By the time you read this, I hopefully won’t still be suffering from the after-effects of P.S. 122’s holiday bash. Maybe I’ll even have regained my hearing.
The good folks at P.S. (in particular the divine Carleigh Welsh) kindly allowed the P. Club to crash their notorious annual party for our December event. It was wonderful to see so many of you there; those of you who didn’t make it perhaps won’t be surprised to hear that we didn’t spend much time on in-depth discussions.
Some of us were reminiscing over the year last night: our impromptu Michael Jackson dance party at the NuMu the day he died, our underground adventure in the Atlantic Avenue tunnel, debating the great dance critic Edwin Denby on the Highline... the list goes on. I was blown away by our first-ever private event at the Baryshnikov Arts Center, where we packed a studio for an OtherShore showing of a new Annie-B Parson work, and had the best post-performance discussion (real ideas!) I’ve ever attended. It gets better: our online debates over the contemporary performance world’s economic woes even helped to spark a think tank.
I’m grateful to you all for making the Performance Club such a vibrant, challenging affair. Criticism can be a lonely endeavor, or at least an isolating one. I had hoped, in starting this club last December, to create a democratic space where people with no background in art, or lots of background, or anything in between could come together and feast on ideas, offer different perspectives and argue over what they saw and how it made them feel without there being any right or wrong answers.
Live art can’t be tucked away in museum storage units. It exists in a much messier, more exciting realm –our minds. Here’s to 2010!