It was difficult not to photograph the performance. From the viewpoint of a photographer, which I feel I am, there is obvious reasons for this. It was a real test, a real challenge. One that I did not enjoy much, but that is besides the point.

I had an inclination to photograph. I've lived for photography for a long time. Photography often gives a sense of purpose. As the world passes by, the camera marks time like a highlighter, it helps to remember different segments of life by braking them up. Furthermore, if we create something specifically to photograph it, one can use this process as a tool to step out of the every day, to explore paths which do not belong to logic, and for good or for worse, to escape these paths.

The photographic print acts as a marker within the marked, a place to know where to continue, to develop an idea further, to push all these boundaries. As for the Existere performance we didn't want to push or emphasis the 'nakedness' and decided not to use visual documentation. In that sense it made sense not to photograph. I am glad we have a piece of writing about it. As well as having created the glass installation. It is a beautiful piece with a life of its own. It’s an art work that has come out of thinking about documenting something in an alternative way. Whether it really conveys a true sense of performance is a question. I never thought of the performance when I blew on the glass or even as I read the text. But as the performance becomes about something a bit different than the actual concept of it, so does the documentation in itself

To an extent I feel at a loss for not having seen the performance. It is in some way a shame. But I have totally accepted this fact. To be perfectly honest, I don’t really feel like thinking about it anymore. And this is interesting: I think documenting is about archiving which is also about letting go and moving on. Photography acts as a paradox because in one way it tries to freeze moments and hold on to a past, but in another, it also acts as a bridge in helping to detach oneself from a certain happening.. Like war or death memorials; they are there to remember but at the same time they help us to let go. Perhaps it is the same when we note something into our calendars: It allows us to forget without forgetting.

It is not as if we didn’t document the performance, on the contrary. We made an installation to commemorate it and there are verbal memories floating around. And of course Rye wrote a meaningful text which I almost understand. I like the fact that I don’t fully understand it, because If we are debating the documentation of performance, I still don’t fully comprehend what one should have documented, which part? Was it the naked people after all, was it the comments of the audience and the participants, the sounds, the original ideas, the atmosphere? I ask myself whether it is more important to place emphasis of the documentation on what the idea is about or about what is becomes.

In the case of Existere, I felt that the audience enjoyed the work as a joint effort of a massive, delicate collaboration. Only very little of the original thought sickered were apparent to them. To the audience the work became about something different than we may have anticipated. If I want to make a statement through art or if it is an act of expression, this matters. In this regards it is interesting to reflect on what the piece became about and perhaps even to build on this in our future project, rather than building on our original ideas.

Existere was a huge collaborative effort (in which I probably collaborated the least because I am a space cadet and ironically don’t like performance art). I think we created a sense of community. I think each individual felt safe and challenged a the same time and this perhaps gave a sense of belonging. Which in turn gave a purpose, a meaning. To create a sense of purpose and meaning was incorporated in our thoughts of the existential struggle. And it is positive that this particular concept was born, perhaps not to the audience but the matter that made up the actual work – the participants. Art is surely a form of communication. I think we created a work which does not only attempt to communicate an idea to the outside but interestingly the work itself communicates with itself 9by this I mean the participants and the way they are with each other, during and after the performance. One could almost say that we created the work for the work itself.

It is interesting that we mainly used digital technology (Facebook, email etc) to gather participants and convince people to take part in our performance. We gathered them in a virtual space and brought them to the physical surroundings of an eerie dairy. The space in which we choose to create our work is also an aspect we could take further. We can celebrate that it no longer is essential to have a gallery to test grounds of planted ideas. An exhibition could remain entirely virtual. Or it could manifest itself in different physical spaces and only come together in a virtual world.

These are thoughts which were born out of the God of Existere and the paths of possibilities which are possibly worth perusing.

I have mixed feeling about our performance, and it seems very difficult to reflect on the final performances.

When I think back, it triggers many memories and experiences of the summer. The more I try to focus professionally on to the art subject and documentation of it, I feel pressure, uncertainness rising.

The endless discussions, finding models, handling models, testbed , no money and the risk that it may not happen for whatever reason left traces. The process experiences clearly dominate the actual performance memories.

Concerns and breezes of anxiety became daily companions. The Awareness that everything may rumble down in an instant sits deep in me.

It seems like on the 16th 17th 23rd of July we invited visitors to have a glance at our poetic sensitive world; in which we revealed deeply personal feeling. The performances should remain in my memories as the highlight or result of hard work, but it isn’t. It feels like we just opened a door.

Perhaps it is because these expressed emotion, thoughts revealed in the performance are still present on daily bases. It‘s difficult to think about documenting a project, which is still quit deeply emotionally embedded.

Consciously documenting it’s to hold on to it for the future, in a way you expect it being part of the past.

In this case, our concepts is very much present on daily bases. Perhaps we would need a form of the documentation that shows the longevity of the subject.

The comments on the glass could be different ones, each time another fades over a longer period of time.

As you know, I think this could be ‘re’performed, in the right place on the right time…

Existere in Reflection

Guys, these are thoughts that I began noting down after the performances and whilst I was in America. I've tried to expand these thoughts since then but this entry just represents my initial reflection. I'll work on adding those other thoughts.

Existere in Reflection

Working towards the performance led us into a debate of how we best represent the events as well as the problems of documenting performance art in general. Our decision not to document the performance sculptures had a profound effect on how I, and I think we, experienced the work, how I reflect on it and how I engage with it now that the events have passed.

In preparing the project I had not appreciated how certain decisions would impact my experience of the performance, notably our choices to perform in the work ourselves and to not document the performance sculpture photographically. From the moment of the first performance until the last I found myself feeling somehow unfulfilled. It was a difficult sensation to digest and make sense of at a time when I expected to feel satisfaction.

The process was very different to anything I have encountered. Working with largely non professional performers we were challenged to construct and plan a physical and durational performance that would be flexible enough for people of all physical and artistic sensibilities to be involved with. It was also important for us to convey a feeling of the concept to the performers. As we, JocJonJosch, were all performing in the piece it was vital that this was all achieved during the rehearsals and preparation. Once the performances began we took up our role as performers, and were forced to let go of the control that we had held in our position as 'directors' and 'artists', accepting an unpredictable and uncontrollable course.

We became locked in the work, almost as if we were the oil strokes on a painting, the steel in a sculpture or a pixel in a photograph or video. Unlike a typical gallery or even theatre experience, we surrendered any further control of how the piece might be understood by the visitors; each performance sculpture was different in form, sometimes numbers of participants, always amount of audience, duration, sound, light etc…

Initially I felt frustrated at not being able to step outside of the performance and experience the piece as, and amongst, the audience. By taking part in the performance we were restrained from talking with visitors and explaining and discussing the work further, we were not able to hear their thoughts and appreciate their affirmation of the work's quality and value.

This compulsion to control the piece and its understanding (to visitors) as well as the desire for recognition and respect was poignant. The project had developed into a far more meaningful experience through this particular performance process; I had unexpectedly experienced the observations of the psychological state of our subject matter and the form that represented those ideas through the process of the project and participation in the performance.

As an experience and process, the form of the performance no longer held any value to me, it was the process and experience that had become significant.