B a N sH Ee b OY: Warriors of Goja

Monday, 21 November 2011

Warriors of Goja - India's got talent

thinking about the relationship between live art, talent TV and entertainment. thinking about the notion of risk in terms of the body in art and risk on the stages of mainstream and popular entertainment. Thinking that risk in art needs to reconsider its context in order for it to work - it needs to get out of art. If it must stay in the realm of art, then let it not be about risk, let it be about entertainment - about showing off - which is the only way it can trully bring risk back into the realm of art (the risk of value).

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I Take pictures with my Macbook camera

This is not my space -that's the point.
I don't have anywhere to keep it all except out there - with youxxx.

I am watching films at the moment, and that is why i look like this.
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Everything below this line is OLD
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This is evolving into an obituary for dying artists.
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This is a performance made from picking things up and putting them down again. It began with a song on a CD given to me as a Christmas gift. It began when I stole that green crate from the bakery on Well Street to store all my things in. My magic box David Wojnarowicz, not yours - My World!

You could say my process was pretty straight. Every night before Thursday, I panicked that I didn’t have a flash to share with the group. I panicked that I had misunderstood the task set, and spent time judging my mood, thinking about whether I felt like exposing myself tomorrow or not.

I became obsessed. I started to collect little things because they were black. I turned off all the lights and lit up my belly in all the colours of the rainbow, and remembered childhood photographs. I asked people about my ego, and they told me I definitely have one. So I started to show myself, but only a little bit at a time, a tongue, a leg, a belly. Not to scare them off.

Speaking came later. I was mostly concerned with how it all looked from the outside, the surfaces. If you could see my lips, my arse, my holes. Then one day I got beaten up so hard that it made me speak. So I spoke.

The thing about speaking is a revelation of the self, I was holding on, protecting my shins with the pads. I fancied dressing up. I have been dressing up a lot recently. In my pink hoodie and Nike pumps I began blogging. Each day I posted a new entry to the www . My world wasn’t enough, It was already brimming over, so I kept a diary out there somewhere with images, some stolen, borrowed some made up. I wrote texts and quoted others, I got acquainted with www.asianpunkboy.com and allowed people to comment on my entries. "Aaaaargh. i love this !! i am trying to write asian art history lit. review and all i can think of is star wars and Banshee Boy!"

I don’t feel done yet.

Love You
X BB