Body Performance Presence Disappearance Ephemeral Inframedium Intermedia Liveness Materiality Mediatized Medium Representation Reproduction

How to do Things with Disappearance

anonymous
The question of presence and more so of the disappearance of Native American culture and performance practices is perhaps the urgent, if not gnawing, undercurrent of scholarship on Native American performance. From claims of the disintegration of distinct and verifiable tribal traditions, with regards to inter-tribal performance, to the ubiquitous presence of Edward Curtis’ 1904 photograph
The Vanishing Race
, taken of Navaho tribe members, the landscape of Native American scholarship is steeped in the sticky situation of preservation.
Reflecting on this particular set of readings this question of preservation becomes amplified as not only a critical question of how one approaches the study of any cultural/ethnic performance but, also what is at stake in the theorization of storage, the means by which we amass that which we seek to preserve. Clearly the tension between memory and archive, liveness and document materialize in various ways throughout the texts. In discussion of Mindy Aloff’s article It’s Not Ephemera After All, Matthew Reason challenges that Aloff’s conceptualization of the archive renders it as pure history and, furthermore, acts not as a buttress but rather a replacement of memory. In this schema memory functions poorly, unempirically, is altogether too subjective and transitory. Here it is the
memory
that is always subject to disappearance.

Reason counters, ‘while memory is upfront about its transformations, no documentation fails radically to transform its subject, but often neglects to acknowledge the importance of such mutations’ (Reason, Archive or Memory, 87). If memory is recovered and necessarily altered through the act of remembrance and recollection and as such fleeting, then, so too is the archive’s continual re-collection of a past moment a process of alteration. For Reason, the project is not to expose to shortcomings of the archive, or archive theory, as much as it is to question if we can come to understand the archive as capable of incorporating both the transformations made to the performance act by the archive as well as memory. The archives of detritus that Reason envisions seeks the remains, the fragments and partialities of a performance as a means by which to handle the disappearing state of live performance and memory; the archive of detritus abandons any claim to accuracy, completeness or stability. It seems crucial, however, to ask how might we use Reason’s conceptualization of the archive of detritus as a methodology, as a practice? Is the goal here seeking out silences, seething absences and instability or working within them? What I wish to stress here is that accuracy is simply not worthy but rather unattainable, that even in the process of witnessing liveness, of perception is an act of interpretation and translation. The temporal and spatial distance between the live act and the archival document is not the source of gaps in understanding and perception, for even at the moment of transmission my observation could not have fully approximated the event. Performance, whether mediated or live, is not easily translated.

It is this very untranslatability that characterizes performance, for Diana Taylor. Given this condition of untranslatability, the archive is illuded by live performance. Moreover, liveness–whether performance or embodied memory–cannot be captured by the archive and while, for Taylor, the archive is far from unchanging, there is an implicit apprehension that documentation might replace the performance. It is crucial, perhaps, to think of this replacement not as a replica, or replication, of the performed act but as a stand-in for the live act. While this may be altogether too obvious, performance is always already a reiteration, always in a process of replication. However, in a metonymic fashion the stand-in turns the multiplicity of the existence of the live event and the documentation of such into the singularity of the only. It is from here that Phelan’s dissatisfaction with reproduction resonates most clearly, for me.

Phelan notes that culture reproduces itself by forcing, ‘difference into the Same,’ by forcing the two of gender (masculine and feminine) into the one of the ‘hommo-sexual’ which consequently requires the disappearance of the woman (Phelan, Unmarked, 151). This is not to say that women do not exist but, rather, that they do under the sign of erasure. Simply put, the overvaluation of the masculine, the phallus, produces not an (original) masculine and (poor imitation) feminine but purely the masculine. What is at stake here is the disvaluation of the fleeting, the non-reproductive and the seemingly expendable.

A second application of Phelan’s essay points us in the direction of knowledge production and the role of evidence. I take serious the question of how we know what we, indeed, know. This is not a project of self-flagellation or self-doubt but, rather, a call to take notice of what counts as evidence and the process by which something becomes verifiable. Of interest as well is the contact between the performance (object of analysis) and the role of interlocutor. For Phelan this interaction is, ‘essentially performative’ and therefore resistant to the claims of validity and accuracy endemic to the discourse of reproduction’ (147). For me, this positions Phelan’s initial imperative that, ‘performance’s only life is in the present,’ as concerning not only the inevitable discontinuities between the live event and the writing (or documentation) of it but, more so, an indication that those documents we produce are radically not of the performance (146). What might it effect to think of writing not as a mnemonic memory aid or a replication of memory but as an interrelated, yet, altogether dissimilar enterprise? Ippolito’s variable medium task force questionnaire, in theory, illuminates what the practical application of such questioning might look like.

Ippolito’s project is that is allows for play between the presence of the live performance and future iterations of the artwork. It allows, rather than discourages, the work to evolve [...] The writing of performance, it seems to me, begins with an acceptance of its failure to approximate the performance. Just as the performance will always illude the spectator, the specter of the performance that materializes in our writing too is incomplete, altered and fragmented.
The potential of
Ippolito’s project
is that is allows for play between the presence of the live performance and future iterations of the artwork. It allows, rather than discourages, the work to evolve. There is no anxiety about a perfect replication of the piece. In this schema, the performance is not denigrated by organic alteration, such as wear, or ‘emulations’ which may be entirely different works altogether. Is this an apt place to think about the radical difference between the performance and the attempt of writing about such? The writing of performance, it seems to me, begins with an acceptance of its failure to approximate the performance. Just as the performance will always illude the spectator, the specter of the performance that materializes in our writing too is incomplete, altered and fragmented.

The challenge in itself, perhaps, is to recognize that performance is irreducible to text and yet is a necessary and productive object of analysis. The appeal of being trained in performance studies, as opposed to other fields, is the opportunity to bring the ‘repertoire’ into contact with the archive, to ignore neither the live, the document nor memory. For Taylor, this is the act of turning one’s attention to ‘scenarios.’ While her critical call is to value the repertoire, the methodology implied is not as simple as a turn to the live. Her project is not to translate these points of contact into the other (i.e. the embodied into document and the document into the live) but, more so, to harvest each.

I have raised the question, by way of the title, how do we do things with disappearance? And while it is a cheap reference to Austin’s How to do Things with Words, these readings stir a sound need to consider precisely how to attend to disappearance. This, now altogether too long response, is not the place to do just that however. Rather, I return Curtis’ 1904 photograph The Vanishing Race. Curtis desperately wanted to preserve Indian tradition and culture and, yet, his work amounts to not the preservation but the authentication of the culture. When we ask the question of how preservation, driven by a colonial nostalgia, demands this performance of authenticity we collide with what Taylor refers to as preservation as a form of erasure. Still yet, erasure and even disappearance need not denote a void or blankness as there is still a trace, an indelible mark to heed.

Edward S. Curtis, The Vanishing Race 1904
Fearing the imminent disappearance of America’s first inhabitants, Edward S. Curtis sought to document the assorted tribes, to show them as a noble people—“the old time Indian, his dress, his ceremonies, his life and manners.” Alas, Curtis’ encyclopedic work did more than convey the theme—it cemented a stereotype. Railroad companies soon lured tourists west with trips to glimpse the last of a dying people, and Indians came to be seen as a relic out of time, not an integral part of modern American society. It’s a perception that persists to this day.
Phelan on Roland Barthes’ Empire of Signs: To live for a love whose goal is to share the Impossible is both a humbling project and an exceedingly ambitious one, for it seeks to find connection only in that which is no longer there. Memory. Sight. Love. It must involve a full seeing of the Other’s absence (the ambitious part), a seeing which also entails the acknowledgment of the Other’s presence (the humbling part). For to acknowledge the Other’s (always partial) presence is to acknowledge one’s own (always partial) absence.
Jon Ippolito’s essay, Accomodating the Unpredictable: The Variable Media Questionaire speaks to some of the challenges facing contemporary curators ‘overwhelmed by the deluge of endangered artworks’ that appear in an exponentially growing variety of media. (Ippolito, 47) The questionnaire that he and the Guggenheim’s variable media task force compiled suggest particular shifts in the conception of the proper care of art objects, and by extension, the conception of objecthood itself.