DAY SEVEN

By Scott Smith

Peggy Phelan- Un-marked

A performance cannot be saved. Documents are, Representations of representations of " " " " etc.

Fleeting. Performance becomes itself through its own disappearance.
I will disappear then. If only the economics would disappear as well. I would be free to fuck off then. Embrace my solipsism, my existential dread.
Why disturb the universe?

Things that begin to fatigue me.
Questions regarding the value of art, generally or specifically. Is it better art or worse art etc.
How to make the work last. A sense of permanence, desire for meaning, objects to attach to, cultural capital. Money...

Scuffle with the crowd to get my share, hoping for a notice, or some contact, or a check. Or love. Here comes my appetite, fuel in the shape of desire. Here I go again, my very own insatiability, my hungry ghosts.

What constitutes presence? Realness? How do I convince you of my own realness. Life in the bush of opinion and tastes. Why is it important to convince others of anything?
If a tree danced in the forest, and no one was there to to see /hear/taste/touch/smell it?

Another list. More fatigue.
Objects, dances, songs, choreography's (steps), intervals (harmonies).
Tired of qualifying things. Artifacts.

List of hopes
The per-formative Quality of seeing-the act of witnessing. Seeing/looking as creative act. The subjectivity of seeing. An activity less loaded with the need for personal gain or results.
Less artistic activity as capitalist model. Commodity, product, market value.

'Performance, the runt of the litter of contemporary art'.

Re valuing emptiness.

'To acknowledge the others (always partial) presence is to acknowledge ones own (always partial) absence.'

'An experience of value which leaves no visible race afterwards.'
'How to become per-formative utterances, rather than constative utterances.' ?

There was this academic discourse, and my Grandmother could not understand the words. So sometimes, she just gardened.