Performance artist Karen Finley`s latest work, ”We Keep Our Victims Ready,” is aptly titled-she has found out a lot about victimization recently. In June she became one of four victims of the new policies on obscenity at the National Endowment for the Arts. Despite previous support, this year the endowment refused to give her a grant to finance future work.
Finley-who was born and raised in Chicago-also has been a frequent victim of the press. Just before the NEA decision, conservative columnists Evans and Novak of the New York Post wrote her off as a ”nude, chocolate-smeared young woman,” implying that to fund her work would be flying in the face of decency and public opinion-not, by the way, that they had ever seen her perform.
Perhaps it`s not surprising then that Karen Finley has written off most of the press; she has taken to hanging up on reporters unless they happen to have a master`s degree in performance art themselves. For the record, here is our interview (which was arranged through the cooperation of those closest to her), in its entirety:
Finley: ”Do you have a background in performance art?”
Reporter: ”No, I write profiles.”
Finley: ”Profiles of performance artists?”
Reporter: ”Not specifically . . . But I saw you perform last week . . . Let me ask you about the NEA decision.”
Finley: ”I don`t want to talk about the NEA at all.”
(Brief pause)
Reporter: ”Well, maybe we can talk about how it might affect your future work.”
Finley: ”It`s too early to say. I`m still in the middle of it.”
Reporter: ”OK then, let`s just talk about your work. Do you enjoy it?”
Finley: ”I don`t think I want to continue this interview, OK? Thanks. Good-bye.”
Bzzzzzzz.
Finley`s agent tried to pick up the pieces. Full of explanations about artistic temperament and tired performers, she insisted that her client didn`t mean to be rude. Apparently, Finley can hardly open her mouth without offending somebody.
Pressure, as well as fame, has been thrust upon Finley during the months since the NEA`s decision. She`s playing to packed houses, putting in extra performances and receiving news media coverage and popular scrutiny like never before. Thanks to the NEA, she should never need to apply for an NEA grant again-if she plays her cards right. There are ways of coping with the news media.
Most artists dream about this kind of exposure. Of course, not all the publicity is going to be positive and it`s not all going go be informed, but in the long run, can it really do any harm? Finley thinks it can.
”When these columnists dismiss me,” she said recently in the magazine Backstage, ”It proves what my performance is talking about. . . . The woman is being dismissed as hysterical. I`m not looked at as someone who could be talented and professional and speaking for a voice in America. Instead, I`m ridiculed, laughed at and considered a mistake.”
If that`s the fate of women, it`s the common fate of artists, too, and although the recent fame has brought her, she says, a ”horrible
responsibility,” it could also be seen as a rare chance to preach to the unconverted. Thanks in part to previous NEA funding, she already has achieved recognition in her own field.
This unintentional NEA boost means that her audience is going to contain more than a few curious observers who have little knowledge of her art, and maybe even less of her message, an opportunity to blast them with both. After all, no one can see her perform without at least reviewing his or her political and artistic values.
In a performance in Boston recently, Finley shuffled on stage wearing a shabby dress and scruffy red leather boots. She sat in a rocking chair and began messing with the props and chatting to the audience as if they were all sitting comfortably in her living room. The friendly chat over, Finley launched energetically into her monologue. Through different characterizations she chanted and cried in a diatribe against society, the abuse of women, prejudice, victimization.
It`s powerful, passionate stuff. About one-third of the way through the show comes the much-maligned moment that the curious may have come for, as she quietly removes her dress and pours Jell-o into her bra. In passing, she torches a cake decorated with little American flags.
A few minutes later she removes the bra and smears herself with chocolate frosting. She sprinkles red candies on top, adds a ”few billion” bean sprouts ”symbolizing sperm,” and ends up with a layer of Christmas tree tinsel so that the overall effect is of a shimmering evening dress.
In full regalia, she launches into the second act, a recitation of ”We Keep Our Victims Ready,” which compares discrimination against homosexuals, minorities and women to the policies employed in Nazi Germany. ”In principle, we`re not very different! It`s just that our ovens are at a different speed. We keep our victims ready,” she screams.
The audience is impressed-although when they laugh out of place, Finley drops out of her trance-like state and snaps, ”That isn`t funny. I`ll read that again.” This time there`s a respectful silence-but who`s at fault:
artist or audience? Perhaps they don`t know enough about performance art.
Finley`s final act is a recitation of her poem, ”The Black Sheep,” in which she creates a persona like herself:
”We always speak our mind;
”Appreciate differences in culture
”believe in sexual preference
”believe in no racism
”no sexism
”no religionism-
”and we`ll fight for what we believe.”
This is her battle cry.
Finley ends her show in tears and exits much as she enters, with a self-deprecating shuffle. Some of the audience is in tears, too.
”Nothing anyone said could have prepared me for that,” one woman in the audience muttered. They are awed, not shocked.
Is this art? Since we`ve disagreed on that definition for at least 5,000 years, let`s leave it a moot point, only re-iterating that the NEA had funded Finley on many past occasions and that in turning her down, the endowment ignored the unanimous recommendations of its own theater panel.
Is this obscenity? Well, it`s not the sort of place you`d take Sen. Jesse Helms for an evening out, and some might be offended by a semi-naked woman on stage, but many of today`s movies offer far worse under a PG label.
Personally, I found her work far less offensive than those sickening TV commercials by defense contractors that claim to bring good things to life or by major chemical producers that swear they`re out to save our environment. While I wouldn`t rave about Finley-some of the poetry degenerated into evangelism, and many of her political targets were sitting ducks-there`s one thing she is and that`s honest.
If honesty offends America`s policy makers, Finley is not to blame. The NEA, let`s admit it, has its own political problems, and now Finley has hers. Let`s hope they both overcome their internal pressures. For Finley, the end of the ”Black Sheep” poem seems particularly applicable right now:
”I am at my loneliest when I have something to celebrate and try to share it with those I love but who don`t love me back. There`s always silence at the end of the phone.”
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Performance artist Karen Finley is appearing in ”We Keep Our Victims Ready” at the Beacon Street Gallery and Theatre, 4520 N. Beacon St., Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights at 8 p.m. through Oct. 28. Cost $12. 1-312-561-3500. An exhibit of her paintings, drawings and sculptures is featured in the gallery through Nov. 24.
