Matthew Krouse live art
People who undertake the lofty task of elevating theatre to the status of “live art” must spend a lot of time cooking up unusual things to do instead of just acting out a character stuck in a plot.
As a discipline, live art has more to do with witnessing invention than with going through the motions of falling apart with someone you don’t really know. What makes Graeme Feltham’s current performance, done under the name Lung Scratch Hum, interesting is that you have to fall apart with him while he makes a somewhat crude attempt at invention.
At the top of the photocopied flyer for the show are two mug shots, one of Feltham above the caption “breathe in” and another of his dead friend Mark Elliot with the caption “breathe out”, and beneath this: “foronlytenbuckscomeandseewhymyfriendod’dandmaybegetasniff”.
In summary, Feltham has concocted his show as a tribute to Elliot, who did too much of something, wiping himself out earlier this year. And so the performance is up front and personal. It makes for a lasting sense of discomfort, and that is the intention. At the start Feltham shows us a video clip of his late friend wearing smudged white and blue make-up, looking like shit.
It must have been taken on a day when Elliot appeared in an outdoor performance with a troupe he once belonged to who did hippy fire-throwing stuff in public.
In the video Elliot is extolling the virtues of “the carnival”, rounding off with: “The carnival is very tiring but well worth it.” I’d say Elliot is referring to the carnival as metaphor for two things life and taking drugs.
The irony is probably in Feltham’s questioning of whether the carnival is actually worth it. This is done through the use of Elliot’s monologue as a digital soundloop, forming the basis of the hour or so of backing for the performance. It’s an act of defilement and defacing. Feltham breaks toys, chucks fake blood at projections of his dead buddy’s face, shoots toy arrows at his friend, lights firecrackers, burns brown paper (could this be a metaphor for chasing heroin?), rants, raves and writhes on the floor.
Meanwhile, in the background Feltham’s amazing music bellows on.
A couple of months ago, when he appeared with his accordion at Fashion Week at the Sandton Convention centre, providing the soundtrack to Clive Rundle’s collection, I began to suspect Feltham is an incredibly interesting musician.
After hearing Hummerphone, his recent CD, my suspicions have been confirmed. His music seems inspired by Eighties groups like Kraftwerk and Throbbing Gristle it’s mournful, lyrical and full of muted suffering.
In the case of his current live performance, he’s appearing with another talented reprobate, the musician Dax, who plays his guitar in starling contrast to the overall violent tone of the show like Pat Metheny taking a bath.
Generally, Lung Scratch Hum (if that’s actually the show’s name) is full of contradiction; is coarse and pissed off. While the anger is understandable one cannot but wonder whether a more tempered approach to the performance aspect might not have served Feltham’s music better.
It could be that it’s too early for the artist to launch such a tribute to the memory of the one he’s lost. Perhaps I’m just old fashioned, unprepared to accept the exposure of the raw nerves needed to comment on the futility of a life lost in this way.
Every Sunday this month at Gallery 111, Roberts Avenue, Kensington, at 7.30pm. Tel: 082 330 3383