© Marina Abramović
Marina Abramović at the Royal Academy of Arts
From 23 September 2023 – 1 January 2024 , The Royal Academy of Arts presented the first major solo survey in the UK of the work of internationally acclaimed Serbian performance artist and Honorary Royal Academician, Marina Abramović.
In a career that spans over five decades, Marina has propelled performance art from its experimental beginnings to the mainstream. The exhibition, arranged in close collaboration with the artist, provides an overview of her extraordinary practice with photographs, videos, objects and installations. It features four of Marina’s iconic performance pieces, which are reperformed by performance artists live in the galleries.
Below, volunteer writer Roxanne describes her encounter with this striking exhibition.
AAA-AAA by Ulay and Marina Abramovic: at the RA 2023
Ulay and Marina scream at each other. Yell. Yelling into each other’s faces. Ulay is crying. He falters occasionally; Marina is a constant force, little emotion showing on her face.
The instant I came face-to-face with the video (playing on a double-sided screen which formed a wall in the centre of the room), I burst into tears. I often cry during or after an exhibition, indeed I had already cried while watching footage of The Artist is Present, but this took me by surprise. There was no build up. It was instantaneous the moment I saw Ulay’s tears. I revisited the room later – I had to. I was so emotionally drawn to that room, even before I encountered AAA-AAA.
After I left the second time, pushing myself through those naked strangers which performed Inponderabilia, I found myself in new rooms, new light, new energies. I stood upon White Dragon, 1989, a sculpture of oxidised copper and obsidian affixed to the wall. I faced outwards into the room. I felt no embarrassment. I felt peace; I felt safety. I felt alone, and yet connected with the other visitors – part of humanity and all its goodness. I felt comforted. I also felt like electricity was surging through my legs.
I left the sculpture and passed through into the next room, a room of photographs that didn’t interest me much just then. In fact, I don’t recall what they were of at all, any of them. I stood in front of one picture and began to shake violently all over. My body felt as if I were sobbing, but no tears came.
It was so intense. I wanted to get out of there, and stay forever, equally. I have never been affected so deeply by art. I feel overwhelmed, still, hours later.
By Roxanne Di Giovanni
