For decades, marina abramović has worked to push the boundaries of performance art — slamming her body against a wall, cutting herself with a razor, and meditating for 750 hours. Her performances were initially niche, but she was later featured in major exhibitions such as the Venice Biennale and the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Her memoir, Walk Through Walls, has just been published.
HBR: Tell us about your creative process.
Abramovich: I've never had any studios. The studio makes you lazy and comfortable, repeating yourself. I don't go on vacation, but go to places where there is no Coca-Cola, no electricity, and no civilization. I'm interested in nature and people from different cultures who drive the mind and body in ways that we don't understand. I try my best to get in touch with life, and in the process, inspiration will come unexpectedly. I dismiss lighthearted things and only interest in ideas that really unnerving and obsessive me. Such inspiration takes me into new areas. If I ask, "Oh my God, should that be done?" "Then I knew I had to do that. I love what John Cage said, "Whenever the audience accepts me, I go where they don't." ”
HBR: Why choose such an obscure medium?
Abramovich: I started out as a painter, but when I expressed my creativity in public and used my body as the object and subject of my work, I immediately understood that the body was my best medium. I had a hard time getting understanding and recognition, and the initial stage was very bad. But it took me so many years to lay the groundwork and make performance art as recognizable as photography and video. Even if everyone thinks you're wrong, believe you're right.
HBR: You were a young artist at the time and you were rejected many times. How did you cope?
Abramovich: I'm not going to give up. I've always had that personality. If I feel right from the bottom of my heart, I will try to do it. There must be such a belief, otherwise I gave up many years ago. After the 1970s, performance artists transitioned to painting and sculpture or architecture because performance art was so difficult. Now I'm glad I didn't give up then.
HBR: You've said that it's not just about finishing the work, it's about making sure it's seen by the right audience at the right time and in the right place. How did you develop your marketing skills?
Abramovich: In the beginning I had to perform anywhere I could, and the audience ranged from 10 to 40 people. Then I started getting invitations from festivals, finding curators interested in showcasing new art forms, and attending important exhibitions. A lot of artists don't have that kind of energy. They need collectors to buy their work or showrooms and take care of them. I haven't had my own showroom for at least 30 years. I had to do everything myself. But now I'm only working on projects that interest me. I receive many invitations to choose exhibitions that will take my work to new heights.
HBR: How can you have such a lot of energy?
Abramovic: My parents were serbian war heroes, and I was taught as a child that I had to sacrifice my private life and everything for my career. Why are you on this planet? What is your role and what is your responsibility? I grew up with this belief, and I still do.
HBR: You set yourself very ambitious goals both artistically and physically. How did you allow yourself to achieve these goals?
Abramovich: You have to train your whole body, do physical training, think about nutrition, don't take drugs, don't drink alcohol. And I learned from Tibetan Buddhist monks, Central Australian Aborigines, and Brazilian shamanic shamans. In order to sit still in the artist is present exhibition, I trained for a whole year. I don't eat lunch, so my body doesn't produce acidic substances that make me uncomfortable. I don't drink water until the evening, and I don't urinate when I sit still.
HBR: You mention in the book that you reached your limits several times in performance art performances, but you still continued to perform. How is this done?
Abramovich: Everybody can do it. The mind is the enemy, and every time you try something outside of the safe zone, you will be stopped by the mind. But we all have extra energy in our bodies that can be used in extreme situations such as air crashes or fires to escape danger. But there is no need to wait for such an accident, we can use this power.
HBR: Critics have recently slammed your depiction of Australian Aboriginal people in early drafts of your memoirs as racist. How do you respond?
Abramovich: This kind of controversy is really annoying. Although the words spoken were like that, I knew that I didn't mean that in my heart. My diary from 1979 was misworded, but I felt wonder, respect and love in my heart. I lived with my then-partner, Ulay, for a year in australia's little sandy desert with the pitjantjatjara and pintupi, and that year changed me.
HBR: Ulay used to be your artistic partner and your partner in life. How do you balance personal emotional and professional needs?
Abramovich: I tried marriage, but it didn't work. I spend too much time working and traveling, and I always feel guilty about it. Now that I'm almost 70 years old, it feels great. I don't have to tell anyone if I want to go home. I can do whatever I want. I don't want children because I don't want them to suffer. I had a dog and it suffered enough. I don't even want to raise animals like goldfish and turtles. I have a desert plant, and I probably have to water a glass of water a year, and I can do that. Falling in love distracts you, and raising children is even worse. When I was single, with nothing else to disturb, I could concentrate on art, not 100% but 120%, and that 20% made sense.
HBR: As an artist, how did you deal with this transition from being famous to being famous?
Abramovich: When you're famous, people who love you start hating you. Everyone is looking at you. They want you to be poor and struggling to make ends meet. I couldn't afford to pay for electricity until I was 50, and now I can. I don't think I should be criticized for that. This is the negative side. More important are platforms for talking about performance art — CNN, TED, and Bloomberg. I've been working with artists and I've been teaching. The memoir was published, and you can learn about my life from it. The nature of the book is similar to the documentary "The Artist is On the Scene", which is equivalent to a year of recording in front of the microphone, and the film crew will come at any time.
HBR: How do you react to someone criticizing and mocking your work?
Abramovich: If I knew I wasn't doing 120 percent of my strength, I would only be angry with myself. But if I do my best, then you can criticize, you can laugh, whatever you do, I won't be touched. If I'm not strong enough to put my ideas to good use, I know I'm failing, which is worse than someone else telling me.
HBR: When you fail, how do you learn from it?
Abramovich: I talked to some of my painter friends. They paint a painting, and the longer it takes, the worse the painting gets, and then they change a canvas and paint a masterpiece in two minutes. The more you fail, the more you understand what caused it, and the next work will succeed. You won't stay the same because you're risking exploring different areas.
Alison Beard | visit
Jiang Huirong| Translation, Wang Chen| School, Shi Qingjing, | editor
This article has been abridged and published in the December 2016 issue of the Harvard Business Review Chinese issue of Marina Abramovich: The Body Is My Best Medium
Harvard Business Review: Crossover Life
Edit | Qi Jing [email protected]
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