- Venue
- A Foundation
- Location
- North West England
Wrong love at A foundation
13th Feb 9pm- 14th Feb 3am
Perhaps my love of the wrong, or ‘wrong love’, tolerance levels have been conditioned by the likes of Paul McCarthy, Leigh Bowery, Viennese Actionism, Miss Rosewood and The Jim Rose Circus. However, the night at Liverpool’s A-Foundation, which promised a lot of romantic wrongness, turned out a pretty tame affair.
Puerile passions were only unleashed on heart shaped post-it notes adorning the toilet wall, by the relatively sparse crowd. The performance from Israeli artist Shelly Nadashi; describing her experiences of a Berlin doorway frottage, and the installation featuring a room full of used hosiery gussets, offered relief from the otherwise tried and tested live happenings.
The Father and Son performance by Kimbal Bumstead, simulating incestuous fornication saw the pair wrapped together in gaffer tape rolling around on the floor. It all ended a bit awkwardly though, like a schoolboy error, with pissed up punters heckling suitably unwitty ‘encouragements’. In addition, Richard Proffit’s Spaghetti-Western-o-phile wigwam construction, aspiring to portray teenage reclusively, only appeared as though left behind by Mike Nelson’s Amnesiacs.
The live painting was all a bit like Rolf Harris meets Art Attack, and DJ efforts were lost in the vast warehouse space. Neither were enhanced by the blasting industrial heaters.
The problem as an audience member was that the event was marketed at street level as an art party, and individual events were unscheduled so those of us interested in art as well as parties, ended up missing things we wanted to see, and seeing things we wanted miss, and those just interested in parties waited around, got bored and went home early.
Subversively however, the Wrongest Love of all was witnessed in the graveled smoking area, where under the “cover” of a bar-height table, a member of the public took a piss whilst chatting up a young lady, who remained staggeringly oblivious to the gathering liquid around her Manololos.
Perhaps Wrong Love wasn’t quite the alternative Valentine’s Day celebration it could have been, but maybe next year, Wrong Love could try harder….harder and harder and harder…. fnarrrr .
