In the Presence

2 Young Artists Eye to Eye with Marina

 

Visiting New York as part of a class at the University of Hawai'i, Jodie Chock and Stephanie Gumpel had 10 days to take in all they could of this season's abundance of art in the City. At MoMA, they found themselves both inspired and intrepid enough to wait for a turn sitting across the table from Marina Abromovic.

Here, in her own words, is Jodie's account and reflection upon the experience:

I will not deny the fact that before this pilgrimage to the City of Artists, I had absolutely no idea who Marina Abramovic was. Being a part of her piece, The Artist Is Present, was at the suggestion of Professor Debra Drexler, who assured me that this would be a unique experience and a great opportunity for a young artist. My blind ambitions got the best of me and I immediately volunteered myself to sit with Marina. However, there was already a line of eager individuals that wrapped around the exhibition and I quickly realized that I would have to return to the museum another day if I were to share a moment with her.

I then decided to pay a visit upstairs to determine how dedicated I could become to this project. After viewing videos of That Self, connecting with the horrors of the Bosnian War through Balkan Baroque, and getting lost in Luminosity, I was hooked. This woman was intense, passionate, and INSANE! I absolutely HAD to gaze into those eyes. I was still unsure of what exactly I was getting myself into but I knew I could not leave New York without this.

I woke up early that Friday morning and got myself to the MoMA an hour before the doors opened. There were already approximately thirty individuals who anticipated the same moment. My friend Stephanie arrived with high energy and in good spirits. She was ready to do this and her presence eased any anxiousness I had been feeling up to that point. When we were finally let through to the stairs that led to the area where Marina would be sitting, I was worried that we would be trampled in a sea of people or would have to trample others in order to grab a spot in line. Instead of pushing our way though, Stephanie took hold of my wrist and I returned her grasp. She assured me that we would get to Marina safely without any bloodshed if we bonded together and advanced in a calm but determined manner. We moved as one and secured our positions together.

Stephanie and I spent the entire afternoon in anticipation of Marina. We expressed our excitement, making new discoveries about art and how this experience would change us. We quickly realized that this piece of art did not begin when we sat with Marina. No, it began right here, in the line. Making connections with each other was an important step in the process. Marina was always in our view and our hearts began to race as we slowly approached the front of the line. We were seventh and eighth in line when three pm rolled around. We would have had to meet our classmates at the Whitney in forty-five minutes so we relayed our situation to Professor Drexler. She was entirely supportive, reminding us of the greatness of this opportunity. Stephanie thanked her, informing her of our “commitment.”

Finally, at approximately five o’clock pm, our moments arrived.

Stephanie sat first, and I second.

I walked slowly and confidently towards Marina, who sat with her head down. I sat across from her and quickly positioned myself. When she rose, I felt her spirit becoming activated. She immediately stared straight into my eyes, piercing deep as if to penetrate my soul. I am not the most spiritual of human beings, but I could not help but feel a range of emotions sweep across me at that moment, as if she was communicating them to me. The look in her eyes was one of pain and suffering, possibly due to the strain her body felt after long hours of sitting or possibly due to all the physical and emotional pain that she had endured throughout her eventful career.

I tried with all my might to purge myself of any questions I had about the woman and her work. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. But I was unable to help myself. A flood of words was beginning to break through the gates and there was nothing I could do to stop it. She seemed to sense this in me as her stare intensified and she leaned in closer. She persisted in her eye contact and refused to quit. There was even a moment when I attempted to look away. Her eyes darted to mine and they were immediately brought back from wandering off. This was the most powerful moment for me. From this point on, I felt as though all my questions were being answered. There were no more words. Only feelings. I ended my session only when I felt she was allowing me to and I thanked her with my eyes, discovering that I now had the power to do so. I walked away with a sense of calm and newfound feelings of empathy.

Marina Abramovic has taught me a great deal about the human spirit, that it is alive and it must be treated with care. No longer was this trip about me doing as much as I could and being ambitious for the sake of ambition. I now needed to move forward with purpose and awareness. As an artist and as a human being. My fifteen minutes with Marina has truly changed my life.

Stephanie recorded her journey in words an pictures in her blog, below is an excerpt from her post of that day:

The line itself was a performance art piece.

There were about 100-200 people there early, trying to get a good spot in line. We all set ourselves up in a line at the bottom of a set of stairs leading to the piece, waiting for the starting gun.

I imagine it was a similar scene to the land grabs of the 1800's. The guard had to calmly explain to us that we cannot run and that everyone is number 1. Basically, he was saying that anything goes, except running.

Jodie and I decided that if we could not get a good spot in line humanely, it wasn't worth it. It doesn't make sense to participate in a piece about human evolution and connection, and elbow and stomp on the foot of every person on your way to that evolution. I think that would have been missing the point of the piece.

The guard unleashes the crowd, who immediately starts *running*, elbowing and pushing their way up the stairs. I take Jodie's hand and see there is a large space to the right that everyone is somehow missing because they are so caught up competing for one space in the middle of the staircase. We scoot to the right and are in the front of the pack.

We break free from the mob and calmly get a space about 15 people from the front. This was a great spot, but still no guarantees. One man sat with Marina for 7 hours. He was the first in line and he only left when the museum closed.

Jodie and I wait peacefully in line for 8 hours to be in the piece and sit with Marina. We talk with our line friends and connect with them. Although, at first, I want a better place in line. I realize that 8 hours of waiting make the piece itself so much richer. It is an 8 hour meditation of why I want to be here, and I discover just how dedicated I am to participate in a performance like this. I transcend my fear of being in this performance through the waiting process.

When it was my turn to go, I am fully ready and convicted, I have no nervousness. I am joyful and present.

The sitting is beyond any description that I can convey to you. I sit for 28 minutes with Marina and in this time, the whole flux of the pain and beauty of my life thus far passes through me. There are moments of gushing communication between us, there are moments of complete stillness without any pain, there are mundane moments, there are moments of intense struggle. Marina listens patiently to everything and the flux of the experience of life flows between us quite smoothly at times.

So much good comes from this piece. 1) I make 4 new contacts with new friends with an uncomparable shared experience. 2) I am reborn and more confident than ever to be a performing artist. 3) I feel like planet earth is okay, and we're going to be okay if art like this is occurring now, in this moment.

To read more and view images visit http://www.stephaniegumpel.com