perf art

Went last night in Colombo to a 'performance art' session, where mediocre artists 'performed' mediocre poetry. It was one hour of my life that I would never get back. Needlessly theatrical, completely unsubtle, without any substance or depth, it was the kind of thing that would never make it past an audition for anything elsewhere. It was also sad because this 'represented' homegrown Sri Lankan talent. I have nothing against the people behind the production, but there is so much that is rich and original to exploit in both Sinhala and Tamil literature, and instead, this derivative, derisive free-verse bathetic performance was held up as an example of 'local' art. One can be anglicized, anglophonic even, but unlike India, Sri Lanka has very few authors writing in the English language about Sri Lanka. Sigh. One piece in particular was aggressively sexual, which again, is fine if it is meant to promote the virtues of sexual choice in a repressive society, but this was pointlessly sexual. Given the proliferation of issues in Sri Lanka today, ethnicity, religion, conflict, the tension between modernization and the nostalgia for a rural past, there was enough to be inspired by, or construct art around. Instead, this , which represents the avant-garde movement in Sri Lanka, was what we got, gibberish about midnight blue versaces and tits and adultery. Utter tripe. And yes, I am angry and not objective. I'm angry because there is enough to dramatize, to highlight, to generate social awareness about. I'm also glad because I realized again, where my identity fell, that though I was diaspora, English-educated, I could not identify with this so-called social elite that I was a part of.