The Third Performance Biennial - Kibbutz Nachshon, May 2001

Text by Sergio Edelsztein - curator and Director of CCA

The decision to hold a performance art festival on a kibbutz stems from a fundamental view concerning the place of art in society and the artist’s ability to act, react and interact in virtually any given situation. Implying physical presence of the artist and typified by an interaction with reality, performance art in particular is regarded as the frontier of artistic practice. The title BLURRR, which was initially used for the events held at the Tel Aviv Performing Arts Center (TAPAC) in 1997 and 1999, alludes precisely to this aspect. At TAPAC, performances took place around the whole perimeter of the building – in the foyer, on the operatic stage, the atrium, and the surrounding streets – further accentuating the oscillation between “art” and “life”. Nevertheless, the high-art aura of the building, and the institution's outstanding technical capacities affected both the quality of the performances, and even more so – the audience’s response.
When Yael Kainy, the director of the gallery at Kibbutz Nachshon approached me with the idea of joining forces to bring performance art to the Kibbutz, it immediately struck me that this would be the perfect venue to organize a large-scale international festival. The Kibbutz could easily provide food and lodging for the participants, as well as a unique setting and unusual context. The idea posed questions, such as how the artists would make use of the rich and diverse locations offered by the kibbutz – from greens to factories, from cultivated fields to the communal dining room, from the animal sheds to the children’s numerous playgrounds. But even more so, how would artists relate to the kibbutz’ unique social reality, and what kind of impact would this have on the local community.
A bit of background is called for in this context. A kibbutz is a collective farm, very much in the tradition of late 19th and early 20th century Utopian Socialism. In the Soviet Union a farm such as this was called Kolkhoz. In Israel, dozens of kibbutzim were founded as part of the colonizing effort that ultimately led to the establishment of the State of Israel. They were instrumental in the immigration and settlement process taking place between the 1920s-1960s, and served a number of purposes. The individual served the community, and the community, in turn, served the individual. In order to create an egalitarian society, a strict ideological framework prohibited private property, and the nuclear family unit was nearly abolished.
The Kibbutz has changed considerably since then. Since agriculture alone could no longer cater for the growing needs of the community, factories and smaller individual enterprises began to crop up, a fact which changed the balance of labor, and had an inevitable impact on fundamental kibbutz ideology. Nowadays, when the majority of Kibbutzim no longer foster socialist consciousness – some are on the verge of turning into luxury neighborhoods while others have gone bankrupt, Nachshon is considered one of the few “ideological” kibbutzim still in existence.
The full extent of introducing performances into a kibbutz was not clear when the decision to hold BLURRR 3 in Nachshon was made. As a matter of fact, just as these lines are being written, several weeks after the event has come to an end, new questions arise regarding the human and artistic experience we all had there. For the foreign artists, the kibbutz was, above all, a very strange place – a place where money has no value (only members can actually “buy” against a monthly allowance in the local store), and a place with unique gravitational forces. In fact, the kibbutz as a whole is perceived by its members as their “home,” whereas the individuals’ living quarters, regardless of size, are referred to as their “room”. Space in the kibbutz, therefore, is an unusual concept; it is indeed different from the TAPAC or the consecrated realm of the museum and art gallery which automatically label any action taking place within their confines as an “artwork”. It is not a “no man’s land”, nor a street, where these performances usually take place spontaneously, utilizing surprise and bewilderment as an integral part of the language. The kibbutz introduces a different kind of space: as far as the kibbutz members are concerned, all is private and personal, whether a sheep shed, a factory, or a playground. For the public driving in from the city, however, the kibbutz offered a multicolored array of divergent sites, laden with natural, poetic and utopian connotations. This gravitational paradox affected artists’ decision-making about the works’ location. Most artists sought confined, well-defined spaces. These were not hard to find: Tamar Raban, Joseph Sprinzak and Anat Pick performed in the tiny gallery space; Elvira Santamaria in the communal dining room, abusing the kibbutz’ most sacred space. Cages were conspicuous too: Richard Martel performed in the fenced tennis court, Boris Nieslony and Adva Drori – in actual parrot cages; Tal Shoshan and Guy Saggee – in a sheep shed; Michal Mogilner – on top of a tree. Performing outside the perimeter of the kibbutz, as Roddy Hunter and Adina Bar-On did, made a strong artistic statement. Julie Bacon, Hadas Ophrat, Uto Gusztav and Eva Vajda, on the other hand, chose to stand up to this far-from-simple challenge of staging installations on the kibbutz lawns and paths. Not incidentally, these artists – along with Bar-On – were the only ones seeking strong interaction with the public. In contrast, Guy Briller performed constantly and all over the place, blurring out his own presence. Irma Optimist chose a frontal and neutral space for her “didactic” action, as did Arahmaiani; Seiji Shimoda performed right outside the dining hall during the festive Friday evening meal, his performance became a kind of happening diametrically opposed to the introspective and subtle quality of his action. In fact, all the artists were very much exposed, performing right in the middle of the kibbutz members’ “living room,” so to speak.
Once the four days of BLURRR 3 came to a close, the professional artists and professional public left the kibbutz. Only then, we are told, did the kibbutz members start to respond. Notes for and against this or that performance filled the bulletin board in the dining room entrance; open letters and petitions were an added ingredient to the members' ordinary, everyday conversations. Ultimately, the true story of the event at Nachshon begins here, with the community's involvement; an involvement heightened by the fact that they felt “invaded”, intruded upon in their natural habitat, and therefore compelled to react. For the community of Nachshon, BLURRR 3 was an artistic, bewildering and intriguing experience, but most of all – a communal one; a collective experience that the urban public may never experience. Have any of us, city dwellers, ever shared an artistic experience simultaneously with our family, neighbors, co-workers? Very few, if any. Since they were presented for the whole community, the performances in BLURRR 3 had the rare capacity to penetrate into the community’s dialogue, life, and ultimately – collective history, thus transcending the ephemeral quality of conventional performance. It would not, therefore, be far-fetched to find in this a reminder of the impact of primal rituals – performance art’s earliest ancestors – on the formation of shared identities in ancient times.
Performance art, due to its transient quality is considered the ultimate “hit and run” artistic expression. BLURRR 3 proved that it can leave a significant mark on the tightly-knit fabric of a closed community.

Sergio Edelsztein

"On Blurrr 3" - Yael Kainy, Curator, The Gallery at Kibbutz Nachshon.