Earlier this week I arrived home from Stockholm Supermarket, an art fair for artist led organisations from around Europe who promote experimental art. I went to the fair with Interface Inagh, an artist led organisation based in the Inagh valley, Connemara, Galway. I applied for their open call in 2024 for members to propose work to show at Supermarket and was very fortunate to have my proposal selected- which was to make a new piece of performance art, which I called Loop Of Pursuit.
I once got a great piece of advice which was that after you make a piece of performance, write about the experience as soon as possible afterwards, before you forget, in order to be able to remember the immediacy of your post performance thoughts, which you will inevitably forget otherwise. Useful advice for any career really.
So, I wrote this next bit after my first performance which took place on the Saturday evening, as soon as I got back to my hotel in central Stockholm.
The fair ran from 12 – 8pm each day, in the casement of a huge shopping centre in Stockholm suburbs. It was fun to walk through the polished halls of shiny shops and consumerism en route to the fair, knowing that down below was a bustling basement of experimental art.
Myself and the Arts Director, her assistant and the other artist who was representing Interface Inagh had left the fair on Saturday evening, and gone for food together to an eastern kebab house. I ate some rice and beans, which looked like butter beans but more flavourful. Also delicious cabbage- pickled, sour. We then headed on to the Supermarket party. This was a special party for all artists and staff and stakeholders in the art fair. Getting there involved More metro rides and then a walk up through apartment blocks in the cold still night to the venue. The Party was busy with lots of artists, disco lights, thumping dance and many wandering around looking slightly lost artists.
I was amazed all this trip about how hard I found it to be sociable and interact. Everyone I met, without exception, was lovely, so the fact that I found it challenging was quite the wake-up call about my evolving introvert tendencies. I guess it comes from not going out much, too much screen time and from living a very curated organised existence. I would happily have gone straight back to hotel, and not have had to talk to people. Which meant I would have missed out so I am glad, in retrospect, I did not do this. Sometimes those introvert urges have to be ignored.
At the party there was an assumption that we would all dance and have fun, which I naturally found challenging. Any type of situation where there is an assumed behavioural path to follow makes me feel like doing the exact opposite. Not always a helpful reaction. In this case I attributed my feelings as partly due to the way I was feeling upon heading out to Stockholm- thin, stretched, emotional, anxious, deeply troubled over my kids needs and the countless, daily incidents of unfairness that they encounter, due to their situation. I felt like a pool of anxiety was welling up my throat all day long, I couldn’t even breathe properly, and any slight bump would cause it to spill out.
Just being away and only having to mind myself definitely helped, for a few days.
Upon entering the party my gallery people headed off to go dancing, I got a drink and then spotted a gang from an Irish arts organisation whom I’d met and talked to earlier that day- so I sat with them and had lovely chats. At that stage, after a day of talking and waiting for my performance event, I felt over stimulated and slightly benumbed on a sensory level. I eventually headed off by myself at about 12.45am- banking on everything in Sweden so far having been so civilized, organised and calm that a walk to the metro at that hour by myself (which I would not do at home) would be ok. It was, and I arrived back a while later at the hotel. My hotel was directly above the train station, and the experience of emerging from the depths of the T-Central station subterranean levels and climbing up, up, up to the hotel above was a pleasingly discombobulating experience.
I was bone tired, I’d had a long day waiting to make my performance which had been scheduled at 7pm Saturday evening. My normal kind of tired comes from strength training and walking and doing stuff. This was a different weariness, acquired from hanging around, talking, sensory overload and from not getting quiet along time, which I normally do get the luxury of having even a little bit of each day.
I had spent last couple of days at the art fair meeting new people and explaining my role as a performance artist- and when and what I would be doing for my performance. I quickly found the sound of myself talking quite tedious. I was interested in my lack of tolerance for this situation. The other artist with Interface, Helena, had her work installed in the Interface Inagh booth. Her beautiful installation, made of branches, moss and twigs which hung, slowly spinning, zen like and mysterious, on show throughout the whole fair- for all to see, and to talk about- was a fitting focal point. As the artist with nothing to ‘show’ I felt a little silly, constantly explaining that I would be ‘making ‘ work in a while, but no, I had nothing on show at the fair. But this situation was fair enough. My work was going to be live and consequentially ephemeral, regardless of how that worked out. And whoever would see it would see it and whoever wouldn’t would not, and that was fine too.
Regarding making my performance- I was feeling ok about the whole thing, as I had meticulously prepared and rehearsed and tried out various iterations of the idea, so I had a fair idea of what would work. I just had to gauge the space, and decide how much to interact with the surroundings. My performance, called Loop Of Pursuit- had evolved from a place of impatience, indecision, anxiety, frenetic thoughts, and repetitive actions. In my proposal I had described it as:
The artist walks rapidly around the space in a circle. As they walk, they take a series of layers of outfits off leaving the garments on the floor, and then, as they walk, gradually pick them up and put them on again.
The garments that are taken off will be put back on randomly, in different orders, jacket only, or shirt and socks, or trousers, dress and tie.. all happening while the artist continuously travels in a circular loop.
This performance is about OCD, panic, fury, chaotic tussle of life, and is circular, it could essentially go on all day.
It relates to the theme of passion (defined as a strong and barely controllable emotion, or the suffering and death of Jesus) in that as an artist, I am often driven to a point of extreme despair and fury which leads to an inability to progress- caught in a present tense loop of indecision and uncertainty, but trying to journey on, to continue despite this. My refusal to allow this procrastinatory, anxiety led behaviour to succeed is where passion wins. The endless looped journeying equals the passion- the will to continue the pursuit of ones goals.
There is a Sisyphean nature to the endlessness of the action, and the repetition of the task of dressing/undressing. The circular nature of the path the artist takes in the performance means they are neither coming nor going, arriving or leaving. This circular repetition also suggests being trapped in a Godot-esque somewhat ridiculous scene that plays over and over.
The performance is intended to be vigorous and high energy. It is designed to work amidst a busy potentially noisy space. The work is intended to be performed with great passion and fury.
The venue for the performance was a stage area beside the main food stall, to the back of the basement area. This meant that the experience of making the performance for me was multi-sensory- I could hear the noise of the fair, people walking past, and was conscious of the presence of the people watching from the seats surrounding the performance area, close to me, at eye level with my torso, and also of those standing watching further away.
I kept my pace as fast as I could- I wanted it to be annoyingly fast to witness- the opposite of slow and careful movement. I wanted to maintain frenetic, discordant, hasty, lurching movement.
When making the performance I ended up working for over 40 mins as I never heard the 30 minute warning whistle. I was thinking I had been going a long time and the work was coming to a natural end. I found myself starting to put on the layers of garments and not take them off again. I knew that to perform another loop of taking off on would not sit well, so I started to wrap up.. (ha ha), putting all the garments on and gathering up the remaining garments and shoes.
I know the performance went well as I had a strong reaction. An older gentleman with long great beard and fair hair came up to me immediately after I’d finished and gave me a long hard hug. He hugged out and in with his arms as my breath rose and fell. I had walked out of the space around the corner into corridor. He said well done over and over. I was boiling hot- (all the layers) and still out of breath. I was wrapped and hobbled by all the clothing, which I had finished by putting on all together and picking up the shoes, to end the work.
Other interesting interesting reactions I received about the work
Suggestions of a mourning ritual
Of putting on layers and taking them off again to go to a funeral
Of putting on layers or different personas over and over
Of Christ’s stations of the cross
Of doing penance
Of fast fashion and the burden of materialism
Of shedding layers
In hindsight, I enjoyed performing as I knew the perimeters- contextually I was making a piece of work at an experimental art fair- so essentially, I could have done anything and it would have gone down well. Art people will respect what your agenda is as an artist and will allow you space to do what you want to do.
In my case I had prepared and rehearsed and planned carefully so I had a degree of confidence about how it would go. I knew I could hold the space, for a certain time. I am good at disassociating and getting on with the job in hand- and keeping physical intensity going. I am long enough at this performance business now to also hold out- to play with time and duration and not feel the need to finish too quickly. After all, people won’t remember how long it lasted afterwards. And time is a multi layered entity- 40 minutes to me could be a very different length of time for someone else.
I knew I could make visibly a strong impression and also cause a dizzying effect by the constant circling.. so people would be slightly distracted by the constant movement, and that through this constant movement that the message would evolve gradually like a story. Physically, the only post performance consequences are that my toes are bruised and cut from the shoes I was constantly taking on and off cutting into my feet
The next morning I thought a little about the point of it all.
It’s about using the body to make an experience. I hoped people would think about the action, the repetitive circling and non-stop moving. The clothes served as a metaphor, a tool to use to illustrate the action. On off, over and over. If they weren’t all black they would have been too distracting and would have muddied the message.
Alannah, Interface Director, took photos of the performance- and as I had no tripod to record my own documentation I was very grateful for her doing that. Others took photos too, notably my new friend Vladimir the Brazilian German artist from the booth across from Interface. That was one rather lovely thing- the artists I’d met and chatted and connected with mostly all came and supported me during my performance.
When I saw the images of the performance I felt old and stringy and large headed. The voices never go away. But at this stage I know well how my malevolent inner critic works. Rather than argue with myself I know now to just not look at the photos for a few days, and when I can be a little more objective I can edit through them and find some useful images that give some clues as to the nature of the action.
The next day, Sunday, I got up, got coffee from the hotel lobby, did my exercises, stretches, etc, to remind myself I could still move, and headed out to the fair earlier so as to be more prepared. I wouldn’t be hanging around all day like the day before- my slot on Sunday was at 1.15pm. I knew it would be a quieter experience but the fair was still buzzy and busy and I knew a good few people who had said they intended to come on the Sunday. So it was a job of work to do- which I reminded myself, so even if no-one was there I would push harder than yesterday. I wanted to surpass the day before’s performance, not echo it.
I started wearing a dress and boots, tights on, rather than the trousers and short form the day before. I took my time a little more at the start, but felt I needed more impact, more urgency, and as I knew I had less time than the day before I needed to speed up. I immersed myself in the action, and the movement, and strategized about what to pick up as I moved around. I allowed for imperfections when I couldn’t get a shoe on properly or my bra strap opened.
The one good thing about the pace of the work, on both days, was that it didn’t allow room for too much self-awareness. I was too occupied with trying to keep going and maintain the rythmn, and with where I was in the unfolding of the actions, to think about how I looked or how people were reacting. But I learned da long time ago that such things are not for me to worry about anyway. I only every have control over making the work, not other people.
I was talking to Helena, Interface Inagh’s other exhibiting artist, on our last day at the fair, and she suggested the business of my daily life could be why my performance work is also ‘busy’. Exactly. Slow measured work comes from spending time being slow and measured, which I rarely do. Neither is good or bad, it’s just the result of a situation.
It was lovely to talk about art and art practices for such an extended period of time. I needed this more than I’d realised.
Over the weekend I used social media- instagram- more than I have in months. It reminded me of its pervasive evil and why I had stopped. Whilst in Stockholm I would be scrolling idly, whilst having morning coffee in the hotel perhaps, and would see a great post about the Supermarket ArtFair, but then straight afterwards I’d see a badly burned child from Gaza. Scrolling through happy culture and then unimaginable horror, all neatly curated on your screen. How is it possible to absorb this and move on? I sat on the train this morning and felt sick as I watched a man burn in a tent, arms raising and the flames engulfed him.
I am unable to post a happy image of myself, inviting people to look at me and my doings, when that is happening. It is the most awful moral horror of our time, which we are seeing live screened. So my weekend in Stockholm was punctuated with me opening my phone, scrolling and then almost instantly being hit with one of these images and remembering why I’d stopped using it. I was acting like it was ground hog day, opening my phone, being hit with this awfulness, putting it away, then forgetting and going through the whole thing again, over and over, like a bad rendition of my performance, looping over and over.
Over all I felt hugely lucky to have been selected to go to Stockholm Supermarket, work with the amazing team from Interface Inagh, meet all the people I met, and be away from my own busy life for a few days. Objectivity can be achieved easier when you are away from your own life and can look on it from afar, and see what’s working and what is not. I would compare it to taking a little breather from normality and jumping headfirst into an immersive bath of new experiences. A privilege to experience. The whole trip already feels like a far-away encounter and like the people who saw my performance will by now likely remember, just a fragmented memory.