Last week I got to translate several dramatic and prestigious
sentences about a Burlesque show. It was all very sophisticated, and full of
performative issues.
For example: Is art able to erase the performative nude body?
When and how does art render the body performative?
A collective conversation on a stage laid bare will allow artist and spectator to explore these performative issues.
(I hope they don’t mind that they have suddenly become the Bald Baristas on this highly famous and prestigious blog. My dear B.B.’s, you must know that I give nicknames to all of my favourites!)
I adore the Bald Baristas. If ever you come to Café L'Étincelle, you will see. They are totally adorable. What's more, their grilled cheese renders the body performative.
Before we get to the performance, I want to mention that I developed an extra special love for grilled cheese in India, when the thought of any sort of curry item caused and/or reminded me of liquid shits and/or the nauseous conviction that I should probably get a pregnancy test.
One day I will consume turmeric again. Absolutely not now.
Now it is time for the performance. I wore a weird and confusing frilly corset-possessing shirt that my mother gave me. It is an incomprehensible shirt; however, I have a theory that I come across as the sort of person who does not understand shirts, and that this is part of my charm. Underneath the shirt, I was naked. Being naked underneath clothes is one of life’s most fascinating details. It can sometimes be difficult to think about anything else.
Very hard to say.
For example: Is art able to erase the performative nude body?
When and how does art render the body performative?
A collective conversation on a stage laid bare will allow artist and spectator to explore these performative issues.
Oh, Burlesque. All this made me long to do something
performative. Perhaps not nude, but definitely performative.
I've decided the phrase "Performative Grilled Cheese" has quite
an excellent ring to it. So does its acronym PGC. At Café L'Étincelle, the Bald
Baristas make a thoroughly delightful and satisfying grilled cheese. Crinkled,
cheesy, and lovingly assembled on substantial pieces of sourdough, it is every
best thing a grilled cheese sandwich can be. And all for just $4.25.
Grilled cheese is an outing sort of event for me, for the
reason that buying blocks of cheese is way too much of a commitment. Blocks of
cheese, loaves of bread, forget it. Grocery shopping has been a disaster ever
since the Boatman and I broke up and I moved to Montreal. There are way too
many choices and I switch from store to store, wandering down the aisles in
paralyzing vacillation. It can get a bit embarrassing. Hence the Bald Baristas.
(I hope they don’t mind that they have suddenly become the Bald Baristas on this highly famous and prestigious blog. My dear B.B.’s, you must know that I give nicknames to all of my favourites!)
I adore the Bald Baristas. If ever you come to Café L'Étincelle, you will see. They are totally adorable. What's more, their grilled cheese renders the body performative.
Before we get to the performance, I want to mention that I developed an extra special love for grilled cheese in India, when the thought of any sort of curry item caused and/or reminded me of liquid shits and/or the nauseous conviction that I should probably get a pregnancy test.
 |
| The triple decker grilled cheese, fresh from the streets of Bangalore. 60 rupees. (1.2 dollars) All the vegetables come from a can. For 10 extra rupees, you can request brown bread, but I do not recommend this. |
Now it is time for the performance. I wore a weird and confusing frilly corset-possessing shirt that my mother gave me. It is an incomprehensible shirt; however, I have a theory that I come across as the sort of person who does not understand shirts, and that this is part of my charm. Underneath the shirt, I was naked. Being naked underneath clothes is one of life’s most fascinating details. It can sometimes be difficult to think about anything else.
 |
| confusing frilly corset-possessing shirt from mom. |
Can art provide a solution?
When? How?
Is art able to erase the performative nude body?Very hard to say.
Performative Grilled Cheese, by Erica J. Schmidt:
The End.
Be sure to visit the Bald Baristas at Café L'Étincelle, 1991 rue Beaubien.
I can't wait for my next Grilled Cheese! Their coffee is also exceptional!
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| Bonus Performative Broccoli. Why hold back now? Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook Twitter: @mypelvicfloor 2-3 dollar self-help book, I Let Go This post was part of a five-day series called, "Five Days of Creative Recovery" during which I will try to post something creative every day, even though my priorities should almost certainly be looking for a new place to live on May 2. Feel free to join in with your own creative pursuits! Five Days of Creative Recovery (Introduction) Day One: Kleenex (working Title) Jujubes Selfies with Brownies Rideshare, Sterilization and Doughnuts My name is Erica. I love coffee. |
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