We are now on day eight of Marina Abramović’s 512 Hours, an art project which will last just over two months:
Creating the simplest of environments in the Gallery spaces, Abramović’s only materials will be herself, the audience and a selection of props that she may or may not use. On arrival, visitors will both literally and metaphorically leave their baggage behind in order to enter the exhibition: bags, jackets, electronic equipment, watches and cameras may not accompany them.
Most of us won’t make it to London to see this, and that’s fine: We have something better! The daily video diaries, which Abramović delivers straight into the camera with the severity of a Marina Abramović, the lidded weariness of a Marina Abramović, and the boundless endurance of a Marina Abramović. They’re fantastic—sometimes she sounds like an artist in her element, other times like a peeved teacher whose students wouldn’t listen all afternoon—and you can watch them all here.
How did yesterday go, for example, in the big gallery full of nervous humans?
The line of people is there already formed. And then, they’re coming in, and it’s always so cold in the morning, and their hands are so freezing, and they’re kind of shy, and they don’t know what they’re expecting inside. And the mornings are so short, and somehow, fast. But then the day rolls, and eight hours—when it’s finished, fifteen to six, I’m standing at the door, and now it’s the time for goodbyes. And these goodbyes are so wonderful; their hands so warm, and they’re looking straight in your eyes. And they’re shiny.
Enjoy your new summer morning ritual.