My official website is a dead zombie duck wandering the internet wasteland looking for brains and finding none, especially on facebook. This blog was started as a random drawing/story project about proto feminist zombies...er yeh seemed like a good idea at the time. Now it is just a blog about my art in general with the occasional feminist zombie thrown in
Friday, 8 March 2013
The audience included budding art students hoping to glean a little of that art magic that separates the genius from the mediocre, to art critics writing reviews for art magazines and journals. Also in the audience were a few famous faces but, from movie stars to musicians to humble normal folk, all were united by a common goal, to simply sit with the artist and stare upon her face and see.....nothing less than the meaning of it all.
Unknown to the audience the reason for her late arrival to the performance was because Mariam was quite sick. Her entourage of gallerists, sales people, advisers, make up and costume people were aware that she wasn't well but, as far as they knew it was nothing more than a bad cold. Mariam however knew it wasn't just the flu or even a fever, while out the night before she had been approached by a strange man. Thinking he was a fan of some of her previous work and going to rain praise upon her she let him get closer. By the time she realised he was a blood thirsty zombie out to eat her brains it was too late, he grabbed out and tore at her clothes. His nails raked across her back as she turned to run, she let out a painful scream and managed to pull away. She ran to her front door and was able to get inside and slam it shut before he tore her to pieces. Shook up to say the least, she dragged herself up the flights of stairs to her lavish apartment. Fumbling with her keys she let herself in and headed straight for the bathroom. Taking off the bloodied clothes she surveyed her back in the mirror, twisting her thin frame and craning her neck to see four large scratches running down her spine. Small drops of blood dripped down her legs and pooled about her feet, she shook her head. The sight of blood wasn't unusual to her, she had been involved in many performances that were very physical in their nature and had often shed blood in the name of art. This was different though, this was much much more exciting! After taking a quick shower she took a seat and opened a very good bottle of red wine and picked up the phone to dial her art dealer. Before entering the last number she paused a moment, still holding the phone to her ear she sat and stared blankly at the wall. Why should I tell anyone? she thought. This is just for me, my secret, my pure and heightened moment of real life, it would cheapen it to spread it around like so much gossip. Putting the phone back she took a large gulp of her blood red wine and smiled serenely to herself, she is the great Mariam Marv Cioban, she will control this and use it within her performance, she will unleash this feeling to her adoring fans and let them feel truly alive...
...Sitting in a back room of the gallery Mariam was sweating and shaking, she felt hyper aware of certain sounds around her, the beating of her gallerists heart was overwhelming. She felt thirst beyond what she had ever known, she could taste blood. Two gallery assistants came into the room and asked her if she would be well enough to perform, Mariam stared through them, got to her feet and made her way out to the performance space to raptures of applause from the audience.
Sitting there staring at the public she knew this was her ultimate artistic statement, she felt so alive, she felt visceral, animal and unhinged. Because of her salivating, heavy breathing and her wild eyed stare people weren't sitting and staring at her for as long as in previous performances. Instead they were moving along very quickly indeed, usually crying and scared s***less as they were helped away. This only added to the crowds excitement. After about an hour it all got too much, Mariam jumped up out her seat suddenly and screamed a blood curdling roar and vomited six pints of blood onto the small mousy art student who unluckily happened to be sat across from her at that moment. Mariam dove headlong onto the art student who was still sat motionless and overjoyed to be covered in the famous Mariam Marv Cioban's puke, she sunk her teeth deep into the students neck and ripped out a huge chunk of gore. Turning wild eyed toward the art critic Walczak Jared Zusman she spat the piece of neck into his face. He screamed with delight at this thinking it was all part of the performance and scribbled a few sychophantic notes in his book. Unfortunately he was too busy looking down at his notes to notice Mariam stalking towards him, just as he looked up she pounced on him and began dry humping him while smashing his head into the concrete floor. People were beginning to suspect that something wasn't quite right, but such is the nature of art these days that anything that happens in an art gallery must surely be art right? So surely Mariam Marv Cioban tearing into the audience is art? This is art.......right? It wasn't until Mariam had disemboweled fourteen more audience members that people started to realise that no, in fact this isn't art at all, this is just absolute bloody murder. They panicked and screamed and stampeded for the exits. Yet more people were injured in the panic running for the doors, hammered and pushed to the floor by the tsunami of bodies, the weaker ones were crushed to death. Mariam ran wildly through the crowd, like a wild lion hunting a herd of dumb beasts. It was an absolute murder hole of carnage.
Meanwhile the people in the mezzanine stood and stared on, still questioning what it was they were witnessing, most of them convincing themselves that this was truly a life affirming piece of pure art, Mariam Marv Cioban's finest and most powerful piece on the frailty of the human condition yet, a true testament to her artistic powers.