number thirty nine: Cold to dull the pain/heat To relax it away

Katya Grokhovsky, Stand like a Woman, New Blood Festival IV, SAIC, Chicago, 2010
photo Andrew Green

Time. Large Yellow ceramic mug..I heart NY. Red heart.
WE are always wanting more. More. Nothing satisfies. We live in public.
Text message. one. another. who are you?
wooden angel. On its swing. made in Italy. 1950s?
woman woman woman. Man.
Let me recover. muscles hurting. one by one. massage. long hot shower. pomegranate body scrub.
Vitas. 1980s Soviet music. let me introduce you to love.
Slavery. Love slavery.
I remember you. Unless otherwise stated . She cares little. Thank you.
For freedom
sky
sweet potato pie.
its a rhyme. family....
small house criticisms. toys. glittered. made in Western Germany. no longer exists.
small mirror disco ball. polystyrene. covered in small pieces of mirror. sleepprettyinpink ear plugs. hot pink. Dolce and Gabanna.. The one.CVS vanishing sent sore muscle rub.
no mess pain reliving gel.
cool to dull the pain
heat to relax it away

In God we trust
Devchonochka....

Please forgive it all
I dance non-stop to your Reflex
Dance it
Creeping through the trust
Trust
Instruction to obey

I will never obey.
I will run.

Book 1 of Absurd Instructions For your Pleasure:
Dilute a bottle of Stolichnaya vodka with a large bottle of pomegranate juice. Drink. Dance.
Opera 1.

Gadalka. Give your hand to me, I will read it and translate your life to you.
See this? You won't make it.

Dance. The gypsy dance. Big skirts, long skirts. Colors: corals, pastels. Home Depot, paint colors. Match the paint to fabric.

Listening to older Russian pop...memories..pain emotions...loneliness.

Let me Thank you:

For : a place to love. food to eat. Air to breathe. Friends to spend a day chatting with into the cold of the frozen Chicago night. Ice.
kitchen. near a warm oven with The Bird. turkey leftovers.
Thanksgiving to you.

Let me make a twirl and look into your eyes.
romanticism all the way. Pushing pushing...

nude? with those?
watching watching. let me undress and see . would you like to see me naked? why yes?

no work about capitalism.
Russian men die young from alcoholism.
women are stronger.
women in heels.

Perhaps Moscow is calling...
Running in high heels in glamorous races
looking for the man
looking for status money
bags full of money
groceries
soup for Andy
bags
let me stand here and think it over

endure IT
since birth.
the birth
the first intercourse
insults
objectification for all of us.
suffer and suffer. Pain you do Like.

do not raise the voice.

number thirty eight: STAND Llike A WOMAN, DANCE like A MAN (UKRAINIAN)

Stills from Youtube: Woman - Glamour Race- Women racing in high heels, Moscow, 2008

Man - Ukrainian Traditional Dance, Hopak.

Stand Like A woman was performed on Sat, 20th November, 6.30-9.30pm, at SAIC, Chicago.

Following that, Dance like a man, was performed on Sunday 21st, 6.45pm-9.30pm, SAIC, Chicago

So you think you can stand like a woman and dance like a man ?

Title: Stand like a woman

Concept:

Growing up in Ukraine, watching my mother wear stiletto heels everyday to work, riding for hours on packed old buses and walking miles of cobbled city streets, whilst carrying heavy groceries in homemade shopping bags. I was amazed at the simultaneous strength, endurance and fragility of the situation and her compliance with it. In Stand like a Woman, I am utilizing an action of standing still, wearing very high stiletto heels and elegant classic feminine attire whilst holding a long metal tube on my shoulders with two heavy, loaded plastic grocery bags positioned symmetrically on it. The bags hang on either side of the tube and are full of cans of Campbell soup. Referencing the never-ending battle of masculine and feminine in life and art, testing endurance, appearance and exhausting the body and mental limits of a feminine structure.

Title: Dance Like A Man (Ukrainian)

Concept:

Growing up in Ukraine, dancing the national Ukrainian dance Hopak moving ever so slightly inside a semi-circle of girls, formed at the back to allow for the boy dancers to take centre stage, I wowed to: Dance like a Man. One day. One by one the boys performed their exciting strenuous routines in front of us, as I watched spitefully. In this performance, I propose to Dance the Male solo part of the Ukrainian Folk Dance, dressed in a traditional male costume. The dance will be performed repeatedly for 2 hours to the same recording of the Hopak, gradually exhausting the body and loosing the grip on choreographed movement, appearance and traditional gender prescriptions.

So on Sunday, transformed, half of my head asymmetrically shaved to mimic a Ukrainian old-fashioned male haircut somewhat, dressed in a Ukrainian traditional male costume of: an embroidered men's shirt, embroidered sash, very wide blue satin pants and comfortable red boots, I danced Hopak, repeatedly and exhaustively. A looped projection behind me of a short clip of female dancers, dressed in National costume also, softly and gently swaying.

No, I didn't fall apart. I felt empowered and somehow-protected. Yes, I am a woman, feeling, as I danced, my breasts' gravity, supported by heavy- duty sports bra, moving up and down. Normally, I would be aware and yes, embarrassed. I couldn't care less. I sweated and wiped my sweat on my sleeves. Sleeves of my authentic Ukrainian- imported bought in New York shirt. I didn't care. The white cotton had no stains. I had absolutely no make up on. Fresh faced and sweaty, I faced the spotlights each time the looped music came on. My gestures gradually became more proud and exaggerated. Instead of disintegrating my movement became learned. I understood very quickly I will yes, get tired and sore, but my choreography will not skip a beat. I became stronger somehow in spirit and one thought kept flying through my head, this is hard and exciting, and yes, I want to be a boy!

The woman on the other hand, on the previous night, disintegrated fast. Yes, yet, she held it to the end. I was extremely aware of how SHE looked and what the audience was thinking of my body, my heavily made up face, my new red dress with no bra, the shape of my nipples showing through. My shoulders and arm and muscles exposed , how do they look? Do I have cellulite under this harsh spotlight? What is the spotlight doing to my face, my legs? The Steve Madden stiletto shoes began hurting immediately in almost ten minutes into the performance. My feet went numb, my calves shortened and cramped. I couldn't move, nor did I need to. I stood and faced the spotlight. The metal tube hurting my upper neck. I have a bruise there. One of the shopping bags full of soup cans fell onto the ground. I accepted and dealt with one bag by leaning and lifting it as if not to drop my load. No. Not to drop my load. I cannot drop my load.

The woman took a long time to dress up. She required nice hair, nice makeup, shaved armpits and shaved legs, good pantyhose, new shoes and new dress, good perfume and face mask and creams and nail polish. We know the trappings, yes. She pained me quickly and I became sad and alone. Lonely, standing solitary for audience or not, standing, standing.Thoughts flying through, slowing down. I moved ever so slightly often to keep circulation going. 2 hours is not that long but it can be a lifetime. I stood and nobody told me when to finish I had no sense of time. The blurred faces were spots of colours I cared little who was there. Yet my mind raced around the globe. I pined for home and softness. I thought of harshness of my life, travelling, working, studying...alone. Family on the other side of the world. Always. I pined for home and felt like crying. I don't know if I looked good or not. I suffered and wondered Why? I kept going. Endurance. I know it. I thought back to Ukraine, my childhood. My teeth being extracted with no anaesthetic whatsoever. Yes I am comparing performance to teeth being extracted but the endurance of holding on to the dentist's chair for as long as it took, for the nerves to be taken out with needles, inserted into my live flesh inside my mouth full of blood, tears streaming down my small face,..... open wider...you have very small jaw..open... the corners of my mouth bleeding bleeding...I am standing and slowly bending my knees to help my back. Mama...mama.... I am on a pedestal...yes I am brave yes I can endure but the little shy girl inside me...with those big open cherry eyes and wild forever tangled golden brown hair cries out in bewilderment........ I wanna be a boy I wanna be a boy...

shaved head free movement running running


wheat fields and corn

so small
so free

number THIRTY seven: photography //site-specifics and domestic goddess revisited

Katya Grokhovsky, Double Exposure, House Portrait number 1, 2010 @What It Is, Large Format 4x5 photographs of the house gallery, currently installed inside the house gallery.

http://badatsports.com/2010/top-5-weekend-picks-1112-1114/

13 photographs, opened on the 13th November, 2010

Coming Up:
Performances in NEW Blood Festival 2010

number thirty six: BuNNYDancing and post-open studio, post-lastMFAlecture

Katya Grokhovsky, Instructions for Slow Dancing

breathe.................

BunnyDancing, WOMAN. Blond Wig , again, RUSSIAN BITCH for Halloween and what to do with the voluptuous female body..................my own.

Response to Slow Dance by Stephanie Plenner, (SAIC):

SLOW DANCE
for Katya Grokhovsky

A RESPONSE

The Wait:
The Dancer waiting for a partner
The spectator/audience wait for their turn to dance.
The mind of a spectator watching the dance?
Desire
Yearning
Shy
Awkwardness
Hesitation
Fantasize
Reminisce (good&/or bad memories)

The Distance:

when exploring the dance, explore the space between.
Pushing people's limits.
Smells- what if you smell really bad or (weird)? Will they say something?
Will they excuse their self. or openly mention it?
Touch - What if you keep changing where your hand goes, throwing off the rhythm. How would they react if you gradually move your hand south?
Eye Contact? - what if you just stared at them the whole time. Would they keep the gaze?

The Feet:

How aware is the partner of their feet? Your feet?
Pushing people's limits
What if you are constantly staring at your feet? What if you keep stepping on their feet?
Is it possible to be off beat during slow dance?

The Dialogue:

Exploring conversations during the dance.
When leading the dance, lead the conversation.
How much is your partner willing to reveal about their self?
What if you go into a deep conversation about your ex or current lover, starting with a memory triggered by the current playing song? Will the partner listen, engage in conversation, start to give advice and/or reveal information about their own romances?
Open ended questions allow for various types of discussion.
Scripting.
Resisting discussion. Can't speak? Smile? No smile?

Gender Roles

The conventional female/male dance. Does there have to be a sexual chemistry./agenda between the two participants?

Victor/Victoria.

Films: Seven brides for seven brothers, Le Bal

Lectures: Martha Wilson,
Ori Gersht, Hamish Fulton

Hamish Fulton: .."do in your art what you are really interested in, not what you think will make your career..I was interested and still am, in camping and walking. So that's what I did and do to this day, in my art practice. I walk and camp///".

Martah Wilson: .." it's ok to be unpopular, be unpopular!"
" you are changing the world.."....."i make art for myself....first", "internal sense of the audience...."



Katya Grokhovsky, Slow Dance, Open Studio 2010, SAIC