Naama Tsabar – Stranger (2017)

Naama Tsabar – Stranger (2017)

For one day only this rarely screened video work by internationally exhibited performance and installation artist Naama Tsabar will screen at KinoSaito continuously throughout the day.

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TEXT BY JESSICA LANAY MOORE

The only delineation of space in Stranger (2017) [PG.TK–TK] is the vertical orientation of Naama Tsabar’s body in a cyc, a white seamless stage space. She negotiates wires with her feet, spinning and dipping against the weight of a heavy silver instrument comprising two electric guitars attached back to back and sharing a body. She plays the outward-facing side, while banging the inward face against her body, producing a melodic growl. Kristin Mueller soon enters. She yieldingly adjusts the amp and then meets Tsabar; they both take a moment to adjust either the volume or the tone. Seemingly in agreeance, they bow their heads trustingly into each other’s shoulders and necks. Their joining is as cataclysmic as it is erotic, honest as it is rough, vulnerable as it is painful. Both are dressed in some variation of black boots, black pants, and a white shirt, and as the uncanny electric sound opens its jaws, the bodies bend and contort, at times appearing conjoined. The performance produces a music as dissonant as it is beautiful: a transparency that unplugs the ego. In the end Mueller holds the guitar alone, and after Tsabar squeezes the double necks to tinge the sound, she walks away and cuts the power to the amp. A touch of cruelty: A communication desisted: Consummation, perhaps.