Masochist Flanagan endures
pain for the artistic pleasure
By Nisha Gopalan
"Sewn up and nailed to a two-by-four," reads the caption written
by performance artist Bob Flanagan for a 1989 "Auto-erotic SM"
performance.
The picture above the caption reveals Flanagan, from waist-down,
with a sewn-up penis (folded in half with the skin under brought up
over the penis and sewn together), which he just nailed to a block
of wood.
Flanagan represents a prominent figure in the world of
performance artists, more specifically, artists who self-mutilate
in their performances. The content of his performances have drawn
attention to the malleability of performance art’s boundaries.
"Symbolic test of endurance" would most accurately describe his
art, says Flanagan, best known for his virtually unseen (acting)
performance in writer/director Jonathan Reiss’ "Happiness In
Slavery" video for Nine Inch Nails.
And endure he does. Forty-four year old Flanagan, every day,
confronts his cystic fibrosis (CF)–a genetic disease that causes
the excessive production of mucus and whose victims seldom endure
into adulthood.
"I sort of outwit it (CF)," says Flanagan who, without
hesitation, deems his performances empowering. "I put humor to it.
I talk about it. I take it out. People who have a disease often
keep it quiet. I make a big show out of it, and that way I have
control over it."
Flanagan describes the ultimate defeat of his disease: "I want
to turn my own death into art … I want to be buried with a video
camera so that people could view me after I was dead inside the
coffin."
This former Groundlings (LA comedy group) member and
self-proclaimed masochist uses his performances as a means of
pleasure to counter the pains of his illness. While growing up,
Flanagan found that sadomasochistic (SM) inflictions proved
"erotic," in sharp contrast to the "annoying" physical pains
associated with his CF.
In "Bob Flanagan’s Sick" (1991), a caped and clothespinned
Flanagan emulates Superman, or rather a supermasochist, wearing
leather underwear and having weights attached to his nipple while
chained to a video scaffold holding seven video screens arranged in
an "x" formation. As Flanagan recites his poetry, the pun contained
within the title becomes more obvious–a combination of his
reaction to social accusations that his said abnormal sexual
activities classify him as mentally ill as well as the
acknowledgment of his physical illness.
The video portion of "Bob Flanagan’s Sick," although
interspersed with clips of cartoons, depicts scenes of various
parts of Flanagan’s body subjected to different tortures. In one
scene, the audience sees Flanagan with his mouth sewn up,
literally, alluding to the profound voice of masochism.
A graduate literature major of Cal State Long Beach, Flanagan
gained notoriety as a published poet and artist. With much input
from Sheree Rose, Flanagan’s lifetime companion and creative
partner, Flanagan developed a style of performance which
incorporates poetry, improvisational speaking and audio snippets
with visual art. He includes images of pop culture, as well as
videos and photographs taken by Rose.
"To me it’s very much like writing. It’s just that it’s visual
… it’s just not enough to go up there and be self-absorbed and
self-obsessive. I have to be entertaining to the audience and be
moving in one way or another."
His connection to the audience becomes a crucial element to his
shows. "I want their response," he says. "I answer their questions.
It’s very informal in many respects." Flanagan, somewhat of a
humanist in mentality, does not perceive his audiences as sadistic,
but rather empathetic.
Flanagan’s embrace of masochism certainly challenges
Judeo-Christian notions of the sacredness of the body. The
performances "attack systems that want to control other people’s
bodies," says Flanagan.
"The paradox of what I do with masochism is to raise the self
up, literally, in some ways. A lot of times I have full body
suspensions in my work where I’m lifted off the ground."
During "Visiting Hours" (1992) Flanagan and Rose created, in the
Santa Monica Museum of Art, a simulation of a pediatric ward,
complete with waiting room. Wearing a hospital gown, Flanagan lay
in a hospital bed from which he would later ascend, by means of a
rope tied around his ankles being pulled upward.
And there the naked man hung, suspended from the ceiling,
upside-down, as if an inverted Christ on an invisible cross.
Beneath him, children’s alphabet blocks repeatedly spelled "CF" and
"SM," and others featuring drawings of butt plugs, whips, chains,
scalpels, syringes and dominatrix gear. The alphabet blocks formed
a 4-foot by 8-foot wall. In the waiting room, the text to
Flanagan’s poem, "Why," spiraled around the room.
Ultimately, Flanagan’s performance art confronts one’s
preconceptions of what art should constitute. It, too, addresses
the fundamental inquiry of what fuels human existence. While his
approach to art is hardly conventional, the fact that he
successfully, not to mention, boldly, challenges the art world with
his style, deserves notice.
Says Flanagan, "How we survive is an issue worth looking
at."