Chris Burden's Stunts

I spent three and a half hours at the New Museum to study the art of Chris Burden, best known for his series of life-threatening performance art between 1971 and 1977, which included, most notoriously, Shoot, in which he had his arm shot with a rifle and Trans-Fixed for which he lay on the back of a VW Beetle with nails hammered into his hands. 

These works survive only on film or video accompanied by the artist’s own comments. Watching them and listening to his words made me wonder about the nature of the performance art in general and as practiced, in particular, by Burden.  Performance implies spectators for whom the act is performed; this is true as well of art at large inasmuch as an artist makes something in part for his own satisfaction but also with  potential viewers in mind for whom the work is meant to be displayed. 

So, what effect did Burden have in mind to make on his spectators in his performing art?  His explanations, enunciated in retrospect, perhaps inevitably say more about his own experience in doing them than their effect on others. Still, we can assume that self-expression was his primary motivation of these works, and he presumed that his anxiety and fear and high emotion in the daring acts would automatically rub off on the spectators.  They certainly do.  Shock is indeed what we take away from watching his acts whether in person or on film; and shock is the aesthetic effect we enjoy in the daring circus acts like those on the high wire.  It is drama of intense emotion inherent in any daring action, as Eisenstein understood it.  But Burden’s acts fell short of circus acts; these displayed extraordinary refinement achieved by rigorous training. 

It is curious that, among his later works, massive pieces like Porsche with Meteorite, Big Wheel and the bridges demonstrate the law of equilibrium in striking contrast to the performance works that by pushing the physical capacity of the artist to the outer limits communicated a dangerous suspension.  Or else, as in Tale of Two Cities and All the Submarines, beautiful as it is visually, these toyland works, if political in intent, are so literal and explicit and embarrassingly superficial.  They may have gained in physical weight or visual intricacy but lost whatever power, superficial as it was, in his performance art.