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Surface Rupture: Body, Place, and Persistence
in Rotem Balvaâs New Work
Text
/ Michelle White
Rotem Balva used Rolling,
a video installation she premiered at the Herzliya Museum of
Contemporary Art in Israel in 2002, to introduce me to her work.
Variously positioned on the floor around the empty museum,
cameras captured the artist as she propelled herself around the
institution by doing somersaults. The artwork was then
reinstalled on the walls, and she replaced the cameras with
monitors presenting the haunting document of her nauseating, yet
gracefully athletic, circling of the empty space. While doing
somersaults is essentially childâs play, Balvaâs performance was
so strenuous that she practiced weeks in advance of her feat. To
underscore the taskâs arduousness, sound sporadically erupts in
the space, invading it with sudden moments of heavy breath, the
rustle of clothing, and the strangely rhythmic beat of flesh and
bones slapping the concrete ground at each rotation.
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Rotem Balva,
still from
Rolling, 2002, video, color (all images courtesy of the
artist) |
Since the 1980s, artists
have represented the bodyâs relationship to subjectivity as a
patchwork of socially and culturally inherited stuff. This is
the legacy of the theatrical masquerades of Cindy Sherman or
Yasumasa Morimura. Even 1990s abjection÷when artists like Paul
McCarthy and Janine Antoni were taking the bodyâs messy
byproducts to explore even more of its extraneous shells÷was
based on the assumption that there was nothing underneath the
masks and waste. If the body is merely discursive, it is indeed
the ideal surface on which to prove that certain social
categories÷like race or gender÷are totally artificial.
Well-rehearsed, this formula is now dour. It also fails to
account for the fact that identity is still contingent on
biology. Balva pursues this thorny question by trying to find
the uncomfortable moments when social barriers begin to
dissolve.
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Rotem Balva,
still from
Rolling, 2002, video, color |
In Balva's video,
performance, and installation-based practice, the bodyâs
persistence÷its insistent breathing presence÷collides with the
corporal apathy of postmodern identity politics. Balva amplifies
her discomfort and makes it viscerally resonant in Rolling
by asking us to reconcile play with the fetal gesture of pain
and protection. She also shows how hard it is for the body to
break through discourse, how vulnerable it becomes when it
refuses to be only a simple linguistic vehicle. Is the body
locked, she asks, in a predictable and self-perpetrating
representational loop? Referring to her decision to do
somersaults, for instance, she said she was compelled by the
challenge to find a way to represent a situation when the body,
and by extension identity, reaches a raw and unmediated
connection to a specific space. Then, she believes, the body
becomes impervious to the history and politics of projected
meaning, and free to define its own subjectivity. The artist
describes this as an incredible and primal ãmoment when the body
is naked, when culture canât get in.ä1
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Rotem Balva,
stills from
Rolling, 2002, video, color |
In Balvaâs past work, play
has been an important theme because it showcases susceptibility.
Enthusiastically citing Dutch theorist Johan Huizingaâs 1938
study on the cultural criticality of competitive play and its
essential psychic import, Balva believes that sports reveal
situations when instinct violently kicks in and disrupts the
ritualistic, or choreographed, layers of existence.2
In 2001 at Le Quartier, a contemporary art center in Quimper,
France, Balva hit a tennis ball against a metal etching plate
that she covered with black printing wax and used as an
improvisational backboard. The ball became greasier after each
point of contact. Bouncing back and forth, it also produced a
random constellation of impressions. The work was a visual
record of the artistâs intuitive responses that disrupted both
the gameâs well-established performance vocabulary and the
traditional artistic process of printmaking.
The two-channel video
installation Op-Allah, 2003, provides another example of
Balvaâs preoccupation with competition. Here, she focuses on the
particularly seductive moment when, at the end of a point,
grunting fencers peel off their mask and shout ãOp-Allah.ä This
traditional cry of triumph, borrowed from the French, pierces
fencingâs uniformed civility and technique. Balva's installation
juxtaposes this gleeful
moment of victory with quiet shots taken from the window of her
temporary studio in an industrial neighborhood on the outskirts
of Jerusalem where she briefly lived. As time passes from day to
night across Jewish and Arab neighborhoods, carried forth by the
soft murmur of a Muslim mosque calling prayer and the cityâs
ambient noises, the competitorsâ disruptive, deep-felt sounds
punctuate the landscape, illustrating the profoundly visceral
effect of cultural and socio-political location. Balva recalls
that, seeping into her work space at this specific time in her
life, these acoustic sensations demanded such profound physical
adjustments that they made her realize that ãhow and where you
are becomes a part of you.ä
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Rotem Balva,
Rear Reverse
Parking,
2006, 3:48 min video, installation view at Ha'kibbutz Israeli
Art Gallery (photo: Ariel Yannay-Shani) |
The videos Sand Fight,
2006, and Rear Reverse Parking, 2006, were shown together
in Layover, her exhibition at the Ha'kibbutz
Israeli Art Gallery in Tel Aviv this past spring. This new work
pursues Balva's yearning to find meaning in corporal connection
by exploring the bodyâs negotiation of material resistance. In
Rear Reverse Parking, the artist uses the car and driver
as a metaphor for this resistance. The piece opens with an
aerial view of a car circling a roundabout. Then its driver
suddenly pitches the small vehicle in reverse, aiming at a
narrow space between two parked cars.
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Rotem Balva,
stills
from Rear Reverse Parking, 2006, video, 3:48 minutes,
color |
Close-ups of the driver÷her
face in the rear-view mirror batting her eyelash, her foot on
the clutch÷intercut with views of the scene. The video jumps
from an individual body's performance to crunching metal and
screeching bumpers as the protagonist violently, but
confidently, forces her car into the crevice. Her mission
completed, she kicks out the shattered front window, jumps out,
slightly adjusts herself, and calmly walks away. We never find
out why she would want to go to such effort to park there in the
first place. As such, the absence of clues negates the
performance's bravado. Here, while the struggle to fit seems
meaningless, it once again frames exclusion as a relationship.
Balvaâs practice constantly breaks and embraces this struggle
between inside and outside, which pins the primal self against
social restraints.
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Rotem Balva,
Sand Fight,
2006, 3:48 min video, installation view at Ha'kibbutz Israeli
Art Gallery (photo: Ariel Yannay-Shani) |
This struggle to connect
and the quest for relationship also characterize Sand Fight,
which was projected life-size in the gallery. Almost mythic, the
work opposes an army of three women, whose stature is not unlike
the artistâs very commanding appearance, to a group of children
in a playground. While these fighters do throw fistfuls of sand
with genuine determination and strain, the effect is futile. As
soon as it is thrown, the sand dissipates like smoke.
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Rotem Balva,
stills from Sand Fight, 2006, video, 1:32
minutes, color |
It melds beautifully with
the womenâs sunlit hair and casts a dreamy haze, transforming
the battle into a superfluous, if strenuous, dance of passionate
aggression. Turning their back to oncoming sand showers and
shutting their eyes for protection, the actors' corporeal
instinct further counters the aggression. Like the car metal,
sand is a substance that makes it hard to get the job done.
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Rotem Balva,
Stone,
2006, installation view at Ha'kibbutz Israeli Art Gallery
(photo: Ariel Yannay-Shani) |
The installation further
integrates this material friction by demonstrating how space and
material can dramatically work together to undermine the
efficacy of physical action. Between the two videos, a carved
Styrofoam stone sits ominously, filling the gallery from floor
to ceiling. Despite its lightweight artificiality, the white
stone's gigantism triggers an acute bodily awareness. The
stone's strong aesthetic impression, the artist hoped, would
linger on in the viewersâ minds as they view the videos.
Balva's work often
references endeavors trapped in a cycle÷sport's primal instinct,
abstract battle lines, and the futile failure of strife. This
is, of course, not without political and geographical
specificity. Nor does the artist fail to acknowledge, albeit
hesitantly, that these concerns shade her identity as an Israeli
artist. Yet, her investigation of the border
between interiority and exteriority, by way of the bodyâs
ongoing struggle to interact with material and architectural
space, is also profoundly borderless. Having recently moved to
New York City, Balva often mentions in conversation that she is
trying to find a center. Today, political and cultural
certainties are inherently tenuous, if not altogether
impossible. Simultaneously, much contemporary art is critically
disengaged. Nevertheless, Balva is determined to represent the
arduous negotiation of a balanced position and the struggle to
connect by breaking the proverbial cycles of routine÷however
difficult. In this context, her work is nothing if not
courageous, urgent, and timely.
NOTES
1. Unless otherwise noted,
all quotes are from Balvaâs conversation with the author in
the artistâs Brooklyn studio, December 8 and 9, 2006.
2. See Johan Huizinga,
Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play Element in Culture,
Boston: Beacon Press [1938], 1955.
Michelle White is
Curatorial Assistant at The Menil Collection, Houston. She is a
regional editor for
Artlies, The Texas Journal of Contemporary Art. Her column
ãSublime Anachronisms: Hilary Wilderâs Contemporary Landscapesä
was published in ART PAPERS 30:6 (November/December
2006). |
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