keyon gaskin defies you to defy them
It is a warehouse;
its dirty, smelling like tuna fish, stale bear and sweat. There is a bar for
drinks, an undefined “stage”, some lights set up almost haphazardly, a
makeshift sound system that awkwardly blasts sound, echoing off the walls of
the unconventionally chosen performance space. A set of bleachers stand
centered to the “stage”; a few long benches and a small variety of chairs
surround them. Not enough for the 200 plus crowd to sit on.
The audience has
just finished taking in one set, and gaskin’s performance has begun; many have
not realized yet.
A voice rips
through the air like thunder. Where is it coming from? Some people get curious
and seek it out, others continue chatting about, whatever. Some sit in
reverence, understanding, the performance has begun. The voice comes down and
the words are almost inaudible, you cannot quite understand, but as the volume lowers
they begin to take form.
Eventually you
hear, clearly: “CAN YOU SHUT. THE. F***. UP!?” which snaps all eyes and ears to
attention and a hush falls over the building. That voice was Godlike:
commanding and defiant. gaskin is on the second floor of the building
overlooking a fixated audience. They can be heard, but not always seen.
It is important to
note gaskin’s work cannot be contained in a box, nor will I attempt to place
them into one.
What proceeds is
an artistic statement “This is a
performance, this is for you, you are a community, you are my material, this is
a prison, leave when you want.” Over, and over, and over gaskin repeats
this, changing intonation, emphasizing different words, making different
commentary with each retelling of the lines “This is a performance, this is for you, you are a community, you are my
material, this is a prison, leave when you want.” Their intent is present.
gaskin is coming
down, but the crowd gasps as they decide that they are walking across a rusty
beam about a foot and a half wide, in six (or more) inch spike heels. They are
dressed in shiny grey basketball shorts, a grey t-shirt, and of course, the
heels. They continue moving along the beam, cautiously, but with an air of
nonchalantly knowing exactly the impact of their choices and movement on the
fixated audience. They reach a point where a pulley chain is attached to the
beam, and descend among the standing audience, crowded around like a hoard of
zombies in a Walking Dead episode.
Begin, the
defiance.
gaskin claims
space in a way I have never experienced before. In a white-centered room, that
easily has 10+ euro-descended people to one person of colour, gaskin
manipulates all the bodies around him with firm gestures. With a flicking of
the wrist, it is understood: “You better git out mah way!” with the entire
attitude to accompany it. They remove anyone sitting on the bleachers with a
hand wave causing concerto maestros to beam with pride.
A stunning amount
tension-force is applied to the bleachers as we watch in wonder how this
person, wearing six-inch high heels, drags, single-handedly the entire bleacher
forward about three or four feet. IN. SIX. INCH. HIGH. HEELS. This is where
things become interesting, any and all people of colour; Afro-descended, Asian,
South-Asian, Latino/a/x, Indigenous, and anyone in between were the ones
instructed to go and sit on the bleachers. All of us complied willingly.
This took up much
of gaskin’s time, as finding the people of colour in the crowd was no easy
task. It is noteworthy that gaskin does everything with consent, verbal or
non-verbal. Never touching anyone but always being firm and assertive, kind of
the way Cesar Millan tells us we must be with dogs. The cries of some
euro-descended people protesting, “this is not fair” were met with a disgusted
hand wave and a “mmh mmh!” which clearly meant, “MOVE!”
Photo Courtesy of: Viva! Art Action by Paul Litherland |
As a person of
colour observing this performance, gaskin, an Afro-descended American human, is
making very poignant statements. None of what they are doing is haphazard or
random. Each gesture, command, every look, the music they play, are deliberate
statements. The euro-descended people were theirs to manipulate, or be
consensually manipulated by. The POCs were witnesses on a stand to observe a
performance that puts white supremacy on trial.
No
cross-examination allowed.
Photo Courtesy of: Viva! Art Action by Paul Litherland |
You must
experience this for yourself.
keyon gaskin
defies you to defy them. Because they are telling the truth, and if you can’t
handle it, refer to their artistic statement at the beginning of the piece:
This is a performance,
This is for you,
You are a community,
You are my material,
This is a prison,
Leave when you want.
Thank you for reading.
See you on the other side.
--
Kym Dominique-Ferguson
The Jamhaitianadian