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His celebrity transformations are bizarre and the process is captivating
His celebrity transformations are bizarre and the process is captivating

CNN

time09-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • CNN

His celebrity transformations are bizarre and the process is captivating

During the Fall-Winter 2025 haute couture shows in Paris, Morticia Addams — the eerie and elegant matriarch from 'The Addams Family' movie franchise — can be seen slinking around the cobblestoned streets of the French capital. Tall, ghostly pale, and with long jet-black hair cascading down her back, this Addams could pass, at a quick glance, for the actor Anjelica Huston, who played Addams in the 1990s films. Underneath the flowing tresses, though, is a muscular 31-year-old man: Alexis Stone, a performance and makeup artist known to 1.3 million Instagram followers and hundreds of thousands more on TikTok. While multiple TikTok creators today adeptly use makeup to drastically alter their facial features to resemble particular celebrities, Stone's work goes beyond full-face treatments into whole-body transformations, presented live and in public. Using prosthetics, special effects makeup and bespoke enhancements (such as custom scents), the result is often on par with the kind of execution one might see on the big screen. 'I think people have an idea that we go to a Halloween shop and buy these things over the counter, but everything is handmade and takes decades of experience to put together,' said Stone. In June, he gave CNN a tour of his apartment in Glasgow, Scotland. Here, in his home, is where the prototypes and final looks are developed. Impersonating Huston as Addams was an eight-week process that required intensive research, said Stone. 'We wanted to reference as close to the original Addams as possible, from the original wig to her iconic black, torn sequin gown (both sourced from the film's costume department),' explained Stone. On a long wooden table are Polaroids, taken by hair stylist and wig designer Paul Huntley in the '90s, of Huston and her late costar Raul Julia, who played the role of husband Gomez Addams. 'All the pictures are originals so please be careful with them,' reads an accompanying message. 'There are a lot of moving parts, from sculpting and mold-making to the hair team, who will get started on the wigs and eyebrows. Occasionally, I have contact lenses that are custom-made,' said Stone. The room where he primarily does his prosthetic development has a giant mirror and ring light, as well as shelves of paints, face molds, and other workshop tools — the sort of setup seen in the 2024 TV remake of 'The Day of the Jackal.' 'It is the same kind of production, lead times and budgets that you see in the film and TV industry — except we're doing it for real life,' Stone noted. Those budgets, he said, can reach six figures. Stone, whose legal name is Elliot Joseph Rentz, attends Paris Fashion Week twice a year under the guise of a celebrity, a famous character or a celebrity playing a famous character. Those personalities have included Jack Nicholson, Lana Del Rey, Madonna, Adele, Jennifer Coolidge, and Glenn Close as Cruella de Vil from the 1996 film remake '101 Dalmatians'. The makeup artist left his hometown, Brighton, England, aged 16 and bounced around London, Manchester, Luleå in Sweden, and New York, before settling on Glasgow. Coming from what he described as a 'broken' family, Stone became interested in the idea of morphing into someone else from a young age. 'When I was a kid, I loved being unrecognizable, wearing wigs, fat suits and clip-in teeth, and I think that naturally evolved. Soothing my inner childhood by dressing up wasn't necessarily a direction I was aiming for, but it's something I fell into, and it's been an interesting journey,' Stone said. In 2018, Stone achieved international notoriety as he convinced social media followers that he had undergone extensive plastic surgery over a span of six months, including a botched procedure — only to later reveal that it was all a hoax. 'At the core of my work is really this expression of identity and using the power of makeup,' said Stone. The turning point in Stone's career was attending Balenciaga's runway show in March 2022 as Robin Williams' character in 'Mrs. Doubtfire.' 'I wasn't well versed in the world of fashion, but Demna (the brand's designer) had stumbled across my work, and we decided to work together,' said Stone. Since then, Stone has been a front row fixture at fashion week — attending the shows of Balenciaga as well as Diesel, Jean Paul Gaultier and Hugo Boss — always in the uncanny likeness of a familiar face. Today, it's not uncommon to see a celebrity lookalike at a fashion event. A Kate Moss doppelganger (who dubs herself 'Fake Moss') created a social media frenzy in 2023 when she was spotted in an Aldi supermarket in Manchester ahead of the Chanel show. In 2024, she walked the runway for the up-and-coming label Marine Serre. Last year, the fashion label Alexander Wang garnered attention for using lookalikes of Ariana Grande, Taylor Swift, Beyoncé and Kylie Jenner in an advertising campaign. The ad, posted by the brand on Instagram and TikTok, was captioned '100% certified authentic.' 'Brands love to be part of these viral stunts,' said Stone. 'It is, in essence, the ultimate marketing campaign because it's this sort of moving billboard, and so many people recognize these cult or classic characters, having watched them growing up. For brands, this is a way of being part of that magic.' Stone's appearances have resulted in plenty of coverage in fashion magazines, including Vogue and Grazia, and have fascinated the public. 'Does Alexis Stone get paid to pretend he's an old lady celebrity or what? What's his deal?' reads the title of one Reddit forum thread. Other users chimed in, complimenting Stone for his 'incredibly talented' ability to blend like 'a chameleon'. To date, Stone has experimented with at least 250 celebrity metamorphoses. Among his most successful looks was emulating Meryl Streep as Miranda Priestly from 'The Devil Wears Prada' in 2024. A single Instagram post shared by Stone of his transformation into the ruthless character achieved a remarkable $1.4 million in earned media value — the monetary worth of media exposure a brand receives, including mentions, shares and articles — with a whopping 59.6% engagement rate, according to analytics firm Lefty. (The average engagement rate for media and entertainment posts on Instagram is 3%, according to social media management platform Hootsuite.) Key to Stone's success is his all-encompassing approach. When the visual artist set out to become a replica of Jack Nicholson last year, not only did he have custom dentures (created by a special effects expert) that mimicked the actor's distinctive grin; he also worked with a perfumer to develop a custom fragrance that smelled like tobacco, capturing what he thought Nicholson might have smelled like. 'It becomes more of an immersive experience rather than just visual,' said Stone. When he wore the scent to the show, he said, 'the whole room just ended up stinking.' To create his looks, Stone has worked with various prosthetics and special effects experts, including Neill Gorton, the prosthetics designer known for his work on films like 'Saving Private Ryan' (1998), 'Children of Men' (2006) and 'Doctor Who' (2005), and dental technician Dominic Mombrun of 'Morbius' (2022), 'The Substance' (2024) and 'The Count of Monte-Cristo' (2024). When it comes to getting dressed for the final reveal at Paris Fashion Week, Stone noted: 'There's always an army of at least 10 people helping me.' Ensuring the accuracy of each persona he adopts is essential — especially for 'characters that are so beloved by millions of people,' Stone explained. 'People are so protective of some of these characters. When you reference individuals who are either no longer with us, or touched us on a deeper level, it is personal — so people can be very critical.' Case in point: the criticism around the costuming of enduring style icon Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy in 'American Love Story.' Asked whether he had a preference for emulating older adults, Stone explained that signs of aging, such as fine lines, were easier to recreate than youthful skin. 'I'm a six-foot-tall muscly man, so as much as I would love to be Kylie Jenner, there are physical limitations,' he said. Sometimes there are requests for looks that Stone will decline, because there 'has to be a personal element to why I'm connected to that character,' he said. 'If I'm spending three months studying them, detail by detail, I need to be stimulated to some degree.' In the case of Addams, Stone viewed her as 'this morbidly beautiful and maybe not-very-optimistic character, and I thought I could lean into that.' This couture season marks Balenciaga's last runway under Demna, whose exit was announced in March. When there is a new designer at a luxury house, it's not uncommon for there to be changes in the brand's designs as well as across its retail and marketing touchpoints. While Stone has been invited to attend events and work with other fashion labels, it is Balenciaga that he has the deepest and longest-standing relationship with. 'I'm often asked, 'What happens after Balenciaga?', and I think of a Linda Evangalista quote where she said, 'The goal is to get out of fashion as quickly as you get into it,'' said Stone, laughing. 'I have such a beautiful bulk of work behind me; this would be a natural time to pause and catch my breath.' Despite the perceived glamour of working in fashion, beneath the surface there is plenty of effort and compromise, Stone explained. 'I love fashion shows, but they're not the most relaxing of environments. We're talking 4am starts, six hours before the show begins.' Wearing heavy makeup and prosthetic looks isn't particularly enjoyable either, he added. 'It's hot, it's sweaty, it's not designed to be experienced and lived in, outside of a movie set. I love it once I can sit back and watch the visuals we've created. But in the moment, when there are so many moving parts, it's very stressful.' For now, fans can take comfort that this won't be the last they'll see — or hear — of Stone. Over the past three years, the creative production company Division has been trailing Stone as they film a documentary on the performance artist. The release date has not yet been set. 'I don't know if I'll ever fully understand why people take such interest in what I do,' Stone mused. 'Perhaps it's because, as humans, we have days where we want to feel more visible, and other days where we want to feel invisible or unrecognizable. I think that's something we can all relate to, to some degree.'

His celebrity transformations are bizarre and the process is captivating
His celebrity transformations are bizarre and the process is captivating

CNN

time09-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • CNN

His celebrity transformations are bizarre and the process is captivating

During the Fall-Winter 2025 haute couture shows in Paris, Morticia Addams — the eerie and elegant matriarch from 'The Addams Family' movie franchise — can be seen slinking around the cobblestoned streets of the French capital. Tall, ghostly pale, and with long jet-black hair cascading down her back, this Addams could pass, at a quick glance, for the actor Anjelica Huston, who played Addams in the 1990s films. Underneath the flowing tresses, though, is a muscular 31-year-old man: Alexis Stone, a performance and makeup artist known to 1.3 million Instagram followers and hundreds of thousands more on TikTok. While multiple TikTok creators today adeptly use makeup to drastically alter their facial features to resemble particular celebrities, Stone's work goes beyond full-face treatments into whole-body transformations, presented live and in public. Using prosthetics, special effects makeup and bespoke enhancements (such as custom scents), the result is often on par with the kind of execution one might see on the big screen. 'I think people have an idea that we go to a Halloween shop and buy these things over the counter, but everything is handmade and takes decades of experience to put together,' said Stone. In June, he gave CNN a tour of his apartment in Glasgow, Scotland. Here, in his home, is where the prototypes and final looks are developed. Impersonating Huston as Addams was an eight-week process that required intensive research, said Stone. 'We wanted to reference as close to the original Addams as possible, from the original wig to her iconic black, torn sequin gown (both sourced from the film's costume department),' explained Stone. On a long wooden table are Polaroids, taken by hair stylist and wig designer Paul Huntley in the '90s, of Huston and her late costar Raul Julia, who played the role of husband Gomez Addams. 'All the pictures are originals so please be careful with them,' reads an accompanying message. 'There are a lot of moving parts, from sculpting and mold-making to the hair team, who will get started on the wigs and eyebrows. Occasionally, I have contact lenses that are custom-made,' said Stone. The room where he primarily does his prosthetic development has a giant mirror and ring light, as well as shelves of paints, face molds, and other workshop tools — the sort of setup seen in the 2024 TV remake of 'The Day of the Jackal.' 'It is the same kind of production, lead times and budgets that you see in the film and TV industry — except we're doing it for real life,' Stone noted. Those budgets, he said, can reach six figures. Stone, whose legal name is Elliot Joseph Rentz, attends Paris Fashion Week twice a year under the guise of a celebrity, a famous character or a celebrity playing a famous character. Those personalities have included Jack Nicholson, Lana Del Rey, Madonna, Adele, Jennifer Coolidge, and Glenn Close as Cruella de Vil from the 1996 film remake '101 Dalmatians'. The makeup artist left his hometown, Brighton, England, aged 16 and bounced around London, Manchester, Luleå in Sweden, and New York, before settling on Glasgow. Coming from what he described as a 'broken' family, Stone became interested in the idea of morphing into someone else from a young age. 'When I was a kid, I loved being unrecognizable, wearing wigs, fat suits and clip-in teeth, and I think that naturally evolved. Soothing my inner childhood by dressing up wasn't necessarily a direction I was aiming for, but it's something I fell into, and it's been an interesting journey,' Stone said. It is the same kind of production, lead times and budgets that you see on film and TV — except we're doing it for real life. Performance and makeup artist Alexis Stone In 2018, Stone achieved international notoriety as he convinced social media followers that he had undergone extensive plastic surgery over a span of six months, including a botched procedure — only to later reveal that it was all a hoax. 'At the core of my work is really this expression of identity and using the power of makeup,' said Stone. The turning point in Stone's career was attending Balenciaga's runway show in March 2022 as Robin Williams' character in 'Mrs. Doubtfire.' 'I wasn't well versed in the world of fashion, but Demna (the brand's designer) had stumbled across my work, and we decided to work together,' said Stone. Since then, Stone has been a front row fixture at fashion week — attending the shows of Balenciaga as well as Diesel, Jean Paul Gaultier and Hugo Boss — always in the uncanny likeness of a familiar face. Today, it's not uncommon to see a celebrity lookalike at a fashion event. A Kate Moss doppelganger (who dubs herself 'Fake Moss') created a social media frenzy in 2023 when she was spotted in an Aldi supermarket in Manchester ahead of the Chanel show. In 2024, she walked the runway for the up-and-coming label Marine Serre. Last year, the fashion label Alexander Wang garnered attention for using lookalikes of Ariana Grande, Taylor Swift, Beyoncé and Kylie Jenner in an advertising campaign. The ad, posted by the brand on Instagram and TikTok, was captioned '100% certified authentic.' 'Brands love to be part of these viral stunts,' said Stone. 'It is, in essence, the ultimate marketing campaign because it's this sort of moving billboard, and so many people recognize these cult or classic characters, having watched them growing up. For brands, this is a way of being part of that magic.' Stone's appearances have resulted in plenty of coverage in fashion magazines, including Vogue and Grazia, and have fascinated the public. 'Does Alexis Stone get paid to pretend he's an old lady celebrity or what? What's his deal?' reads the title of one Reddit forum thread. Other users chimed in, complimenting Stone for his 'incredibly talented' ability to blend like 'a chameleon'. To date, Stone has experimented with at least 250 celebrity metamorphoses. Among his most successful looks was emulating Meryl Streep as Miranda Priestly from 'The Devil Wears Prada' in 2024. A single Instagram post shared by Stone of his transformation into the ruthless character achieved a remarkable $1.4 million in earned media value — the monetary worth of media exposure a brand receives, including mentions, shares and articles — with a whopping 59.6% engagement rate, according to analytics firm Lefty. (The average engagement rate for media and entertainment posts on Instagram is 3%, according to social media management platform Hootsuite.) Key to Stone's success is his all-encompassing approach. When the visual artist set out to become a replica of Jack Nicholson last year, not only did he have custom dentures (created by a special effects expert) that mimicked the actor's distinctive grin; he also worked with a perfumer to develop a custom fragrance that smelled like tobacco, capturing what he thought Nicholson might have smelled like. 'It becomes more of an immersive experience rather than just visual,' said Stone. When he wore the scent to the show, he said, 'the whole room just ended up stinking.' To create his looks, Stone has worked with various prosthetics and special effects experts, including Neill Gorton, the prosthetics designer known for his work on films like 'Saving Private Ryan' (1998), 'Children of Men' (2006) and 'Doctor Who' (2005), and dental technician Dominic Mombrun of 'Morbius' (2022), 'The Substance' (2024) and 'The Count of Monte-Cristo' (2024). When it comes to getting dressed for the final reveal at Paris Fashion Week, Stone noted: 'There's always an army of at least 10 people helping me.' Ensuring the accuracy of each persona he adopts is essential — especially for 'characters that are so beloved by millions of people,' Stone explained. 'People are so protective of some of these characters. When you reference individuals who are either no longer with us, or touched us on a deeper level, it is personal — so people can be very critical.' Case in point: the criticism around the costuming of enduring style icon Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy in 'American Love Story.' Asked whether he had a preference for emulating older adults, Stone explained that signs of aging, such as fine lines, were easier to recreate than youthful skin. 'I'm a six-foot-tall muscly man, so as much as I would love to be Kylie Jenner, there are physical limitations,' he said. Sometimes there are requests for looks that Stone will decline, because there 'has to be a personal element to why I'm connected to that character,' he said. 'If I'm spending three months studying them, detail by detail, I need to be stimulated to some degree.' In the case of Addams, Stone viewed her as 'this morbidly beautiful and maybe not-very-optimistic character, and I thought I could lean into that.' This couture season marks Balenciaga's last runway under Demna, whose exit was announced in March. When there is a new designer at a luxury house, it's not uncommon for there to be changes in the brand's designs as well as across its retail and marketing touchpoints. While Stone has been invited to attend events and work with other fashion labels, it is Balenciaga that he has the deepest and longest-standing relationship with. 'I'm often asked, 'What happens after Balenciaga?', and I think of a Linda Evangalista quote where she said, 'The goal is to get out of fashion as quickly as you get into it,'' said Stone, laughing. 'I have such a beautiful bulk of work behind me; this would be a natural time to pause and catch my breath.' Despite the perceived glamour of working in fashion, beneath the surface there is plenty of effort and compromise, Stone explained. 'I love fashion shows, but they're not the most relaxing of environments. We're talking 4am starts, six hours before the show begins.' Wearing heavy makeup and prosthetic looks isn't particularly enjoyable either, he added. 'It's hot, it's sweaty, it's not designed to be experienced and lived in, outside of a movie set. I love it once I can sit back and watch the visuals we've created. But in the moment, when there are so many moving parts, it's very stressful.' For now, fans can take comfort that this won't be the last they'll see — or hear — of Stone. Over the past three years, the creative production company Division has been trailing Stone as they film a documentary on the performance artist. The release date has not yet been set. 'I don't know if I'll ever fully understand why people take such interest in what I do,' Stone mused. 'Perhaps it's because, as humans, we have days where we want to feel more visible, and other days where we want to feel invisible or unrecognizable. I think that's something we can all relate to, to some degree.'

‘They feel cleansed, they cry … some really don't like it!' The 12-hour psychedelic theatre-rave Trance
‘They feel cleansed, they cry … some really don't like it!' The 12-hour psychedelic theatre-rave Trance

The Guardian

time08-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • The Guardian

‘They feel cleansed, they cry … some really don't like it!' The 12-hour psychedelic theatre-rave Trance

Naked performers covered in paint roll around atop dirt and foliage. Menacing sculptures hang from the ceiling and walls. The costumes have a beastly quality. At one point, a stream of feathers are strewn across the stage; at another, pink petals float down from above. This is Trance, an immersive psychedelic experience inspired by an eclectic mix of influences from electronic music and rave culture to Buddhism, cartoons and Japanese Butoh dance theatre. When 39-year-old Chinese artist and director Tianzhuo Chen first had the idea for Trance in 2019, it was to accompany a solo exhibition of his work at M Woods Museum in Beijing. The initial result was a three-day performance with each fraction spanning 12 continuous hours. It has since been whittled down to a single 12-hour-long production. This month, the show is on in London as part of the Southbank Centre's ESEA Encounters, a series celebrating east and south-east Asian arts and culture. It will serve as somewhat of an artistic homecoming for Chen, who did his undergraduate and master's degrees at Central Saint Martins and Chelsea College of Arts, respectively. 'London definitely influenced a lot of the club part of it,' he says over video call, dressed in a simple black T-shirt and clear-frame glasses. 'When I was living in the UK, I was pretty young and I experienced a lot of its club culture.' Since graduating in 2010 (and returning to China for some years after), he has made a name for himself by bringing the sacred and the subcultural together. In 2015, Chen founded the music-art-dance collective Asian Dope Boys, which earned a cult following for shows resembling both religious ceremonies and avant garde techno parties. In 2018, 20 members toured Europe performing at venues including London's Barbican, the Palais de Tokyo in Paris and Säule, an experimental space at Berlin's iconic club Berghain. He has lived in Berlin for the last three years. In 2024, at the city's HAU performance space, Chen premiered Ocean Cage, a video and performance piece inspired by stories from Lamalera. The fishing village in Indonesia is one of the last communities in the world where traditional whale-hunting still exists – the locals relying on it for both sustenance and as part of their spiritual beliefs. 'Because it's a volcano island, it doesn't grow anything, so they have to go whaling for their survival,' he says, explaining that they believe that their ancestors were reborn as whales in order to feed the village. With Trance, Chen wanted to bring people from different disciplines together. 'Musicians, performers, professionals, non-professionals, all of it,' he explains. Six years on, the genre-bending theatre-rave has been performed around the world. The latest version can be divided into six two-hour chapters, each reflecting on Buddhist themes, especially the idea of reincarnation, which in its cosmology has six realms: gods, demigods, humans, animals, hungry ghosts and hell. 'In the beginning, they are performing from an image of hell,' he says of a sequence also referencing a series of 15th-century Japanese paintings that explore the different stages of death. 'A beautiful woman dies, her rotting corpse is eaten by dogs and becomes dust at the end,' he says. For him, the first chapter feels particularly meditative. 'It comes from the Buddhist idea of how you treat your body, and that there is nothing left other than flesh when you die.' By the final chapter, Trance shifts into what Chen calls a 'collective rave' and takes a more optimistic turn. 'The last part is the most human; everyone is dancing on their own,' he says. 'It's the part most strongly related to club culture, to dancing, to the expression of the individual.' It's also the point in the performance when those watching get most involved. 'So much of it is sharing the moment with the audience,' making them a part of 'this ritual and ceremony, a healing and cleansing-type moment'. Trance does not follow an explicit narrative, allowing it to evolve as it moves through continents and venues. 'It's a little bit site-specific, as the stage never looks the same,' he says. He points out that some venues are well-equipped, some offer outdoor space, and some are simply dilapidated buildings. But, as a result, he never gets tired of showing it. 'Little changes and different conditions keep this work progressing because it has to,' he says. At the Southbank Centre, 'we are creating a special design for it, and we are using their big theatre room to screen Ocean Cave'. He has also invited the Japanese dubstep musician Takeaki Maruyama, known professionally as Goth-Trad, to perform. 'I went to a lot of dubstep parties when I was in London before some of the legendary dubstep clubs closed down, so now feels like the time to embrace it,' says Chen. It's not every theatre production that can also double as a 12-hour rave. 'I get a lot of feedback,' says Chen. 'People say it's the best performance ever … they feel healed, they feel cleansed, they cried, all these feelings. And then some people really don't like it! All this strong emotion is what I appreciate. You don't have to understand the story or have any background knowledge – how you emotionally relate and connect with the piece is the most important thing to me.' Tianzhuo Chen: Trance is at Queen Elizabeth Hall Foyer, London, on 18 July as part of the Southbank Centre's ESEA Encounters season, which runs 17-20 July

My cultural awakening: a Marina Abramović show helped me to stop hating my abusive father
My cultural awakening: a Marina Abramović show helped me to stop hating my abusive father

The Guardian

time05-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • The Guardian

My cultural awakening: a Marina Abramović show helped me to stop hating my abusive father

On an unseasonably warm day in October 2023, I arrived, ahead of the queues, at London's Southbank Centre for a conceptual art takeover by the world-famous Marina Abramović Institute. I had recently read Marina's memoir Walk Through Walls, which had resonated. So, when I'd seen the event advertised – hours-long performances by artists she'd invited, curated and introduced by Marina – I bought a £60 ticket and waited for my time slot to enter the Queen Elizabeth Hall. I hadn't seen performance art before, and this was due to include her well-known work The Artist Is Present with an artist sitting, static and silent, in a chair all day, as Marina once did for an accumulated 736 hours and 30 minutes at the Museum of Modern Art. I felt certain that it would affect me, I just wasn't sure how. It came at an interesting time in my life. I was raised in a fundamentalist Christian family, the daughter of a priest who was physically abusive. I'd been in therapy for years, but my experiences still affected me and I'd recently cut contact with my father with my family. So, when I entered the first room at the Southbank where Marina was to spoke and introduce around a dozen artists, I was still coming to terms with this new way of dealing with my past. I was immediately drawn to one of the artists, a man from Myanmar who was to perform the chair piece with a cloth sack over his head. We heard how he'd been part of an organisation in Myanmar that opposed violence and therefore risked death if he was publicly identified. I was moved by what he was risking for his art. I also knew it was a hard piece; Marina wasn't going to give it to just anyone. As people moved between performers, I saw him, seated in the atrium, with a large crowd; I waited for a quieter moment to return. When I finally stood before him, I was overcome. I felt an urge to sit down in front of him and didn't care what others thought. I was compelled to do it for myself. I can't say how long I sat there, maybe an hour. In that time, I rewrote my definition of 'strength'. I used to think my father's aggression made him strong but now I saw someone using his muscular arms and legs to be still, for peaceful protest. I imagined the loss he must have experienced in war and the mental strength to sit there. I thought of what I'd read in Marina's book; how pain set in three hours into sitting still. I cried: the good tears, where you let part of your past go. It felt cleansing. When I left, I felt lighter. I decided that this would be my father figure now: this person who had strength but did not hurt me, who had reasons to be aggressive but did not direct his anger towards a six-year-old whispering in her brother's ear or disturbing his preaching, as my father had. It unlocked something in me. It gave me a positive male figure to replace what had gone before and helped me not to hate my father or men. It also unblocked the creativity that had laid dormant within me, an artistic side that had reminded me too much of my father's similar creative charisma. I started drawing: comic-books and illustrations. I'm an atheist but I believe there are spiritual moments you can choose to embrace: this, for me, was one. I think of it often. I even have the poster from the takeover in my toilet, serving as a daily reminder. I'm 41 and throughout life I've learned to expect the unexpected. Usually, when I go to see art it's to learn something new, and this was a big one. This changed me as a woman, as a soul, an immigrant, a creative, a child. That man gave himself to us as an artist and I accepted his gift. You can tell us how a cultural moment has prompted you to make a major life change by filling in the form below or emailing us on Please include as much detail as possible Please note, the maximum file size is 5.7 MB. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian. If you include other people's names please ask them first.

My cultural awakening: a Marina Abramović show helped me to stop hating my abusive father
My cultural awakening: a Marina Abramović show helped me to stop hating my abusive father

The Guardian

time05-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • The Guardian

My cultural awakening: a Marina Abramović show helped me to stop hating my abusive father

On an unseasonably warm day in October 2023, I arrived, ahead of the queues, at London's Southbank Centre for a conceptual art takeover by the world-famous Marina Abramović Institute. I had recently read Marina's memoir Walk Through Walls, which had resonated. So, when I'd seen the event advertised – hours-long performances by artists she'd invited, curated and introduced by Marina – I bought a £60 ticket and waited for my time slot to enter the Queen Elizabeth Hall. I hadn't seen performance art before, and this was due to include her well-known work The Artist Is Present with an artist sitting, static and silent, in a chair all day, as Marina once did for an accumulated 736 hours and 30 minutes at the Museum of Modern Art. I felt certain that it would affect me, I just wasn't sure how. It came at an interesting time in my life. I was raised in a fundamentalist Christian family, the daughter of a priest who was physically abusive. I'd been in therapy for years, but my experiences still affected me and I'd recently cut contact with my father with my family. So, when I entered the first room at the Southbank where Marina was to spoke and introduce around a dozen artists, I was still coming to terms with this new way of dealing with my past. I was immediately drawn to one of the artists, a man from Myanmar who was to perform the chair piece with a cloth sack over his head. We heard how he'd been part of an organisation in Myanmar that opposed violence and therefore risked death if he was publicly identified. I was moved by what he was risking for his art. I also knew it was a hard piece; Marina wasn't going to give it to just anyone. As people moved between performers, I saw him, seated in the atrium, with a large crowd; I waited for a quieter moment to return. When I finally stood before him, I was overcome. I felt an urge to sit down in front of him and didn't care what others thought. I was compelled to do it for myself. I can't say how long I sat there, maybe an hour. In that time, I rewrote my definition of 'strength'. I used to think my father's aggression made him strong but now I saw someone using his muscular arms and legs to be still, for peaceful protest. I imagined the loss he must have experienced in war and the mental strength to sit there. I thought of what I'd read in Marina's book; how pain set in three hours into sitting still. I cried: the good tears, where you let part of your past go. It felt cleansing. When I left, I felt lighter. I decided that this would be my father figure now: this person who had strength but did not hurt me, who had reasons to be aggressive but did not direct his anger towards a six-year-old whispering in her brother's ear or disturbing his preaching, as my father had. It unlocked something in me. It gave me a positive male figure to replace what had gone before and helped me not to hate my father or men. It also unblocked the creativity that had laid dormant within me, an artistic side that had reminded me too much of my father's similar creative charisma. I started drawing: comic-books and illustrations. I'm an atheist but I believe there are spiritual moments you can choose to embrace: this, for me, was one. I think of it often. I even have the poster from the takeover in my toilet, serving as a daily reminder. I'm 41 and throughout life I've learned to expect the unexpected. Usually, when I go to see art it's to learn something new, and this was a big one. This changed me as a woman, as a soul, an immigrant, a creative, a child. That man gave himself to us as an artist and I accepted his gift. You can tell us how a cultural moment has prompted you to make a major life change by filling in the form below or emailing us on Please include as much detail as possible Please note, the maximum file size is 5.7 MB. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian. If you include other people's names please ask them first.

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