, without color . . .

What do you think?