"Yesterday (Saturday, 9/11/10), I washed my hair, twice."
That's the kind of fact that I dread reading on a blog. However, the second washing was significant for me because it was part of Emily Sloan's "Wash" at Gallery 1724. I entered the space as a voyeur and exited it as a participant.
The gallery is still exhibiting Matthew Glover's, The Knitted Nudes, which was a delicious surprise to someone who spent way too many Sunday afternoons in the company of grand aunts knitting asexual flora and fauna. My partners in art smiled appreciatively as we meandering among the nudes. We didn't see Emily and so I called out. She was at the back of the gallery, installed in her installation, a simple hair washing chair and sink, shampoo's, conditioners, towels. The setting was pretty typical except for a single flourish, thousands of 3" square aluminum foil sheets covering the floor.
Emily stood alone with wet hair having just washed her own. I pouted, "You're not washing anyone's hair." She smiled mischievously, not because she's particularly mischievous, that's just how she smiles. "I could wash your hair." I did what I usually do when confronted. I offered up the youngest member of my party. She gave me a go-to-hell look and politely demurred. I got in the chair.
Emily covered me from the neck down with a sheet and placed a towel around my neck. As the warm water poured over my head and she lathered my locks, I peppered her with questions. Only her answers were worth reproducing.
- 12.
- 1 brought shampoo.
- No charge and no one has paid.
- Mostly friends, student, or fellow artist/art admirers although I posted advertisements in non-art spaces.
-
- It's both ritualistic and intimate.
- More intimate than feet (and without the connotations of religion or power)
- It references the relationships established in beauty shops.
- You can get up now.
A. reconsidered and I took pictures and reflected on the experience.
The beauty and the power of this piece lies in its simple focus.
"Wash" distills what society in general would label a menial act. It dislocates the act from a context of the quotidian, of power, of the financial inequality in which we usually encounter it. "Wash" rarefies the subject of shampooing into a ritual. With each performance, Emily restores the intimacy and poignancy of the basic act of grooming, cleaning, caring for one another. In today's financial-political context (which appears to be the only one worth reporting), that may be the most radical performance art I'll experience all year. (Yes, I'm given over to hyperbole.)
Regardless, I enjoyed the intimacy and the cleanse.
That's the kind of fact that I dread reading on a blog. However, the second washing was significant for me because it was part of Emily Sloan's "Wash" at Gallery 1724. I entered the space as a voyeur and exited it as a participant.
The gallery is still exhibiting Matthew Glover's, The Knitted Nudes, which was a delicious surprise to someone who spent way too many Sunday afternoons in the company of grand aunts knitting asexual flora and fauna. My partners in art smiled appreciatively as we meandering among the nudes. We didn't see Emily and so I called out. She was at the back of the gallery, installed in her installation, a simple hair washing chair and sink, shampoo's, conditioners, towels. The setting was pretty typical except for a single flourish, thousands of 3" square aluminum foil sheets covering the floor.
Emily stood alone with wet hair having just washed her own. I pouted, "You're not washing anyone's hair." She smiled mischievously, not because she's particularly mischievous, that's just how she smiles. "I could wash your hair." I did what I usually do when confronted. I offered up the youngest member of my party. She gave me a go-to-hell look and politely demurred. I got in the chair.
Emily covered me from the neck down with a sheet and placed a towel around my neck. As the warm water poured over my head and she lathered my locks, I peppered her with questions. Only her answers were worth reproducing.
- 12.
- 1 brought shampoo.
- No charge and no one has paid.
- Mostly friends, student, or fellow artist/art admirers although I posted advertisements in non-art spaces.
-
- It's both ritualistic and intimate.
- More intimate than feet (and without the connotations of religion or power)
- It references the relationships established in beauty shops.
- You can get up now.
A. reconsidered and I took pictures and reflected on the experience.
The beauty and the power of this piece lies in its simple focus.
"Wash" distills what society in general would label a menial act. It dislocates the act from a context of the quotidian, of power, of the financial inequality in which we usually encounter it. "Wash" rarefies the subject of shampooing into a ritual. With each performance, Emily restores the intimacy and poignancy of the basic act of grooming, cleaning, caring for one another. In today's financial-political context (which appears to be the only one worth reporting), that may be the most radical performance art I'll experience all year. (Yes, I'm given over to hyperbole.)
Regardless, I enjoyed the intimacy and the cleanse.
