Searching for Refuge/ Spreading the Word at the Armory

Nicolás Dumit Estévez

“What you could neither grasp nor see,

A lively faith will yet affirm

Beyond this world's design”

Saint Thomas Aquinas

I came across the non-definition of performance art after having  practiced it, only to find myself several years later in urgent need of sustaining my claim to be performing, or more specifically, to be a performance artist. RoseLee Goldberg's statement that performance art is a medium that purposely avoids “precise or easy definitions” had suited my work for close to a decade, yet it did not  spare me from becoming the subject of scrutiny by a security guard at the New York 2006 Armory Show. I arrived at this event in answer to an invitation to perform issued by Franklin Furnace and following an inner call to spread the word about the medium in question. In fact, I had brought with me Goldberg’s book Performance Art from Futurism to the Present. Tucked under my arm, the publication acted as a bible I could resort to when in need; I merely had to refer to one of her psalms.

Voids exist in relation to what surrounds them, serving the purpose of defining a space already taken.  In many instances they assume the presence of what is actually in front of us but is not readily available.  Yves Klein’ interest in the void lead him to enact a series of leaps in which he inhabited, if temporarily, the domains of immateriality. For similar reasons, he burnt the profits from a transaction of an art piece that he had disposed of in the Seine. Speaking of voids, I have always felt an unfounded reservation about using the words nothing, never, and nobody, but lately have come to realize that these words exist because of an unstated need to give absence a presence. On the other hand, hasn't the magic wand of capitalism managed more than once to materialize the unseen, for example, by making the sale/acquisition of air rights a legitimate business?  Klein's backstage landings were, in the end, a reminder of our unredeemable debt to physicality.  

The afternoon I appeared at the Armory Show neither the Klein-blue chasuble I wore nor the message I came to deliver were valid reasons for the organizers to grant me a free leap into one of the world’s leading art fairs. My destination was Pier 90. At the door I claimed the ticket that was purchased for me and paid for in advance by FF. The slip of paper gave me immediate access to the art acolytes that were in full supply in the hallways of the building. Inside, I found myself preaching to deaf dealers selling their wares, was dismissed by those who visited the event for the sole purpose of looking at Art, and was gracefully validated, indeed blessed, by a woman who whispered to her companion in Spanish that I was in fact an artwork. As if in a reenactment of Piero Manzoni's 1961 Living Sculpture, these words placed the woman in the role of the artist and gave her the authority to sign me as a walking art piece.

While delivering the word, I refrained from making predictions of who would end up in art hell or who would reap the fruits of admission to art heaven. As fairgoers scanned the show searching for the specific artwork that would redeem them from purgatory, scores of visitors claimed from me unquestioningly a free-of-charge copy of the pamphlet that described my mission.

Performing performance art has become one of my works in progress. In my encounters with potential believers amongst students, friends, passersby, colleagues and reporters I have come to accept the challenges of the task. Some have remained unconverted because of the lack of a definition to encapsulate the field. Nevertheless, I thought that if Joseph Beuys could explain Art to a dead hare, I could certainly succeed in talking about performance art to two cloistered nuns at the Corpus Christi Monastery in the heart of the South Bronx. On that occasion I mentally, almost telepathically, resorted to Linda M. Montano's book Art in Everyday Life to deliver an improvised presentation in the lobby of the building. Two attentive sisters stood listening to the message I proclaimed, one of them adding to the conversation with a comment, formulated more like a question, on the relationship of performance art with postmodernism. Working the art crowd at the Armory Show was not any easier than conversing with the nuns. I recall strolling up and down, over and over, step by step, with the Word always in my hand. Interactions were brief. Scant. A smile, the handing over of a pamphlet and a thank you to the recipient. One more seed sown. Art bless.

Association continues to allow the Armory Show to be named after the 69th Regiment Armory that housed the fair in 1999. Similarly, I thought the Yves Klein blue vestment I wore would allow me in this context to be able to disseminate freely the message of performance art. Instead, my participation in the fair was brought to a halt by an art dealer’s complaint that I was too close to the portion of the void his gallery had paid for. In the minutes to follow I was questioned by two security guards: one who claimed to understand what I was doing; the other a frightening captor demanding a concise definition of the medium I was presenting at the event. With no other weapon than Goldberg's gospel at hand, I enticed this guard to give me her own answer to ‘what is performance art?’ Her response was simply to dismiss my proposition with a rosary of unrelated answers. I finally understood the correspondence between the idea of voids defining their surroundings with performance art’s ability to define through its own lack of definition. My day’s work was done.

After the organizers contacted Franklin Furnace I was free to go, receiving authorization by the show to continue Spreading the Word. I was permitted to remain in the facilities with the sole understanding that I was to circulate throughout the fair, and not spend more than five minutes standing at any given location. This was fine with me. I was happy with just tickling the void and leaving the place as quietly as I arrived.

Spreading the Word with RoseLee Goldberg's Book under my Arm is a component of For Art's Sake, a series pilgrimages through which I reverse the relationship between art and religion. In For Art's Sake, religion becomes a tool in the service of art as I endure seven arduous journeys that begin in Downtown Manhattan or in Brooklyn and conclude at seven museums. Upon completion of each penance a museum director or appointed official sign a passport that I carry, thus confirming that the journey has been successfully completed. For Art's Sake has been developed for the Franklin Furnace Fund for Performance Art and Workspace, the residency program of Lower Manhattan Cultural Council. The pilgrimages include a devotional guide printed at the Center for Book Art in NY.

 April 20, 2006, Yaddo, Saratoga Springs, New York

Sources:

Aquinas St. Thomas. Devoutly I adore Thee, The Prayers and Hymns of St. Thomas Aquinas, Manchester, NY 1993

Goldberg, RoseLee. Performance Art From Futurism to the Present, New York, 1988

Montano, Linda. Art in Everyday Life, Los Angeles and New York, 1981

Searching for Refuge/Spreading the Word at the Armory ©2006 Nicolás Dumit Estévez Raful

Presented with Franklin Furnace / This essay was first published with Caribbean in Transit / Special thanks to Alanna Lockward

USA Paradisiaca / Super Merengue / Las Frutas Tropicales / Learning to Drive / La Papa Móvil / The Fountain of Youth / Recuento de mis 15 / She tans. He sails. She swims. He surfs. She shops. He dives / 3 1/2 Hours to Paradise / The Passerby Museum / Amigo Express / Fellatious