Candice Breitz’ work, while definitely not purely novelty, has always been refreshing for its pure entertainment value. So often in contemporary American culture, artists strive to be artistic, to say something powerful through abstract means. Breitz has never fallen prey to this form of existential expression that requires a phD in literary criticism to decipher. She has always been an artist in and of her times, using digital technologies to make social comment on the celebrity hype cycle that pervades pop culture, and addressing issues to which even the average Joe B.A. can relate.
The South African born artist (37) is most widely known for her installation pieces. There is something hugely entertaining and bizarrely resonant about putting thirty Italians in front of a camera (one at a time) and having them sing Madonna’s ‘The Immaculate Conception’ from start to finish, then juxtaposing them on one screen as a kind of quasi choir. She does the same sort of think with Michael Jackson and Bob Marley, exploring concepts of myth and exposition surrounding the idea of celebrity, engaging with the idea that the interpretations of a celebrity reinvent the celebrity, creating an idea of the person that has no basis in truth.
Blatantly this kind of humor infused glib social criticism appeals to high class, mohawk-sporting Brooklynite fipsters (fake hipsters) as there were a swarm of them milling around outside the Abrons arts center trying to be Vanessa Abrams on the night of Breitz’ first ever live performance. “New York, New York, which featured two nearly-identical casts composed of four pairs of identical twins—with each pair of twins split into two groups of four actors each—presenting two evenings of improvised performance. The performances were based on intensive “character development sessions” that Breitz conducted with each set of twins to develop a single character that both will play, although in separate casts and improvisations. Moving the probing of sameness and difference that has been central to Breitz’s video-based work (most recently in “Factum,” a series of double-portraits of twins) into the space of live performance, “New York, New York” brings her interest in what she has called ‘the scripted life’ together with an ongoing reflection on the fragile condition of individuality.
The premise was exciting. Further study on the nature of individuality, this time not focused on celebrity but on identical twins. Haven’t we as humans always been somewhat fascinated by the nature of the relationship of twins, and more specifically, identical twins? From freak shows to general fascination, we all just can’t get enough of the spectacle. Dr. Nancy L. Segal, a professor of psychology at California State University, suggests that ‘we live in a world that appreciates and expects individual differences in appearance and in behavior. So when we encounter two highly matched individuals, this experience challenges our beliefs about the way that the world works. The likenesses of identical twins trigger a variety of reactions, both positive and negative, yet everyone is drawn in. Some people may even feel jealous of the social closeness most identical twins experience and celebrate’
Such a rich topic for Breitz to take on and yet the result is limp and enormously disappointing. The first part of the performance was a video of the twins in interview, one pair at a time. They talk about their so-called lives to the camera, developing the persona they will take on. They speak self-consciously finding humor in the exercise. It’s amusing but only vaguely so and drags. The second part of the show is surprising in its ineptitude to entertain or inform the audience. One from each set of twins come on stage. The whole point is for them to be together on stage, acting out their persona in one room, interacting and conversing. The result is truly pathetic- a weird version of improv freeze tag as performed by a bunch of kids at an Idaho drama camp. The artificiality is not off-putting (I’m guessing it’s kind of the aim) so much as the deathly boredom. Audience members begin to glance at each other as if to ask ‘is this as shit as I think it is?’ This fipsters like it thought, they think they’re supposed to.
The most entertaining thing to happen in act one was the arrival of the pizza boy- not because his presence was anything notable, merely because he broke up the monotony of mindless improvised chatter. I still can’t fathom some of that Breitz was responsible for this piece and am baffled by some of her choices. I hope that she’s not finished with the subject matter- it’s great stuff- and decides to explore it in a more coherent way.