November 23, 1983
By Mary Beth Bruno
Face it. In the next year we are going to be barraged by articles, segments on TV magazine shows, lectures and discussions about how the real 1984 measures up, or down, to what George Orwell described 34 years ago in his novel 1984. Before you get sick of it all, take a look at the 1984 Big Brother calendar. Now on Sale at Atticus, Foundry, and other local bookstores. It's a serious look at "240 not-so-great moments in American history marking government intrusion into our lives," or so the package says.
It's not, however, as dreary as it could be. As journalist Nat Hentoff points out in his introduction to the calendar, the very fact that such a calendar exists proves that we still live in a relatively free society.
1984 began early in New Haven when 700 people waited in the cold to weeks ago to see a multi-media art show based on the themes of Orwell's novel. Sponsored by the Papier Mache Video Institute, the show was held in a large industrial loft off Hamilton Street. By most accounts, it was a smashing success. It certainly wasn't just another white wine and cheese affair...
Immediately upon entering the exhibition space-after the fire marshal finally deemed enough bodies had left to make room for more- a muddle of noises, colors and motions bombarded the sense. In one corner, two dancers shrouded in blue gauze were swaying to melodious cords inside a blue gauze cage. The cage was like a giant baby's playpen, and in their institutional blue swaddle cloth, the dancers represented innocence in a trance-moving but unable to live within their confined world.
In another corner, a lighted fountain gurgled atop Beverly Rithie's [sic] military wedding cake. The two story confection was iced with green-on-chocolate camouflage frosting and decorating with fallen plastic soldiers, silver candy bullets and mine fields.
Grouped together in another wing of the loft were several of the shows most successful installations, including Andrea Rossi's grouping of stuffed, white corpse-like figures, captioned "They used to be us." Near by was Phillip Chamber's small but stunning sculpture of tiny figures walking en masse. At first glance, they looked like something along the lines of a medieval beggars' procession. But after closer examination, trappings of times present, and future become apparent, and the pieces' connection to the shows theme become clear.
Almost directly above the tiny figures, three Walkman sets of earphones hung at head level from the ceiling. Passers-by were invited to stop and listen to Tyranny in the Scrapyard: 1984 in Music, Words, and Noise. The sounds were created by Roberta Chambers; the installation by John Trainor.
Perhaps the most popular work in the show was Haircut'84, a performance piece by Boston-based artist Tim Conant and R.J. Doughtey. It consisted of two New Waved Costumed figures singing their way through a haircut. The cutter snipped and primped, while the customer hammered out a comical, but a philosophical rap tune, repeatedly returning to the refrain:
Haircut '84
Everybody hit the floor
Dance, dance, dance, dance in your pants
Take a chance.
Slapped onto walls all around the room, tying the various works together were big brother's favorite slogans: "Ignorance is strength," "Freedom is slavery," "War is peace," Art in the shadow of double speak: it worked.
Now that the show is over, the Papier Mache Institute is working on it's next project: finishing their incorporation papers so they can gain non-profit status. A lot of time is also being spent dealing with calls from people who now want to know how they can become involved with PMVI "New Haven didn't know were were around before," Co-director Ritchie [sic] muses, and now even the Arts Council wants to see what they can do to help.
Transience becoming established on the New Haven arts scene? Come on folk, take a chance.
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