Ope lemme just sneak past ya right there real quick oh sorry there whoops oh geez real sorry about that fella oh boy
Also real coward behavior by the guy here to to face away from the male model
I actually went to this. It was a Marina Abramovic retrospective. I think the naked bouncers were only posted in position every now and again, cos I definitely did not have to squeeze past them. And that guy in particular was must've swapped around in the exhibition cos when I saw him he was lying down on a table, face-up with his nob out.
Also, one of the exhibits had this old lady wearing white robes, doing a fast on some structure elevated above the crowd. She would only drink water for the whole run of the exhibition. Her entire living space was essentially cross sectioned, so that even her toilet was on display for all to see - and where she slept, and so on. She looked absolutely miserable but her eyes said 'dont worry, I'm on a spiritual/artistic journey'.
There was a quote from Abramovic (whose work this lady was replicating), about how on day 4 she went a bit loopy and felt like she could see everyone's energetic wavelengths or something.
Anyway, I thought the old lady could do with a morale boost so I smiled and waved at her, and gave a nod of 'respect, brah'. People were not pleased with that. I felt a sudden encirclement of dirty looks. Even my partner was a bit pissed off that I did it.
The experience introduced to me the debate of 'what even is arts etiquette'? Am I not free to consume it however I want? It's performance art - the whole point is the relationship between the live subject and connection you feel with them in the room. I said sorry anyway, and I can see that I was being a bit of a bellend, if I'm honest...
But inside I wondered - why am I the bellend? I'm the only person here treating the other human in the room like a human rather than like a zoo animal. The etiquette is to navel gaze and swill your wine. No wonder performance art is almost exclusively the realm of middle and upper classes.
If I was her - stuck in the rafters of the Royal Academy for a week, people staring me down every single time I take an increasingly watery shit - I'd at least want someone to rock-paper-scissors me at some point.
