For a months-long MoMA exhibit, artist Marina Abramović is sitting for seven or more hours a day as visitors are invited to face her, in silence,for as long as they wish. Kottke describes a Flickr gallery of hundreds of portraits:
The photographs are mesmerizing...face after face of intense concentration. A few of the participants even appear to be crying (this person and this one too) and several show up multiple times (the fellow pictured abovesat across from Abramović at least half-a-dozen times). The photos areannotated with the duration of each seating. Most stay only a fewminutes but this woman sat there for six and a half hours.
In between each of these sitters, Abramović looked down and closed hereyes, resetting her gaze and gathering energy. When she looked upagain, sitting opposite her was none other than Ulay [her ex-boyfriend and collaborator of many years]. A rapturoussilence descended on the atrium. Abramović immediately dissolved intotears, and for the first few seconds had trouble meeting Ulay's calmgaze. She turned from superhero to little girl – smiling meekly;painfully vulnerable. When they did finally lock eyes, tears streakeddown Abramović's cheeks; after a few minutes, she violated theconditions of her own performance and reached across the table to takehis hands. It was a moving reconciliation scene – as Abramović, ofcourse, was well aware.
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