Glug, Glug, Glug questions societal discomfort with grief and sadness.

DETAILS

Glug, Glug, Glug by Robin Arsenault
EPCOR CENTRE for the Performing Arts
Friday, October 9 - Sunday, November 15

More in: Visual Arts

The first Christmas after my dad died, I was shopping with my partner when we ran into an acquaintance. I broke the sanctum of idle Christmas chit-chat by telling her that I had recently lost my father and that the holidays were difficult. My boyfriend later chided me. “Why did you tell her that? Didn’t you see how uncomfortable it made her?” Our society had taught him, and was teaching me, that vulnerability and so-called negative emotions are not to be shared publicly.

Calgary artist Robin Arseneault disagrees. In Glug, Glug, Glug, an installation at the Epcor Centre’s Ledge Gallery, Arseneault exhibits the social awkwardness surrounding the expression of emotions that are considered private. Glug, Glug, Glug is an onomatopoeia for the sound of drowning — in this case, in sorrow. Arseneault challenges the discomfort associated with witnessing public displays of grief by exploring the relationship between audience and performer in staged demonstrations of sadness. Arseneault says her art is “defined by performer and the audience.” She creates an environment where audience reaction can become social commentary or an opportunity for self-reflection.

Five times a week, one of four performers is engulfed in a paper structure that resembles something between a domed wave and a science fair, papier-mâché volcano. The actors sit in a glass-enclosed room with only their heads visible as they cry, whimper and sob for two-hour shifts. The installation can only be seen from the top of the centre court stairway and the hallway leading toward the Plus-15, but it can be heard throughout the first floor mezzanine, creating two unique experiences.

Ironically, the weeping is often more affecting in isolation than when coupled with the visible aspects of the installation. The soft-sobbing soundtrack encourages an emotional reaction from the audience largely because it is devoid of context, creating a sense of mystery. It is difficult to discern whether or not the sound is sincere or performed. The audience is thus uncertain of its role; are they spectators or active participants in real events?

When the piece is viewed as well as heard, the actors and audience are able to see and acknowledge each other in an obviously designed environment. Reinforced by the theatricality of Arseneault’s arts-and-crafts esthetic and the project’s location in a performing arts centre, the audience maintains a safe distance from the performer through humour and their own awareness of themselves as spectators.

Although the audience may come across the piece accidentally, they are aware that they are viewing a construction manufactured for their benefit. Some display mild shock and surprise, many others look perplexed and hurry by, while others laugh. Many people are simply unaware of how they should interact. Such is the case with public grief — people find themselves at a loss for an appropriate reaction. We have expectations that public spectacles should be positive, or at least socially comfortable, while difficult emotions like grief are labelled negative and therefore they are expected to be buried beneath a brave, amiable surface. Arseneault instead celebrates awkwardness, using the actors’ sobbing performances to create a spectacle that must be addressed.

The handmade quality of the installation is consistent with Arseneault’s body of work, which regularly transforms a given environment through sculpture, sound, drawing and text into a performative space meant to highlight audience reaction. Her stylistic tone introduces a child-like innocence and accessibility to the piece, but for this particular project, I found the esthetic somewhat diluted the potential emotional effectiveness of the actors’ mourning. However, what the visual elements do create is an opportunity outside of raw sentiment for analytic thought and self-examination. The visual cues suggest playful inquiry giving room for respite, while the actors’ performance inspires empathy. The realism of the sound aspect is in contrast to the visual elements, but together they have the potential to create a space for understanding, reflection and communication.

I applaud Arseneault’s efforts to establish an open dialogue with our unhappy emotions. While some may say that displaying pain or sorrow is an instance of misery seeking company, I have experienced that expressing these emotions fosters empathy and healing. When I speak to people about losing my father, even strangers, I don’t want it to be awkward; burying my memories of him along with my grief would be far more of a tragedy than his death. Unlike our culture, Arseneault does not ask us to hide our sadness and remorse. Instead, she asks why we feel the need to hide our feelings.