The Bomb Party, or What Goes Up
Grayson Alabiso-Cahill
Curated by Veronika Ivanova
January 11 — February 9, 2018
Grayson Alabiso-Cahill
Curated by Veronika Ivanova
January 11 — February 9, 2018
As an introduction to the basic premise of this work (a link between aesthetics and war) Fireworks/Bombs draws visual similarities to the explosions of fireworks and the explosions of missiles. It operates like an artist statement, articulating a base assertion: war has been aestheticized to the point of emptiness.
In works like ROMANCANDLEARMS.MP4 and Still From a Lockheed Martin Promotional Video, there is an interrogation of the relationship between the poor image and Umberto Eco’s "ur-fascism," addressing how aesthetics are used to militarize the banal. ROMANCANDLEARMS.MP4 points to the pervasiveness of the fetishization of war, suggesting a link between fireworks and “ur-fascism” by emphasizing the reperformance and recuperation of war and nationalism in civilian life. "Still From a Lockheed Martin Promotional Video" addresses similar aesthetic mechanisms in promotional videos produced by Lockheed Martin. This work makes literal the ways that our lives have been militarized by tangibly manifesting images of war as an aesthetic system that occupies every facet of our realities: the photograph reads more easily as a still from a video game or Marvel film than it does as an advertisement.
Looking at farce and rhetoric, A List of Bombs in The American Arsenal suggests that the nicknames of bombs are used to hide that they are weapons. Alabiso-Cahill asserts that these rhetorical strategies aim to turn a body count into a laugh track. Both this work and A Gift For My Collectors usurp the tapestry as a site for the construction of history. A Gift For My Collectors, through its material history, addresses the role between war, privilege, and the construction of narrative.
The Bomb Party also featured an open edition of clay multiples that mimic dynamite. These operate as props meant to alienate and intimidate an audience, responding to the “theatre of war” by turning the gallery into the Brechtian (or Jonesian) version of military warehouses. It engages with pop-cultural depictions of explosives and uses of irony and farce as aesthetic devices. The sticks of dynamite literally frame the gallery, performing a threat to implicit structures in artistic institutions. At the same time, they suggest the futility and frustrations of critiques within these sites. This work, similar to Still From a Lockheed Martin Promotional Video also presents an alternative to the capitalist art-object in it’s form. Both works are made from industrial materials, and distributed freely.
Grayson Alabiso-Cahill (b. 1996) is an artist and writer living and working in Toronto. "The Bomb Party, or What Goes Up" explored the relationship between farce and spectacle. By elucidating the parallels between the spectacle of fine art and the aestheticization of war, the installation questions the complicity of collector, artist, audience and institution in the production and perpetuation of capitalist ideologies. By exploring the ways in which war is depicted, disseminated, and aestheticized, the exhibition articulated a resistance to the spectacles of military and capitalist art-making.
SCENE 1
We see three young people with crewcuts standing on the stage. They are dressed in what appear to be poorly made, human-sized recreations of common fireworks. It should look as if they are wearing oversized toilet-paper rolls that were painted by children. This play is set in a field, but it should be a shoddy facsimile. Maybe one or two squares of fake dollar store grass, and then one or two plastic flowers. It takes place at dusk, and the entire theatre should be foggy.
The first man, Henry, is our protagonist. He looks clearly worried. He’s skinnier then the other two, who fill the role of “jock” quite well. They seem to be unable to breathe with their mouths shut. The director should feel free to cast whomever they want in these roles; if they can find their highschool bully to perform it as an act of catharsis or as some Sisyphean punishment that’s a positive.
The pauses in the play should take up most of its time. This play should be infuriating to watch. It should, under no circumstances, be performed.
The curtain rises and Henry is fidgeting with the fuse coming out of the bottom of his costume. He has a clear tendency towards the melodramatic. In more intense situations he would be called a coward. Each line should be delivered like the beginning of a high-school student’s soliloquy, speaking as if he is constantly on the verge of holding up a skull and delivering one of Shakespeare’s less interesting passages. As the play goes on, we should hear his voice break more and more often.
HENRY
Fuck this I can’t fucking believe we’re actually doing this shit. I can’t believe I fucking signed up.
He pauses here and crosses the stage. The lights should dim, as if in preparation for a epiphanic moment.
I mean, I guess I had no real option, that this is pretty much the only thing I’m here for.
Henry really starts to get into the swing of his soliloquy at this point, we should hear each word as if it were spoken with a capital. It should be insufferable.
I Remember Vividly The Crisp April Day Wherein I Was First Brought By My Dearest Family Unto -
The men beside him start roughing around, clearly excited
HENRY
Hey, assholes! Fucking calm down.
BRET
Fuck you Henry, you should have quit when the sarge made you cry during basic.
Henry flinches, and turns his back
The light here should transition onto the other two men, and they should speak like they know they’re being watched. They should feel free to stare back at the audience. They should speak slowly.
Bret turns to Sean.
BRET
What a fucking asshole. Nerd loser.
The second part of this line should be shouted back towards Henry, and then he should wink at the person who looks most likely to say that in real life.
SEAN
Yeah, I can’t believe they even let him show up today. What a joke. I mean, he’s just going to fucking embarrass us.
BRET
Yeah no shit.
They pause, waiting. This pause could take the majority of the play. Sean and Bret can sometimes mutter to each other. Henry should at some points try to take center stage as if to deliver a speech, but get pushed back by the other two.
SCENE 2
Eventually, we hear footsteps, and a MAN enters. He is dressed like a stage-hand, in all black. He is around 40, but could be younger or older, we’re not totally sure. When he speaks he addresses the audience, and he cannot hear any of the other performers.
MAN
(Hums quietly to himself, maybe Mozart, maybe Bach, something that makes him feel sophisticated, but makes everyone else think he’s an asshole)
HENRY
Oh Mine Dear God, This Here Man Doth Suppose He Can Meander Through Our Rows Like A Poor Widow Searching The Graves At Flanders, Humming Morosely To Himself! Who Art Thou Who So Cruelly Mocks My Final Moments!
The man first picks up Bret, then Sean, and places them side by side. Once they are put down they cannot move. He walks over towards Henry, and repeats the process. The three are now in a line.
BRET
Sir! I am deeply honoured to be alongside you today! Sir!
The man ignores him, and continues to hum. Maybe he looks at his phone, or maybe he reads a book. Something by Brecht would be good, but if it exists, a catalogue of paintings by Bush would be perfect.
The next lines should be whispered, and filled with fear.
SEAN
Dude, so
BRET
Yeah hey
SEAN
Like, this is it hey
Henry, overhearing this, has tuned back into reality. He leans over towards Sean, and delivers the next line with something between panic and anger.
HENRY
Fucking idiot, what the fuck did you expect? What did you think all those lessons about how noble and powerful and amazing bees are was about? We’re the same fucking tragic idiots, meant to do one fucking thing and then eat shit and die -
SEAN
Shut the fuck up Henry, what the fuck do you know
At this point, Bret pisses himself. This should be stupid and obviously a gag, but one that is treated with sincere solemnity by the other actors. The audience will likely be confused by this. That is okay.
Nobody moves for around ten minutes. Henry pisses himself too, more casually. We can tell he has experience with it.
SCENE 3
Nothing has changed, all the actors are still stuck in one place and mostly covered in piss.
We start to hear hollers and whistles, and something that sounds vaguely like a national anthem. The closer this sounds to a sports arena or a very hollywood introduction to a battleground the better
HENRY
Listen to that! It Is Clear Our Time Has Come! Like The Most Fragile Of Flowers In The Brutish Frost Of Late October We Can Sense Our End Is Near! Oh God! How Much I Have Yet To Have Done, How Little Life I Have Lived!
The man puts aways his book and walks over with a match. He lights Sean’s fuse. There is a small explosion, and Sean runs as fast as he can out of the theatre.
This process repeats itself with both other actors.
The man reads this next part like a eulogy.
MAN
On this day, the noble 4th of July, in the year of our lord 2016, we watched row upon row of just, daring, and proud fireworks perform for our great nation. I would like to thank, personally, Lockheed Martin for their undying and profound support of this performance, and for their unequivocally just actions as a corporation.
WHAT GOES UP, GRAYSON ALABISO-CAHILL
We see three young people with crewcuts standing on the stage. They are dressed in what appear to be poorly made, human-sized recreations of common fireworks. It should look as if they are wearing oversized toilet-paper rolls that were painted by children. This play is set in a field, but it should be a shoddy facsimile. Maybe one or two squares of fake dollar store grass, and then one or two plastic flowers. It takes place at dusk, and the entire theatre should be foggy.
The first man, Henry, is our protagonist. He looks clearly worried. He’s skinnier then the other two, who fill the role of “jock” quite well. They seem to be unable to breathe with their mouths shut. The director should feel free to cast whomever they want in these roles; if they can find their highschool bully to perform it as an act of catharsis or as some Sisyphean punishment that’s a positive.
The pauses in the play should take up most of its time. This play should be infuriating to watch. It should, under no circumstances, be performed.
The curtain rises and Henry is fidgeting with the fuse coming out of the bottom of his costume. He has a clear tendency towards the melodramatic. In more intense situations he would be called a coward. Each line should be delivered like the beginning of a high-school student’s soliloquy, speaking as if he is constantly on the verge of holding up a skull and delivering one of Shakespeare’s less interesting passages. As the play goes on, we should hear his voice break more and more often.
HENRY
Fuck this I can’t fucking believe we’re actually doing this shit. I can’t believe I fucking signed up.
He pauses here and crosses the stage. The lights should dim, as if in preparation for a epiphanic moment.
I mean, I guess I had no real option, that this is pretty much the only thing I’m here for.
Henry really starts to get into the swing of his soliloquy at this point, we should hear each word as if it were spoken with a capital. It should be insufferable.
I Remember Vividly The Crisp April Day Wherein I Was First Brought By My Dearest Family Unto -
The men beside him start roughing around, clearly excited
HENRY
Hey, assholes! Fucking calm down.
BRET
Fuck you Henry, you should have quit when the sarge made you cry during basic.
Henry flinches, and turns his back
The light here should transition onto the other two men, and they should speak like they know they’re being watched. They should feel free to stare back at the audience. They should speak slowly.
Bret turns to Sean.
BRET
What a fucking asshole. Nerd loser.
The second part of this line should be shouted back towards Henry, and then he should wink at the person who looks most likely to say that in real life.
SEAN
Yeah, I can’t believe they even let him show up today. What a joke. I mean, he’s just going to fucking embarrass us.
BRET
Yeah no shit.
They pause, waiting. This pause could take the majority of the play. Sean and Bret can sometimes mutter to each other. Henry should at some points try to take center stage as if to deliver a speech, but get pushed back by the other two.
SCENE 2
Eventually, we hear footsteps, and a MAN enters. He is dressed like a stage-hand, in all black. He is around 40, but could be younger or older, we’re not totally sure. When he speaks he addresses the audience, and he cannot hear any of the other performers.
MAN
(Hums quietly to himself, maybe Mozart, maybe Bach, something that makes him feel sophisticated, but makes everyone else think he’s an asshole)
HENRY
Oh Mine Dear God, This Here Man Doth Suppose He Can Meander Through Our Rows Like A Poor Widow Searching The Graves At Flanders, Humming Morosely To Himself! Who Art Thou Who So Cruelly Mocks My Final Moments!
The man first picks up Bret, then Sean, and places them side by side. Once they are put down they cannot move. He walks over towards Henry, and repeats the process. The three are now in a line.
BRET
Sir! I am deeply honoured to be alongside you today! Sir!
The man ignores him, and continues to hum. Maybe he looks at his phone, or maybe he reads a book. Something by Brecht would be good, but if it exists, a catalogue of paintings by Bush would be perfect.
The next lines should be whispered, and filled with fear.
SEAN
Dude, so
BRET
Yeah hey
SEAN
Like, this is it hey
Henry, overhearing this, has tuned back into reality. He leans over towards Sean, and delivers the next line with something between panic and anger.
HENRY
Fucking idiot, what the fuck did you expect? What did you think all those lessons about how noble and powerful and amazing bees are was about? We’re the same fucking tragic idiots, meant to do one fucking thing and then eat shit and die -
SEAN
Shut the fuck up Henry, what the fuck do you know
At this point, Bret pisses himself. This should be stupid and obviously a gag, but one that is treated with sincere solemnity by the other actors. The audience will likely be confused by this. That is okay.
Nobody moves for around ten minutes. Henry pisses himself too, more casually. We can tell he has experience with it.
SCENE 3
Nothing has changed, all the actors are still stuck in one place and mostly covered in piss.
We start to hear hollers and whistles, and something that sounds vaguely like a national anthem. The closer this sounds to a sports arena or a very hollywood introduction to a battleground the better
HENRY
Listen to that! It Is Clear Our Time Has Come! Like The Most Fragile Of Flowers In The Brutish Frost Of Late October We Can Sense Our End Is Near! Oh God! How Much I Have Yet To Have Done, How Little Life I Have Lived!
The man puts aways his book and walks over with a match. He lights Sean’s fuse. There is a small explosion, and Sean runs as fast as he can out of the theatre.
This process repeats itself with both other actors.
The man reads this next part like a eulogy.
MAN
On this day, the noble 4th of July, in the year of our lord 2016, we watched row upon row of just, daring, and proud fireworks perform for our great nation. I would like to thank, personally, Lockheed Martin for their undying and profound support of this performance, and for their unequivocally just actions as a corporation.
WHAT GOES UP, GRAYSON ALABISO-CAHILL