I’ve just texted my mum to ask why, on the morning of my wedding, she didn’t advise me to drill a hole in a wooden bridge and put my penis in it. No reply from her as yet.
This is the morning after I was lucky enough to be at the world premiere of Marina Abramović’s Balkan Erotic Epic at Aviva Studios in Manchester. It is said of Ms Abramović, formidable as ever at 78, that she is the “grandmother of performance art”. Addressing us beforehand, visibly nervous, she spoke of this work as perhaps her most ambitious, her magnum opus. In the programme she writes: “This gives me the chance to go back to my Slavic roots and culture, look back to ancient rituals and deal with sexuality, in relation to the universe and the unanswered questions of our existence.” Having Slavic roots myself, I wasn’t going to miss this one. And fully acknowledging – as a friend of mine from Stourbridge would put it – that what I know about performance art and a five-pound note wouldn’t get my hair cut, here is my review.
