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The Buffalo News
SCULPTURE AS STAGE
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The bearded, long-haired Von Voetsch -- looking every bit
the primal hunter-gatherer in loincloth and leather sack -- repeatedly
climbed upward from this lower room, through concealed passages, entering the
parlor at the second floor level through a hole in the floor. Once in this dim, brown-hued room, he poked through breaks in the
wallpaper and methodically removed congealed fat hidden within the walls,
packing it into his satchel and exiting again to the cave below. There, Von Voetsch transferred the orange greasy matter (reportedly movie
popcorn oil) into numerous pod-shaped fiberglass pouches attached to a
macabre costume hanging center stage from an iron armature. The presence of
this strap-on canvas suit, with its organic pods and grommet-adorned hood,
charged the scene with sadomasochistic undertones. The ambiguity of Von Voetsch's actions was enhanced by a video projection
at the entrance to the installation of a man reading at a desk to the
accompaniment of ambient electronic sound. Later, from vantage points in a
tight pathway along the sides of the lower level of the installation, the man
himself is discovered, half-visible in a space just below the parlor floor. The event underscored the distinction between performance art and
conventional theater by the demand that the audience move between the two
levels of the darkened gallery to see the action. The constant movement
prompted a relaxed social atmosphere in which the audience mingled, freely
exchanging observations. With the artist isolated behind glass, the audience seemed to sometimes
respond as if it were viewing an insentient sculpture. Someone openly admired
Von Voetsch's biceps, another his codpiece. One man spontaneously sang the
theme song from "The Flintstones," while his female companion
elbowed his side. When word spread that a picture of an overweight youth
above the fireplace was the artist himself, the fat suit began to take on
allusions of self-flagellation. Despite the artists' written statements about loneliness and isolation,
the focus was more on penance, atonement and the sting of public scrutiny.
Behind the installation an inconspicuously placed ant farm kit supplied the
essential metaphor. Like insects toiling within their transparent container,
Von Voetsch traversed his enclosure seemingly oblivious to the watching
public. It seemed a cathartic ritual designed to exorcise personal demons. As the ending time approached, audience anticipation mounted and a crowd
gathered on the lower floor. The reading man appeared in shirt and tie and
gas mask to strap Von Voetsch into the fat-laden suit. When the artist began
tunneling through a pile of loose soil in front of a small plexiglass
enclosure that cut through one side of the structure, much of the audience
crammed into the narrow corridor and waited. Von Voetsch emerged slowly into
this showcase box and stood, slightly bent -- a museum exhibit. Eventually -- perhaps out of compassion for a hunched man wearing a
150-pound-plus suit -- someone clapped, ending the performance with
widespread applause.
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