Marina Abramović: The Artist Is Present

Without doubt, Marina Abramović's 736-hour performance piece at MoMA was a defining moment for the artist. In some ways, it was for New York as well. There was palpable Abramović fever here. Some people even slept on the sidewalk for the privilege of sitting across from her during her epic, silent vigil, surrendering wholly to the stasis she demanded of them. But a funny thing happened on the way to the documentary film circuit. While the HBO film of this 2010 performance does in fact paint a picture of a ground-breaking visionary with a practice steeped in social criticism, it also offers personal glimpses that seem to reposition the self-denial intrinsic to the artist's work. References to the violence of human boundaries take a back seat to the lifetime of anxious self-doubt we are witnessing. And her stinging commentary on gender is contradicted by back-to-back archival footage that leaves behind the whiff of cosmetic surgery. The film practically undercuts its own beatific dénouement. What remains undiminished, however, is her tearful audience, staring silently into her eyes. And in slowing our heartbeats down, the artist and the filmmakers do manage to show us what they themselves were discovering. We know we all share a need to feel heard. It turns out we may need to be seen as well.