As organizer of AFA Gallery's performance art series,
Alternative to Noise, Michael Paulukonis coordinates the area's only
outlet for artists and art that defies label and refuses
categorization.
With twinkling eyes and a face that changes remarkably from one beat
to the next, and a gentle voice sustaining calm excitement, one could
sit for hours listening to Michael's descriptions of the "weird" and
fantastic - why things are beautiful and what they might mean. e.c.
thirstily soaked up stories of art happenings and the fresh ideas that
fueled them. And while some of these performances were held around the
world, others, it seems, evolved right down the street. There isn't
enough time and space in the universe to learn all the magic spells in
this wizard's book and before too long only one question remained -
Where do we sign up? What was it like growing up in South Dakota?
It was kind of small and... you pick up weird ideas there because
you're not really exposed to the big thing. All the cities were far
away. We had to drive an hour to get to a city of 100,000 to see a
decent movie or do the shopping. So my exposure to art and strangeness
came on TV which usually wasn't favorable. In one of the Herbie movies,
I think the first one, The Love Bug - it's set in San Francisco and the
lead character's friends are like weirdo artists, post-beatnik things.
And at one point, one of the Beatnik guys's paintings fall in the
street and one of those San Francisco street cars drives over it, backs
up, drives over it again and everybody cheers. In the movie, you're
supposed to know that these guys are silly and what they're doing is
silly and stupid, but I still wanted to do that. There was something
cool about it. You lived in Budapest for three years - did you know the language first?
Oh God, no. And if I had known of the language, I might not have gone.
It's supposed to be one of the second most difficult... I had an uncle
who had an apartment there and traveled back and forth. He said I could
stay for a month and so I went and found work teaching English. When
things went well I had to work about twenty hours a week to pay all of
my bills. It was only supposed to be for six months, but my girlfriend
of three years broke up with me instead of coming to visit like we had
planned and I had no reason to come back. The city is beautiful and
it's old. ...Every day I'd cross the Danube and just look at these
marvelous bridges and buildings. People just don't say, "And every day I'd cross the Lackawanna..."
Which is unfortunate. I was just driving here today and there's some
marvelous buildings. They're tearing down stuff, you know that old
Hadden Craftsman Building. They're knocking a lot of the great old
wharehouses, the factories down in Scranton. What are you going to do
with them, the industry's gone. What are you going to fill them up
with? Nobody has the money to fill them up with anything. So they're
getting knocked down and they're putting car dealerships on top of it. What was the most vivid performance you saw in Europe?
I saw a Polyphonics festival, a European festival of sound poetry. It
was held and organized in Budapest by the gallery that I volunteered at
and was it a French guy?... I can't remember the title of his piece, it
was very popular among the sound poets in Europe. Basically he'd mutter
the names of the fruits and vegetables and stomp on them. Which sounds
absolutely ridiculous and it does look absolutely ridiculous on stage,
but he's in his bare feet and he's not just jumping up and down on
them, he's like approaching them and fondling them and squishing them.
It was very sexual in a weird way. It would be almost pornographic
except for the fact that it's so silly and it's just his feet squishing
a pineapple or a tomato and he's mumbling the names and it's kind of,
"Ummm.... pineapple, pineapple, pineapple, pineapple, pineapple." How has exposure to this kind of performance affected your work?
...You've got the serious and the silly all at the same time. I like
that. I've only thought about that performance since I saw it, maybe
once or twice, but that may underline a lot of what I like put on down
at the gallery because so often people tend to think of high art as
being very serious and having nothing to do with anybody else. That can
be true and there is a place for that - you can create something that
most people won't understand and it's still a very important thing. But
it's neat when you can create something that has some very complex
high-falutin' meaning but is also appreciable on some lower level, so
that a six-year-old can grasp it at the same time and you can just
laugh at it and it's fun. I like to have fun. What do you tell people when they ask, "What is performance art?"
I start mumbling because I'm not sure myself. When you look at the
clinical history of performance art, it's come out of so many different
venues. There's outgrowths of the performance of poetry... of
traditional theatre... of dance, of the more typical plastic arts,
painting and sculpture. As painting started involving things that moved
and not being quite so flat anymore... And people started doing
sculptures that fall apart over a small period of time. Is that
sculpture or is that a performance? And probably things from other
areas, who knows, physics, lectures, what not. All get combined in this
weird mullaguponous stew of stuff that bubbles up and the stuff that
goes on down at AFA is probably somewhere between a performance art
series that you might see in New York and Los Angeles and a church or
high school talent show. So we're not going to see Karen Finely, naked and rolling in chocolate?
No. No we're not, but we've got the people who have been to New York or
Los Angeles or Budapest and have seen some stuff. About two years ago,
three girls approached us to audition for the series, and they came in
and they had their little tape players and they put in their Madonna
CD's and sang along. And those of us that were watching, our first
thought was - this isn't performance art, and then we all did a mental
double take. Well, who are we to say that that's not performance art.
Anything can be art in the 20th Century - why can't this be? And then
two, they had the courage enough to come and approach us and the desire
to put something on in a very strange venue for them. And even if it
isn't performance art - they're going to see some other people and
maybe they'll learn something from and the other people who are the
performance artists might learn something in return. What was the reaction to their performance?
It was one of the most controversial performances we ever had. Half the
audience loved them to death, thought they were really cute and lots of
fun, and the other half was just very angry that we dared to put them
on the program. They do not belong here. Well, yeah, they do, because
nothing else irritated you this much. Then performance art is often about breaking the rules of art...
You can set up all sorts of rules and define things and set up a
grammar for whatever you're talking about, but you get something that
breaks all the rules and it works anyway. A lot of the stuff that falls
into performance art are the things that are outside of the rules. And
maybe a lot of them fail or flop but some of them might succeed. You
stretch things, you try them out as an experiment. You might sit there
and have somebody do something for twenty minutes and they're
completely embarrassed and the audience is completely embarassed and
the piece is a flop, but the fact that it was done, like Thomas Edison
said, no experiment is a failure. Can you give me an example of a recent success?
On June 16, we did a marathon reading of James Joyce's Ulysses, on
Bloomsday - the day that the whole book took place on. We figured
that's 24 hours, let's try to fill it up. I did some research and of
the marathons, the longest one I could find went about twelve hours,
and that contained more than one-hundred readers divying it up. Well,
we went for twenty-four hours and forty minutes with about twenty
different readers. I can't swear for sure, but it just might be a
record. There was no audience member who stayed for the whole thing,
which was good because someone was joking, "What if someone comes in at
the beginning and stays there until the very end, just sitting there,
smiling." I'd be very, very afraid of that person. - By Alicia Grega-Pikul If You Go: What: "At A Loss For Words" Where: AFA Gallery, Scranton When: Friday, August 17 at 8 p.m. How Much: Donations appreciated For more information or to audition: call Michael at 343-2882
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