- Venue
- Tate Modern
- Location
- London
Francis Alÿs: A Story of Deception opens with a 16mm film of the same name, depicting a road gradually becoming solid and visible from the shimmering liquidity of a mirage. The mirage disappears at the same rate at which the camera advances, eluding capture at every step. This portrait of longing for something never attained sets the scene for the rest of the exhibition; it’s not the winning, but the taking part, which counts.
Alÿs’ practice is concerned with performative actions and the mark they leave on the world, whether physical or metaphorical. A performance where a block of ice is pushed around Mexico City until it melts (Paradox of Praxis I, 1997) takes days but leaves a line of melt-water that quickly dissipates. However, the impression it leaves on the mind of the viewer of its documentation is decidedly longer. The work can also exist as a simple description in a conversation, allowing the block of ice, long-since melted, to travel even further.
This work is emblematic of Alÿs’ entire approach. The actions performed verge on the Sisyphean in their material futility. As a result, the process of their making and their entrance into an oral folklore takes precedence. When Faith Moves Mountains (2000), an event in which hundreds of participants were persuaded to displace a sand dune with shovels, is as futile as it is monumental. The sand, once shovelled, blows away in the wind, and the blades of the helicopter from which the event is filmed completely undo the work of the labourers. The action is documented in video, photographs and hearsay. The students who took part look forward with glee to telling next year’s freshmen of their epic endeavour.
Situating such transient and immaterial works in the context of a museum is a problem that has faced curators of performance art for at least half a century, but Alÿs appears to relish the challenge. The modes of display in this exhibition allow ideas to be manifested in a number of guises, not only grouping similar works together but also including objects, drawings, newspaper cuttings and other research materials. The performances themselves are mostly conveyed by video documentation, but these documents are not treated preciously as they have been in other recent survey shows of performance work, such as Marina Abramović: The Artist Is Present at MOMA, New York. Alÿs’ documentation of The Green Line (2004) is here shown with viewers’ responses, and a computer screen nearby allows a choice of speaker. This fluidity precludes the mythologizing of the document and, instead, fuels stories about the work itself.
Rumour inevitably plays a part in how performance art comes to be known and discussed, and Alÿs uses this to his advantage. Apparently he intends to make a work which sole medium is rumour; texts such as this one are the site for this work, and serve to propagate its communication.
Other aspects of performance that Alÿs exploits are the notions of rehearsal and re-enactment. A section of the exhibition is devoted to these works, and sitting together, they become a series of run-throughs for which there is no first night, or repeats for which there is no original. This is not to say that the works seem incomplete or unfinished, rather that there is a sense of process and experimentation that is rarely conveyed in museum shows.
Rehearsal I (1999-2001) depicts a red VW Beetle driving up a hill. The driver is listening to a brass band rehearsing, which we can also hear. The simple premise of the work is that while they play, the driver has his foot on the accelerator, and when they stop, he steps off the pedal and rolls downhill. This process is continued without conclusion or resolution. The upbeat soundtrack of the band makes this futile exercise more like a celebratory procession, a truly Sisyphean task which is relished rather than lamented for its eternal failure.
Perhaps the exercise of attempting to document performance work is similar – no matter the format, the work cannot be wholly or ‘truly’ represented. One participant in When Faith Moves Mountains says that certain parts of the experience were, “lost, I think, [they] didn’t come out in the film”. Alÿs, however, is not fazed by the impossibility of the task. It may be an uphill battle, but he’s ready with his shovel.
