Photo Julie Clarke (c) 2022
The most interesting aspect of Stelarc’s Stick-man performance at RMIT Gallery was his larger than life shadow akin to those deployed in the German Expressionist horror films Nosferatu (1922) and The Golem (1920). Forget for a moment that Stelarc was coupled with a partial exoskeleton that moved his limbs in particular ways to suggest that he was enmeshed with a controlling and confining technological construct and we are left with the shadow. An all encompassing other worldly being upon which we project our deepest primal fears about things out of control. The shadow is always ominous and in this case more so because it is not just the shadow of Stelarc’s body creating it, but a combination of the exoskeleton with his body that creates the monster that forewarns of the dangerous cyborg. The programmed but irrational mind, the anima/female side of the male. A powerful psychic force that cannot be denied or ignored. But here the morphology of the shadow is neither gender. It overpowers Stelarc’s real body, the virtual video image as well as mini-stick-man that for all purposes appears to be the controller.
On that note apart from the variations, replications and repetitions of Stelarc’s movements, evident in some of his past performances it was his voguing that set up an intrigue. In most instances when his movements stopped he looked up in a fixed stare. His body still. The whole pose creating sold lines, symmetry and sharp angles. I recall the way that models posed for photographs in Vogue magazine and the house dance adopted by gay and drag genres in the 80s that mirrored and exaggerated their stance providing rigid movements coupled with clicks of their arm and leg joints. A different kind of gender as performance.
Thank you Julie. So much you have drawn from the performance. The writing has magnified my appreciation of the image of the performance. I did not see the performance. A great record. Lauren
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