Warning: This article contains discussion of physical violence and sexual assault which may be distressing for some readers.
Throughout her career, Marina Abramović has consistently challenged the boundaries of performance art, often putting herself at great risk for her work over the past fifty years.
One of her most renowned and perilous performances was Rhythm 0. In this piece, she stood in an art gallery in Naples, surrounded by 72 objects. The audience was invited to interact with her using these objects, ranging from benign choices like feathers and grapes to more dangerous items such as scissors, a scalpel, and even a gun with a single bullet. Abramović took ‘full responsibility’ for anything that might occur during the six-hour performance.
Recently, during an episode of the Louis Theroux Podcast, Abramović revealed she approached the performance ‘ready to die.’ However, it was the audience’s reaction—culminating in a moment where a gun was pointed at her head—that left a lasting impression on her.
At just 23 years old, Abramović was driven by a deep frustration about public perceptions of performance art, feeling compelled to ‘give my life for an idea.’ Discussing the 1974 event on the podcast, she mentioned that the audience’s extreme reactions occurred without her taking any action, with some individuals even appearing ready to commit murder.
“The gallery said six hours is over, I start walking towards [the] public, I was naked, I was covered in blood, I was in a terrible state, someone cut my neck and all the rest of it.”
After enduring six hours of various abuses, including having her clothes removed, being cut, and having blood consumed from her body, the audience dispersed rather than applaud.
Instead of staying, the crowd fled from the woman who had remained motionless for hours while they inflicted harm, even engaging in acts of sexual assault.
“And then I was walking to them, and they all ran away,” she recounted to Theroux, describing the moment she regained her autonomy.
Despite Abramović’s portrayal of the audience as hostile, there were individuals within the crowd who took on a protective role, intending to prevent the situation from becoming lethal.
The American art critic Thomas McEvilley, who attended the performance, noted that Abramović’s surrender of her autonomy revealed significant insights into the audience’s mindset.
He observed, “Faced with her abdication of will, with its implied collapse of human psychology, a protective group began to define itself in the audience.”
“When a loaded gun was thrust to Marina’s head and her own finger was being worked around the trigger, a fight broke out between the audience factions.”
Following this defining moment in her career, Abramović chose not to replicate such dangerous performances, establishing strict rules against touching and talking during her 2010 piece, The Artist is Present, in New York.