A hypnotic journey into Balkan mythology
You could assume that this piece of theatre is simply about sex. The title and the sheer amount of nudity would suggest so, but more than that it is an exploration of myth and culture. Where the erotic does appear, it is often hand in hand with death, with real Balkan traditions centre stage, using sexual body parts like magical instruments to fight against the horrors of heartbreak, infertility, and famine.
The show is filled to the brim with hypnotic traditional dance and emotive operatic music. Although most of this felt placed within lament and mourning, moments of joy and celebration really stood out. The performers were so passionate that the audience couldn’t help clapping and swaying along as if they had been transported back to a family celebration in Balkens. One audience member took this a step further, her body seemingly taken over by the music: she moved in a fashion that seemed to be a mixture of traditional dance and spontaneous joyful movement. Although this was not a planned part of the show, and will probably not happen again, I think it is a beautiful example of the impact that this performance can have on an audience. And it showcases the exciting risk of formatting the show as Abramovic did: having the audience move through the space at their own pace, touch distance away from the performers. Face to face (or in some cases face to vagina) you couldn’t help but be in awe at the unwavering dedication and passion within every movement and sound that the performers made.
The setting and costume felt very gothic and haunting. Traditional wear of dancers in white like appreciations of a Balkan past; bright stars against the vast black walls of the venue. Black and red were key colours across the piece: evoking passion, violence, and death. Concrete was also heavily featured, which felt like a direct call to the Balkans architecture of Abramovic’s youth. Against this backdrop, the passion of the performances felt even more vivid and intense.
My viewing of the piece is very much a biased one, as someone who is unbothered by nudity the show didn’t have any shocking effect on me (although perhaps that was never Abramovic’s intention). Therefore, I must ask, for a viewer who grew up in sexual repression (much like Abramovic’s own childhood), is this piece a liberation; does Abramović’s work shock you to your core and make you reevaluate your own sexuality? And a question for viewers of Balkin origin, does the use of mythology and tradition in relation to the erotic evoke something ancestral, deep within you?