(On the Seghal piece "Instead of allowing some thing to rise up to your face dancing bruce and dan and other things" (2000) in the group exhibition 'Political Minimal', Kunstwerken, Berlin 2008)
We're on first name terms, the artists between themselves. This is why I allow myself to refer to him as Tino, as he allows himself to refer to other artists by their christian names. This divides us from them. Them is the audience, the critics, even the ones who possess an historical and learned insight into why and how the artists do what they do.
Thing, however, is nameless, a generic, a random. Being here with her makes me want to giggle and I am forced to ask myself, who is she? Her hairstyle (long, black, held back in a clasp), her clothes (body-hugging, provincial fashion), her frame (wiry) all smack of personality and purpose, not simply anonymous, mouldable material. Thing is, in fact, human, just like me, just like Dan and Bruce and maybe also like Tino. Thing is female, at the moment. Later on she becomes a man, a young man with blonde hair and a woolly jumper. Nonetheless, personal history is redundant. Flesh is of even lesser interest but was surely an issue when Thing and her other selves were cast for the part - rolling fat on the floor would be too sexual, a meat pool, warmth and rub. Gender is also of little significance but androgyny or plainness was most likely a prerequisite. As of age, I imagine the *wierdness* factor climbs enormously when an older body is put to similar use. But that would render it a different piece entirely and since co-authoring is not in the contract let's keep stumm about that. I am camouflaging as a mere observer and proud of my role as one of them. They, however, are not so lucky and will find themselves as the unwitting ghost writers of Tino's mise en scene, a low-fat encounter with the uncanny.
Thing has trained in dance or sport. Thing has trained and now the room is tight and uncomfortable: a padded cell without...