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How gloATL Killed Little Five Points with Liquid Culture

Written By Paul Boshears on July 21, 2011 in Reviews

Photo by John Ramspott.

Last Friday the storefronts of Little Five Points became the site of Liquid Culture, a series of physical installations and movement-based interventions by the dance company, gloATL. Liquid Culture itself is a series that has included events at the intersection of North Highland and Glen Iris (the site of Sol LeWitt‘s often-forgotten 54 Columns) and the Lindbergh Center MARTA Station, culminating in two final performances at the intersection of Peachtree and 15th streets from 7:30-8:30 p.m. this Friday and Saturday, July 22-23, 2011.

In writing about only one part of the series, I have to recognize that I am failing to provide the full treatment these performances deserve. That said, I believe what I offer here will act as a holographic entry point that, just like each experience contained within Liquid Culture, will contain resonances of previous performances and nascent precursors of future performances that have yet to begin to taking form. To appreciate what choreographer Lauri Stallings and gloATL set out to accomplish, we must attune ourselves to not only the movements of the dancers, but also the site where the performance took place.

Many contemporary arts practices target the dichotomy between comprehension and apprehension, and Liquid Culture is certainly one of these. “Apprehension” is an interesting word in itself, and its nuances will serve well in discussing what happened in Little Five Points last weekend. Apprehension has three connotations, each depending on the context in which the term appears. On any day in Little Five, for example, there’s a chance you will see the police apprehending a suspect. On the weekends in L5P, you can see the apprehension on the faces of suburban parents, careful to avoid interacting with the homeless and “road kids” as they trail behind their awkward adolescents. Then there is the mental act of apprehending, which is not the same as comprehending. To apprehend signifies something like an intuitive knowledge that, while now known, is difficult to communicate in words, so we cannot say that we comprehend, entirely, what we apprehend.

Photo by John Ramspott.

Photo by John Ramspott.

To do justice to the sources of inspiration that inform gloATL, and Lauri Stallings’s choreography in particular, we have to think about process. Stallings has on several occasions discussed her interest in Nicolas Bourriaud as well as Guy Debord, two French theorists who are famous for attempting to untangle the relationship between the artist and audience.

Bourriaud first made a name for himself in curating and then publishing essays about art practices in the early 1990s. His collection of essays entitled Relational Aesthetics has been for the last decade a source of both aped admiration and insouciance. His emphasis upon interstices, the spaces in between, has played a notable role in gloATL’s performances. We can see the interstitial being examined in L5P very readily, as the dancing tended to happen in very, very small spaces. But this is only the beginning of what makes gloATL’s interactions with these spaces significant.

In his Society of the Spectacle, Debord theorized that social life has become enervated by what he calls the spectacle. The spectacle “corresponds to the historical moment at which the commodity completes its colonization of social life …. The world that we see is the world of the commodity.” Debord’s words help in understanding why Stallings would want to locate part of Liquid Culture in Little Five Points.

Photo by John Ramspott.

Photo by John Ramspott.

It’s not that L5P is a gaudy spectacle and so we can dismiss it as simply spectral; Little Five Points is very real. But it is not the special place that everyone told me about when I first moved to Atlanta. The myth of L5P is that it continues to be a locus of counter culture—the Greenwich Village of the South. (For examples of this mythology, visit the websites littlefivepoints.com and littlefivepoints.net, both associated with the Little Five Points Business Association.)

The most recent update of this counter-culture myth is from Atlanta’s André Benjamin in his cartoon Class of 3000. In both the cartoon and musical starring Benjamin, his character shares a vision of Little Five Points as a creative hub in a city that could use some more free-spirited self-expression. It is in Little Five that Benjamin’s character, a music teacher named Sunny Bridges, finds himself as the way-cool, creative engine that his pupils admire.

I love this idea of Little Five Points, and, on occasions such as during the Halloween Parade, I think this Little Five might still be possible. But, having lived and worked around L5P for the last five years, I know that its reality does not match the myth, and I feel I have a special access to understanding why Stallings and gloATL refer to their Liquid Culture installations as “utopia stations.”

Introduced into the English language by Sir Thomas More in the 16th century, the term “utopia” in Greek carries a double meaning: “good place” and “no place.” Little Five Points is such a good (no) place. There was some pushback against the massive Edgewood retail district — some folks felt that suburban pockmarks like Best Buy and Target have no place in a thriving urban center. But the truth is that Little Five Points has always existed as one thing: the shopping mall for Atlanta’s suburbs. If you’ve been to one shopping mall (probably even more clear if you’ve worked in one), you’ve been to all shopping malls. In this sense L5P is no place in particular; to quote Neil Young, “everybody knows this is nowhere.” The (no) placeness of Atlanta, as Cinqué Hicks and the Atlanta Art Now editors have stated, is perhaps the dominant feature of Atlanta’s cultural landscape.

A man in yellow joined the dancers with his own impromptu routine that gradually turned sour, to the point that he needed to be talked down. Photo by John Ramspott.

If we accept the myth that Little Five Points is a bastion of counter culture and free expression, then you were not listening to the crowds in Little Five on the night that gloATL performed. Little Five is a highly-policed zone, not just from the small precinct, but also from the perennial presence of suburbanites that are L5P’s primary occupants throughout weekends and school holidays. Little Five is a place where being different is a pejorative statement. There were several incidents where audience members were more than happy, safely ensconced in their packs of “nonconformists,” to issue verbal abuses to the dancers. I saw one group of teens that, after mocking a dancer in a shop window, sheepishly giggled as they realized that one of gloATL’s dancers was sitting beside them. No reasonable adult that walks through L5P hasn’t had this experience.

Yes, Little Five, and the Inman Park neighborhood, had an inspiring run in the 1970s and into the 80s, organizing against big development firms and a sour and disgraceful history. The Little Five Points and Inman Park of thirty years ago helped to create one of the largest parks in the city, Freedom Park, with a bicycle path connecting the birth place of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., to Stone Mountain (thus fulfilling the promise in “I Have a Dream” that freedom would ring from the top of Stone Mountain). The significance of this gesture comes into relief as we consider the last time a connection between downtown Atlanta and Stone Mountain had been sanctioned by the City: Memorial Drive, a memorial to the Confederate dead. What came to be called Memorial Drive was, until the Civil Rights era, called Fair Street, leaving us to wonder how it sounded when the developers of that time argued against having a street named Fair and instead building a grand monument to Stone Mountain, the site where the Ku Klux Klan reconvened in 1915.

Given such a recently charged history, we current citizens of Atlanta should admire the political aspirations and determination of the people in and around Inman Park and Little Five Points. But that Little Five Points is no longer. R. Land’s Yuppie Ghetto Over-priced Shitoles is much more true of Little Five than the idyll that many residents still cling to (myself included).

gloATL, in a sense, killed Little Five Points. This is why Cynthia Bond Perry of ArtsCriticATL reports feeling a charged, uncomfortable atmosphere at the performance; gloATL’s intervention announced a threshold moment in the life of Little Five Points. Perry writes:

With slurred speech, he told the crowd that he was going to show them how to dance. Dancers dispersed, leaving Mary Jane Pennington alone behind the glass. The man confronted her, pointed to her shorts and said, ‘Take it off.’ He drew an ‘X’ with his finger on the glass and started banging on the window. Three men, friends of gloATL, coaxed him away, but he followed the performance to the end.

By being brought to an awareness of Little Five’s stale and stultifying environment, we can begin to ask questions about what Little Five Points could be.

Photo by John Ramspott.

This is where Stallings’s discussion of relational aesthetics is significant. A central term in Bourriaud’s analysis is the “interstice,” a term borrowed and developed from Karl Marx that refers to small gaps. Interstices that exist between us are not simply empty spaces between static terminals; they are also openings, launching-off points, sites where difference becomes possible. Interstitial spaces are signs of life in so far as life is an activity characterized by the generation of possibilities. In staging their dance in these small, interstitial spaces in Little Five Points, Stallings and gloATL presented Little Five as a place where political action might be possible again. Rather than a grand utopian promise that all of us must cleave to (and be cleaved by), Liquid Culture presents us with microtopias.

Kathleen Covington, a board member for gloATL, told BURNAWAY in a recent interview that Stallings “designs the performance to create a unique experience for each audience member,” and “her big goal is to bring art to where their everyday lives are.” In Cynthia Bond Perry’s well-written documentation of Liquid Culture, there is a moment where Perry states that what she finds thrilling about gloATL’s performance is that they inspire a sense of possibility in everyday life. But I contest that this kind of thinking is flawed: Isn’t this determination that there is such a thing as “everyday life,” and then that there are “events” that exist outside it, already a position leaning towards giving up on possibility? The concept of everyday life, of business as usual, is anathema to the political courage that Atlanta’s citizens have shown throughout history. Atlanta’s remarkable past has always been made by those that challenge the business-as-usual attitude.

But we, as witnesses to these creations in our city, also have to do some of the heavy lifting. If we are to be critics (and more than just observers), we must accept and allow that, after a creative encounter, we will be changed in that creative process. This is one of the challenges that I consistently see in gloATL’s performances, and this is the promise that I suspect many of us feel in Atlanta’s creative communities today. A change is coming.

John Ramspott’s photographs and interviews with Lauri Stallings and Kathleen Convington of gloATL were essential in the writing of this review (as was Cynthia Bond Perry’s article for ArtsCriticATL). Click here for Ramspott’s photos on Flickr.


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  • http://doeeyedphotoco.blogspot.com april leigh

    good call on recognizing what lil five points is nowadays. not a place to be weird (seeing how when something notably “weird” happens, they reject and ridicule it) but a dive of consumption. this stuff should be happening in lil five all the time. it is a wasteland of community engagement and you dont exist there unless you came to shop there. maybe someone will hold a fundraiser for some benches and the square can turn into a cultural melting pot as opposed to a highway of shoppers.

  • http://www.kombochapfika.com Kombo Chapfika

    Brilliant! Having read this may I request that you write about #planking and it’s implications for performance art in the digital (DIY & Share) era. Is it an opportunity for laypeople to rethink how they interact with their environment and spaces and/or are we just being really silly?

  • http://www.continentcontinent.cc/ paul boshears

    Thanks for commenting, April!
    I guess, to be fair to L5P and the neighborhoods surrounding, the problem can be, to some extent, globalized. One of the overarching sentiments today is that you can “do good” by buying things and there is a lot of marketing that deploys that sentiment.

    For example, Toms Shoes. If you but one pair of Toms Shoes, we are told, someone in the developing world gets a free pair. What does that tell you? That you are being charged more than twice the value of the shoes, plus profit. Or Ethos Water. This is the worst, really, because the number one killer in the world today is lack of access to clean drinking water.

    There is nothing emancipatory about buying things.

  • Matt

    Interesting article. To me, this situation highlights the importance of social capital/infrastructure. We want everyone to be free to break the rules, but we also want every to be polite. We want cultural exchange but we don’t want to be forced to accept the “gifts” we received when we initiate such an exchange.

    What is the point of having an outside performance of this kind? Is it to remove the dividing wall between performer and audience or is it to impose a new wall upon the audience in their own space?

    I always have to chuckle when people talk about being “free” and “different” in l5p or any counter-culture spot, especially when bemoaning consumerism. L5P was always for shopping, it was just shopping for a certain group of people. Now they have to deal with people that aren’t like them.

    For my part, I know that if I came across a dance on the sidewalk I would want to join in. Would someone then have to “talk me down” and tell me that this is a place for people that are “different” to be different and a place for those who don’t fit in to not speak unless spoken to?

  • Anthony

    I remember Little 5 Points as it was in the 80′s, just as I remember Wicker Park, Chicago in the early 90′s before it became a shopping complex. In both cases, dissent (or at least, earnest expression) was effectively commodified. Does this sort of gentrification lead predictably to real estate boons? artists move into failing neighborhoods for cheap rent, attract those who wish to attach themselves to the scene. A few years later none of the artists can afford to live there (unless they operate retail outfits) and the original residents are long gone. It’s a weird phenomenon.

  • http://www.continentcontinent.cc/ paul boshears

    @Kombo: Ha! I like what you’re suggesting: that planking (although now I’m owling) is an opportunity to rethink and reenact our relationships to our environs. In my review of gloATL’s Hinterland here on BA I briefly touched on William Forsythe’s discussion of “choreographic objects” and you and he are on the same page, it seems, about how movement (or in the case of planking finding a place for non-movement) is affected significantly by the way the objects in a space orient us. That we can be silly is, I think, a sign that we’re doing it right.

  • http://imcompletelywrong.blogspot.com Casey

    I love to see writing that is supportive of the arts, but also truly critical in pointing out positives and negatives. Esp. like: “But I contest that this kind of thinking is flawed: Isn’t this determination that there is such a thing as “everyday life,” and then that there are “events” that exist outside it, already a position leaning towards giving up on possibility?”
    I have a lot to say about the confusion of situationism with relationalism, which I decided to finally weigh in on here: http://goo.gl/rGOSZ

  • http://www.continentcontinent.cc/ paul boshears

    Thanks, Casey, for your kind words and considered thought. In your blog post you bring up a question that’s been bugging me for a while also: what is democracy and what’s the value in that mode of representation?

    I sometimes wonder if representation is always problematic. That, by creating this illusion of participation at a distance and through the prosthesis of an elected official we are never doing politics but instead porn (this is a longer conversation, I realize). But then I see an amazing painting or read a life-changing poem and I’m back at square one with my thinking against representation.

    Please keep in touch!

  • http://imcompletelywrong.blogspot.com Casey

    In a conversation a few months ago I was essentially laughed at for mentioning the possibility of anarchy as a mode of existence. The above mentioned instance of the guy in the (ironically day-glow yellow) construction vest shows why even public art is actually privatized and oppressive. Real freedom, real democratic art, and truly interactive/relational art (i.e. the way it is Romanticized by so many,) would allow this guy to get as wild as he wants, possibly even taking over the ‘show’/spectacle. But the powers that be (with their need to own/control something) denied him that right. [Please note I am speaking radically, and actually do feel he was being more oppressive in his rude gestures towards the dancers. Thus the idea of democracy and individual rights becomes complicated as shown in my blog.]
    In many ways I worry if art should only exist in private spaces and not pretend to be public sites of freedom.
    I’ll stop now, but this is a hot topic for me…

  • http://imcompletelywrong.blogspot.com Casey

    one last thing – didn’t the whole thing seem like a flash mob advertisement for American Apparel?

  • http://www.continentcontinent.cc/ paul boshears

    Thanks, Matt, for your comment. Perhaps I did not state clearly enough that there is a difference between reporting what happens at an art event and critiquing what happens in an art event. A critique requires that the critic be open to the possibilities present in the art and my task is to then share my understanding of how I was affected. In reading your comment I feel I didn’t adequately communicate that. It seems I also should have more clearly articulated that the purpose of doing an installation in this public space is to bring into focus the lack of public space as a place where we circulate ideas; this loss has been obscured in the background. Note that I’m not saying “ignored” because that would imply that people were aware of something and were choosing to not respond.

    Political actions are aesthetic actions in so far as they make visible what has been occluded in the “business as usual” mindset. In contrast to politics there is policing. This is perhaps why, Casey, certain modes of anarchist living are untenable: politics rarely happens, generally what we have is policing, not politicking.

    MLK, Jr. was a politician because he got people to see American society (and specifically people of color) in a way that had been obscured and backgrounded in the name of “business as usual.” Politics rarely happens because it disrupts the order of things.

    This is why the cops tell the public to, “move along, there is nothing to see here.” To be made visible is to provide an encounter with a face of a sort. Faced with what we see, it is hard not to be moved to respond, and this is the possibility of political action.

    Anthony, you bring a solid question here and I hope that this police/politics dynamic offers some explanatory power as to how it has become the case that “art” and “artists” are now blue chip investments. That dream of the revolutionary avant-garde, of the artist as messianic figure bringing the message of a better world just on the other side of the grand project, has been fully integrated into the flow of global capital.

    Here, Casey and Anthony, then we see the value of the interstice: as Marx (and Bourriaud more recently) use the term, an interstice is a space that exists un-integrated into the dominant modes of capital exchange. As I think Stallings and gloATL are pointing-out, our task is to foster these microtopias, not in total resistance to the dominant framework of our time. Instead, as David Graeber states in his pamphlet “Fragments” (http://www.scribd.com/doc/91679/David-Graeber-Fragments-of-an-Anarchist-Anthropology) sometimes the dumbest thing we could do is raise that black flag and start slitting throats, sometimes should allow the officers of the State to have their dignity and go to their offices and sign some documents from time to time.

  • BPJ

    I disagree with the author’s reduction of L5P to “a shopping mall”. That’s overstated. In particular, it ignores the presence of nonprofit theatres such as 7 Stages, Horizon, and (nearby) Dad’s Garage, as well as Variety Playhouse, and other music venues. I’ve never seen a “mall” with such places, which in my experience give L5P a special character.

  • http://www.continentcontinent.cc/ paul boshears

    Thanks, BPJ!
    The scholarship will bear-out my description, though. Atlanta’s first suburb was Inman Park, so named because of the trolley that went from Five Points to what became known as Little Five Points. At this intersection was located a marketplace to service the “park-like” neighborhood of Inman Park. L5P was an Atlantic Station from the get-go.

    Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of great things happening in the neighborhoods; those organizations you mention are wonderful. There are great people doing important work in the area. But we should acknowledge that “non-profit” is only a tax status. These are businesses designed to not make a profit, that’s all. Being a nonprofit doesn’t mean that you’re in the business of transforming the social order. Transforming the social order is what art, at its best, can inspire in us.

  • Jeremy Abernathy

    Martin Luther King. Love that “let freedom ring” part, so thanks for reminding me
    I Have A Dream, Auto-tuned

    “And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

    And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.

    Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

    Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

    Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.

    Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

    But not only that:

    Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

    Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

    Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.

    From every mountainside, let freedom ring.”

    (Plus I really love how the Auto-tune The News version amplifies the natural musicality of Dr. King’s Sunday-sermon speaking style.)

    … But, yes, seriously though, things in Atlanta still have a long way to go. I think the issues you – Paul, BPJ, and Casey – are discussing have a lot of complex nuances, both beautiful and ugly, so it’s been fantastic reading along with you here.

    @ Casey – I especially appreciate that you’ve called for some separation between Situationism and relational aesthetics. They aren’t the same, and discussions of relational aesthetics often do conflate and blur the two together. It’s a diservice to a better understanding of what these ideas are.

  • http://www.PhilSims.com Phil

    It’s a great thing, having folks invested enough to analyze and comment on both dance and Little 5 Points. Thank you, all. I enjoyed Paul’s article and the responses.

    I felt compelled to chime in, but some disclosure seems required. I live in Inman Park, a few doors up from L5P, and I founded and run the Community Music Centers of Atlanta, including the L5P Music Center. If that is not enough to suggest I am either informed or extremely biased, I also have two daughters (16 and 18 years old) who dance with gloATL. After ten years of very rigorous training at the Atlanta Ballet, my daughters left the world of ballet because they were motivated and inspired by Lauri Salling’s vision, and because, frankly, they wanted to be engaged in dance that more closely reflected their own artistic, political, and philosophical convictions. (There was a definite point of departure for them, dancing in “Madame Butterfly” and feeling completely frustrated telling the story of a subservient woman who destroys herself for an unworthy lover, without space in the script or dance for critique of the confining gender paradigms that lead to the woman’s suicide.)

    Only my sixteen year old daughter danced with gloATL in L5P this summer, and she can be seen in several of the pictures in this article. More to the point, my daughter was one of the dancers who was approached by the drunk man in the neon yellow jacket. I think a couple of key points are missing from the commentary by Cynthia Bond Perry (I read her review) and in this discussion. I’d like to go on record with those since there is something to be gained in discussing both gloATL and Little 5 Points.

    First, gloATL always encourages the general public to join in when they are dance making. Having seen most gloATL performances, I can tell you the results and outcomes of this invitation and engagement vary. In L5P, the drunk man participated freely until he crossed a boundary most any reasonable person would consider necessary to enforce. He was free to dance with glo, to “upstage” glo, to talk to glo, to instruct glo, to sing to glo. He was left more or less free to gawk and sexualize glo dancers– an interesting aspect of the entire evening, the read of the dancers as objects of erotic desire, and not participants in an aesthetic act. Casey’s blog comment suggests “power” stepped in, as if the intervention were an indication of something unjust or unfair (?), or that the intervention were not the redirection of a kind of unwieldy and brutish male power the man displayed and exercised. (I’m not sure if that was the point, so I apologize if I got this wrong, but I didn’t read the situation primarily along class or racial lines– I read with gender based power in mind.) The intervention (and I was not one who did intervene, although I was ready) happened because the drunk man became physically threatening, and it appeared he was preparing to touch the dancers, after already making what most anyone would consider overly aggressive comments.

    My question : can anyone name another performance scenario in Atlanta, either “high art” or commercially driven art, traditional or experimental, where such “interference” or especially attempts to touch without invitation wouldn’t be met with expulsion from the event at the hands of “security” (likely armed) or worse, a trip to jail? I think keeping the scale of spectator intervention in mind is necessary for a fair critique or analysis of power at gloATL’s performance in L5P. The drunk man was simply blocked from touching and from remaining too close to the dancers he had “threatened.” And isn’t this ethic something we expect in “daily life,” that we each have power over our bodies and the right to decide who touches us, when they do it, and how they do it? I’m glad this basic human right was in play during the gloATL performance in L5P. I’m not a Marxist myself, but I would think even a Marxist would agree. And I was impressed by the restraint used in the restraining of the drunk man. It struck me as very subdued and humane. 9No punches, pushing, or aggression, really just redirection.)

    More importantly, in addition to perspective on how male power was blunted– the man was distanced and then free to go about his evening–, something more important is missing in the critical descriptions and discussions. There was a follow up encounter with the same man, about 45 minutes later in front of the Variety Playhouse. After the scene in front of Criminal Records, the man followed the dancers to the full ensemble grouping that occurred under the Variety Playhouse marquis. Once there, the man once again danced, shouted, sang, talked to the crowd, though he stayed a bit further from the dancers than he did earlier. What was interesting, and in my opinion, full of potential and very revealing of the “mythical” Little 5 ethos, as the ensemble came out from under the marquis of Variety– a revered performance space–, one of the gloATL dancers approached him, in a kind, non threatening, honestly subservient position, on her knees! (I have the picture, and would post here if I could.) This second encounter struck me as quite remarkable in and of itself, but especially in light of the previous scene. A dance company bringing grace to the streets of Little 5? Lovely. Could we ask anything more of arts and artists? Could there by anything more in keeping with the myth of L5P?

    I think this second encounter should inform any critical understanding or reading of the gloATL performance in L5P. You’ll have to indulge me a bit, but it is one aspect of the evening that would leave me to entitle a review of the evening “gloATL: raising the Lazareth that is L5P”

    PS> To misread or caricature the evening as an American Apparel catalog is also to miss both the beautiful formal elements of the evening and the really playful material, namely a blurring of the lines or a rich “dialogue” between between mannequins, dancers, shoppers, spectators (folks who came to see glo, not to shop), the “paparazzi” that always follows glo about, human forms on murals and in cars whizzing by the scene on Moreland, for example. Such humor and such funny and elegant lines. All of this provides an interesting set of possibilities beyond the events with the drunk man and not something I really look for in a catalog or normally while shopping. For me, though, the lines and dialogue are still “glowing” in the neighborhood, and I would hate to think it was only in my mind.

  • http://www.continentcontinent.cc/ paul boshears

    Thanks, Phil!
    I think I prefer your “raising Lazareth” title more, glo didn’t do in L5P they simply showed the body.

    I really appreciate that you place this contested incident with the guy in terms of gendered power because that dynamic, which is so pervasive, is rarely discussed.

    And I think this gendered-power dynamic also highlights the policing action of our everyday lives. The society of control, as Foucault described our contemporary situation, is marked by the internalization of the means of discipline, we police ourselves.

    Gender is performed and deviations from the norms of how gender “should be” performed are not tolerated in the main, we can look to all this hullabaloo about the Canadian parents that won’t tell their child what gender they are (http://ca.news.yahoo.com/blogs/dailybrew/toronto-parents-genderless-baby-vow-avoid-further-media-153045906.html). People notice when gender performances deviate from the status quo. Again, the police state of mind says, “move along, there’s nothing to see here.”

  • http://www.continentcontinent.cc/ paul boshears

    and in case you’re wondering where we might look to prove that gender performances are taught and reinforced in our everyday lives, take a gander at this collection of popular advertisements from not all that long ago: http://www.howtobearetronaut.com/2011/06/vintage-ad-sexism/

  • http://www.PhilSims.com Phil

    Thank you, Paul- I appreciate the follow up, clarification, and leads.

    After thinking about it more, if one reads the described incident with both gender and race in mind, the story of gloATL dancers and the drunken man in L5P, we see the distance we’ve come since the era of “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

    It also occurs to me that it should be manifestly obvious to people that if they find themselves in a neighborhood where one can walk through a skull to get a burger and beer, they have entered a carnival of sorts, and it’s money that keeps the merry-go-round spinning. It doesn’t mean the turning, turning, turning doesn’t have some poetry, deeper meaning, or humanity to it, or that every organization or entity in Little 5 has sold out. I also wish people would drop the Greenwich Village comparisons. Perhaps similar in spirit, but scale counts, and Emory is a bit too far and bit more conservative than both NYU or The Cooper Union. Throngs of residing college students would definitely change the character of L5P.

    I’m glad I discovered your writings. And as always, thanks to Burnaway for the platform to connect.

  • http://www.continentcontinent.cc/ paul boshears

    Thanks for your kind words, Phil.
    I’m listening to your Bloomsday recording on your site, Phil, and I wonder if you’ve met Ian Bogost over at GaTech? He’s also a Bloomsday enthusiast (http://www.bogost.com/blog/bloomsday_on_twitter.shtml). Maybe a conversation could come from that?

  • Emma

    Casey,

    I disagree that audience members’ choice to intervene and prevent the man in the yellow vest from touching one of the dancers “shows why even public art is actually privatized and oppressive.” From my observations, it wasn’t “the powers that be,” or anyone affiliated with gloATL, that intervened – it was other audience members and their choice to intervene is just as much a valid expression of participation as is his choice to sing, dance and talk to the dancers. Their choice to intervene when they thought a boundary might be crossed is also an important interaction with the performance and the other audience members and a choice that shaped the tone of the performance in a valid way, especially since the audience was intervening in what you consider to be oppressive behavior. It’s hard for me to agree with you that oppressive behavior is a means to true freedom. There’s nothing radical about watching a man sexualize or physically intimidate a woman. That’s not progressive art. That’s patriarchal, violent and oppressive. We’ve treated women this way, and have silently allowed and supported this violence, for centuries. I think it’s more radical of an idea to question a man’s objectifying behavior than to say he should be allowed to do whatever he wants – that’s an idea many artists explore. The idea that absolutely no boundaries is essential to true freedom is also not really that radical or new of an idea, especially since his, as well as others’, behavior is in part a reflection of our oppressive and objectifying perspectives on women and female bodies. I think it’s much more interesting, refreshing and radical to see a community intervene in order to avoid the possibility of gender violence, then to simply let oppressive behavior play out. I also identify with anarchist politics, but I don’t think total freedom means allowing our patriarchal or heteronormative behaviors run rampant and hurt others. Freedom comes from questioning these in a compassionate but blunt way, which I think the audience did – they weren’t aggressive, he wasn’t alienated, and he watched and participated in the rest of the performance. I love that the man expressed himself, even if some of it was ugly and uncomfortable – I think it’s wonderful that art, specifically this interaction between female dancers and male spectators, reveals ugly but real sides of ourselves. I’m glad it did, because we’re talking about it. And I love that the audience reacted to him. As other audience members, they also have a right to participate, and that’s natural. I think that they questioned oppressive behavior is not a reflection on the flawed privatization or limitations of public art and gloATL’s work but maybe liberating.

  • http://www.continentcontinent.cc/ paul boshears

    Thanks for reading and commenting, Emma!

    It seems that glo’s performance in this place has really touched several of us in a significant way.

    I wonder if there are people from that time in the 70s and 80s that would be interested in giving a talk or two about that time?

    We could, perhaps, arrange for something like a panel discussion?

    I know that there are a lot of active folks in the Atlanta area that would be interested to learn more about these people.

    Also, since I work in the L5P Community Center, I am really interested in hearing from the folks that were involved with The Great Speckled Bird (http://www.greatspeckledbird.org/history.html) which was Atlanta’s counter culture mouthpiece during the Vietnam Era.

  • http://imcompletelywrong.blogspot.com Casey

    Wow. Just returned to this posting by chance to day, but would like to copy and paste part of my earlier post for those who were offended by my interpretation of the situation:
    “Please note I … actually do feel he was being more oppressive in his rude gestures towards the dancers. Thus the idea of democracy and individual rights becomes complicated …”
    So I agree that the guy needed to have his behavior curbed for the greater good.
    Further, I would like to emphasize this direct quote from my reply:
    “In many ways I worry if art should only exist in private spaces and not pretend to be public sites of freedom.”
    To clarify, I LOVE what GloAtl and Flux represent for the Atlanta community. I worry that if people quit pretending that we are civilized social beings with freedom, we will be forced to exist only as private entities void of community. [Communism seems more oppressive than Capitalism, but it may be because there is no illusion of freedom in a commune.]
    Mr.Boshears – thanks for schooling me with all those links, they’re keeping me busy!

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