The idea for the first edition of hube magazine came after a conversation between editor-in-chief Sasha Kovaleva and I during my art residency in Bremen, Germany. I had been invited by the artist and curator Effrosyni Kontogeorgou at the Güterbahnhof Areal für Kunst und Kultur, with the theme of ‘niche(s)’. The term niche describes the role an organism plays in an ecosystem.
The construction of biological niches is the process in which organisms adapt or change conditions for themselves and other organisms in their environment. The ecological term niche goes back to the architectural term, which means a recess in a wall for a statue. It probably comes from the French word nicher meaning ‘nest’. This polysemy of the term in English and German does not occur at all in Greek as a singular word. Just by translating it into Greek, several words, new images, and contexts could emerge. With that, I focused on the question: do niche constructions belong to the realm of ordering or are they anarchic collective structures of becoming, while displacements of cultural ideologies or heritages become a negotiation of power or colonialist interpretations?
Carrying out this action in Berlin’s Altes Museum takes a humorous approach, like artistic practices in the early 20th century in Europe—in particular, art movements that tried to destroy traditional notions of good taste. Also, characteristic of this action is the choice of the medium of ephemeral collages through a performative, almost surreal process of uncovering how to use museum antiquities in different ways.
This interventionist project can be perceived as an attempt to subvert the monolithic discourse on the ancient Greek classical ideals about art, philosophy, and democracy by bringing to the fore imperialist and capitalist practices. As important and internationally widespread the concept of democracy is, so is the concept of anarchy. Etymologically, the word ‘anarchy’ comes from the verb άρχω—to lead, to govern, to rule, to dominate (with the prefix ‘a’) or from the noun αρχή related to hegemony, power, government, and leadership. ‘Anarchist’ is thus the same as the ancient anarchos—a(n)+archos—where archos meant the leader and is, therefore, one who does not want to be ruled over and wants to be autonomous. If in the Stoics we find anarchist theory, in the Cynics we find anarchist practices with the solemn and superstitious dissolution of every value and institution of organised society, with Diogenes of Sinope (412–-323 B.C.) being the most important representative of the Cynic movement.
Photography by TAREK MAWAD
Prints of 1906 with Polaroids 2022, 28 x 42 cm
Photography of performance by FRANZISKA VON DEN DRIESCH
hube: Performative art is tightly connected to bodily practices. How would you describe your relationship with your own physicality? Which word would be a better fit: harmony, challenge (ordeal), interaction, or exploration?
Yiannis Pappas: Performance art serves as a bridge, where the mind synthesizes and analyses the concepts that the body communicates. As a visual artist, I believe that any idea, meaning, or message can find an appropriate medium of expression. Similarly, in the immaterial art of performance, the body, as the artist’s medium, tries to communicate ideas and values through the grid of temporal time and audience participation. Regarding my perception of physicality, I would like to concentrate on long durational performances, which require exceptional endurance and stamina.
Every long-duration performance, depending on its special needs, requires specific preparation regarding the physicality of the performer, from diet to physical exercises. Because of the difficulty of a continuous action lasting several hours a day, the body should be properly trained, especially in terms of stamina. In every performance presentation, I don’t rehearse the action itself before it happens in public, whether it is a performance lasting a few minutes or a long time. So this condition, both in the body itself and in the materials that make up the work, brings about an excavation process of discovering and learning the needs of the work at the same time that it is happening, with the goal of the best possible on-site completion. So endurance and balance, beyond preparation, are part of the work itself and are what I find challenging in this form of expression. Live art includes the unpredictable as an important and integral part of its life. The psychological issue is certainly the most difficult aspect to manage when one is confronted with a long performance. The mind is the only real obstacle that this art form carries, but it can also be tamed and balanced with mental and spiritual exercises. The sense of trust in your collaborators is important too, which helps to alleviate the ordeal. Finally, it is the very participation of the audience that is crucial in terms of the physical and psychological stamina of the performer to continue, develop, and complete the work. I would say that all the words you mentioned describe my relationship with my own physicality, depending on the concept of the work, and the physical and mental state I am in when approaching a performance.
h: The art of performance seems to go beyond and transcend theatrical traditions, taking us back to early practices of collective and individual action, which combine narrative-based and rapturous improvisation. How do you balance between staging and improvising in your practice?
YP: We should start by examining ancient performative or/and ritualistic practices that bring us closer to performance art as we perceive it today. In Greek mythology, Polyhymnia was the muse, an inspirational goddess of performative arts such as dance, sacred poetry, eloquence, and pantomime. Her name comes from the Greek words poly, meaning ‘many’, and hymnos meaning ‘hymns.’
Furthermore, Mime (mimos) was a performative aspect of primitive rituals that originated at its earliest in ancient Greece, primarily as comedy sketches that inspired writing, philosophy, and theatre. Slapstick, coarse language, and seduction were the reason the Eastern Roman Empire (5th century) decided to terminate the existence of mime and performance arts, and in many cases ‘baptised’ the performers as ‘saints’ after they were killed as idolaters. But people can’t live without such entertainment, and as the historian Leo the Deacon wrote in the 10th century, “mockery brings good fortune and obscenity exorcises evil.” I believe that this example proves that when a genre of entertainment, even in the so-called ‘dark Middle Ages’, is beloved by the public, that genre will exist and survive no matter how much the powerful may fight it. Of course, performance art is not about ‘entertainment’ for me, but rather a communicative and expressive tool, which can be the most radical collective connection with the public, as much as music itself. Specifically, for long-duration performances, no rehearsal can be held, so staging and improvising takes hours, days, or even months. Practising intensively with long durational performances since 2016, I would say that this is still, for me, a source of exploring, experimenting and discovering new ideas, methodologies, and conceptions.
h: Form and essence are connected philosophical criteria. Contemporary art is closer to philosophy, where the form itself is able to shape the content. What do you think about this?
YP: I totally agree. Philosophy and the arts are on the same spectrum, as part of an endless study of the cosmos itself. Art is not only about representations, interpretations, expressions, and forms; art attempts to go further than mimesis, as Plato first tried to define it. Especially with immaterial art, the concept of the ephemeral form that shapes the content is a well-known practice, which can be found once again in ancient times.
The famous Diogenes of Sinope , the most important representative of the Cynic movement, did not establish a theoretical system of values, but by his actions and his performative interventions, he ridiculed and literally humiliated the dominant social conventions, to a point that even the most radical anarchist or activist of our time would hardly achieve.
h: Many believe that the brilliant Marina Abramović will influence performance art for a long time to come, as well as inspiring fans and students. Is it difficult to collaborate with her?
YP: Marina Abramoviç has been the catalyst for the conception of durational performance as an autonomous medium in the arts, a pioneer and constant researcher in the field of live arts who has inspired me to reset my point of view as an artist. Collaborating with Marina Abramoviç and the MAI Institute is, for me, more than work. It is about communication and the exchange of knowledge and ideas that lead to a pure co-experience, always allowing space for experimentation.
h: How important is reality to you? It seems like it is only an element of your stories, just one of the tools. Can you reflect on this a little?
YP: Live art bears the elements that constitute life itself, the human being is such a physical and a symbolic body in a certain context, and this is a significant reality. We use the mind as a tool for escaping reality, but it works when we are not focused on the here and now. We are perfect and imperfect, strong and weak, and we sway between the past and the future. This multifaceted exposure of ourselves to everyday life creates the precondition for any meaningful communication, as in performance art. The effort of disclosure or admission of reality is certainly a two-way process, which can only happen when there is empathy, honesty, and trust, and when there is no fear. That is about being receptive to the breadth of our thoughts and being aware of the experience of the now.
h: Documenting (recording) puts at risk the multidimensionality of performance. The context, the emotional effect of presence, and the sense of time and place disappear. Could you tell us about the experience of documenting your artistic statements?
YP: There are different procedures for documenting a live performance. Sometimes everything is clear on how that has to be done before the execution. Other times, I don’t think about it at all, and sometimes the idea of capturing certain moments comes while the work is happening. It is accurate that the context, the emotional effect of presence, and the sense of time and place can disappear.
Photography of performative intervention at Altes Museum (Berlin) by TAREK MAWAD
Photography of performative intervention at Altes Museum (Berlin) by TAREK MAWAD
Photography of performative intervention at Altes Museum (Berlin) by TAREK MAWAD
And sometimes, unsatisfactory documentation constrain the multidimensionality of a performance. In long-duration performances, things become more dispersed, because of being confronted with how many minutes of the filming material or about how many photographs can integrate, for example, a week-long experience into a presentation lasting a few minutes or into a single frame. Even though we have the opportunity to use multiple technologies for the best outcomes today, most people believe that reality can be converted into images or documentation that can be represented on their screens. We consume so many images every day, and they are never enough. We want more and more, and this is a reality, too, when people experience a live performance, and they watch it by filming it on their smartphones. Besides all the traditional records of a live performance, the audience is also the body of evidence that becomes the polyphonic shared deposition to the actuality of the work. It is a part of the legacy as collective participatory memory is created.
At the moment, I am dealing with an enormous archive of material from my last durational performance, The Revise, which happened in collaboration with the Marina Abramović Institute and the Royal Theatre Carré in Amsterdam for the No Intermission (2022) project. Thousands of typewritten pages by the visitors were essentially part of the performance, and I would like to print those after finding a publisher, and there were also dozens of hours of sound recordings for a podcast, and the videos and the photos that can present an imprint of the performance. All these outcomes need a couple of working months until everything can be looked at properly and well-utilised.
h: What kind of relationship do you have with time? How would you define the past? What about experience, legacy, and heritage? When does the future begin?
YP: Time, for me, is a constant new redefinition of everything, including of my own self. The past might be the coefficient value of our perception because of the experiences we can recall, but there is always the present time to reverse our views. The past, like the future, belongs to a sphere where memories or imagination overshadow the present time. Experience refers to the past, legacy directs to the future, and heritage might guide us to the present—and all these create our actions and our motivations for establishing a better collective apperception of where the future begins.
This is an excerpt from an article published in the first issue of hube magazine. For the full experience, you can buy a copy here.
