The Romanian artist Lia Perjovschi (*1961), preparing an exhibition in the Museum of Modern Art in Barcelona (“Museum of Parallel Narratives. In the framework of L'Internationale”), produced her installation in the form of a very long line running along the museum walls approximately at eye level. Only by coming up close to the wall could a viewer discern that the line was a chronology of the history of world art from modernism to the present. Notes by the artist, reproductions of contemporary press cuttings at the appropriate points on the timeline, and mindmaps supplemented the chronology. Since founding CAA (Contemporary Art Archive / Centre for Art Analysis) in 2003, the artist has travelled with this ‘suitcase archive’, adapting it so as to facilitate communication, as her goal is contact with the public and the exploration and comparison of selected information. It was the insufficiency of information on modern art during her studies in socialist Romania that gave Lia Perjovschi the impulse to do this extensive archival work. She organised her project entitled Subjective Art History (1997–2004, with ongoing extensions) as an ‘active reader’ who breaks down the academic history of art into elementary particles and recombines them according to a system of her own. This system comprises, besides a sequence of artworks, newspaper cuttings, film scenes, elements from the media, exhibitions, and the social and cultural institutions which control the reception of art.1 Hence their chronology, arranged in a sequence of data and diagrams, grows into a complex where text and image have equal standing, and where, from any point of this chronology, it is possible to begin a new reading. The artist’s work could not be a revision or rewriting of art history, nor indeed was that her purpose. She has, however, confirmed my opinion that when interpreting art from East European countries it is necessary to keep track of the processes of self-historicising and self-archiving. Artists who created their work willy-nilly, in non-institutional settings had to give it an autonomous context. We know that this context can mythicise events or even generate fictional ones. Processes of self-historicising are manifested in the discursive and material components of the archive, the disposition of textual and pictorial documents, and their arrangement in a system of language. Archival practices reflect not only the artwork itself but also the language of social communication. Additionally, either directly or indirectly they criticise the hierarchical and bureaucratic nature of the system of cultural practice. Subversive affirmation of the bureaucratic apparatuses of power is identified as a component part of survival strategies in artistic groups and communities in Eastern Europe under its former regimes.2 The mechanisms of self-historicising have taken on the innovative forms of archives3 and touch on broader questions of memory control, knowledge distribution and authenticity of documentation.
In his essay “How to Write the History of Central-East European Art” Piotr Piotrowski stressed “the need to make comparative studies, negotiating different meanings of local art produced around some focal historical point.”4 Outlining his horizontal history of Central-East European art, Piotrowski homed in on those differences which dissolve stereotypical perceptions (typically overstressing the ideological uniformity of the Marxist-Leninist system in the background of artistic production in the Eastern Bloc). Piotrowski’s theses of a critical geography of art concentrate on the dynamics of power, inscribed in the spatial discourse of (political) geography. He set up his methodology as a paradigmatic turn, away from one-dimensional orientation of progressive East European culture on the contemporary West, towards a comparative analysis of the political framework of art in ‘other’ territories and peripheral or marginal localities. For Piotrowski “the local is at once something more and something less than the national. It means that it can transgress national (or state) borders, to learn from national heritage, and at the same time not be reduced to the ‘essence’ of the nation (nationalism).”5 His aim was to sustain a narrative which was pluralist and non-hierarchical in character, and as such his method remains up-to-date and relevant.
Piotrowski’s theses establish the “diversity without hierarchy” upon which he has so often insisted.6 With this approach he opened a path to a more widely conceived criticism of the dominant art-historical narrative and the Western canon of art, and thereby situated the post-communist processes of social transformation in a global perspective. To connect the Eastern Europe of the past, and other “world peripheries”, to a global history of art was to “provincialise” the West, according to Piotrowski, who borrowed this metaphor from Dipesh Chakrabarty. In Chakrabarty’s words, “I ask for a history that deliberately makes visible, within the very structure of its visible forms, its own repressive strategies and practices.”7 Precisely this view of history, as a system of knowledge firmly anchored in institutional practices and responsive to every move of the national state, is a vector of resistance to the reductive practices of the national states in the ex-communist Eastern region.
When using the term Eastern European Art, in present-day cultural practice we quickly come up against a problem of definition. There is another ambiguity caused by an insufficiently precise historiographical classification of the concept, which results in a hybridity of the idea itself. Far from being an inheritance from history or a past shared by the countries being researched, this idea of Eastern European Art is connected with the present day. It gradually became established in practice, above all in the titles of exhibitions, which were thematically bound up with interpretation of the socialist past and discovery of little-known artistic positions from the formerly socialist countries. Macrohistories of East European art play a truly important role, because they are instruments of reconfiguration of the art-historical canon and also function as a medium which “promotes, mediates, constructs, critically reflects, historicises and re-formats the histories of the art of former Eastern Europe after 1989.”8 In an ongoing reading of retrospective exhibition projects and also in their subsequent criticism, we find a dynamic and hitherto uncompleted process of the historicisation of art in this region. Jelena Vesić notes that these exhibitions “promoted numerous post-socialist stereotypes… In the contemporary appropriation of the avant-garde communist legacy, its original social meaning was often neglected, laying the groundwork for its safe integration in the global industry of political iconography, postmodern pastiche, and different versions of nostalgic-hipsterish, depoliticised retro-formalisms.”9 Insofar as the image of East European art is produced, applied and received in modes of curatorial practice, a spectrum of conventions and cultural codes legitimising the selected works in the given system is established and put in circulation. The politics of identity plays a key role in retrospective exhibitions of East European art, and therefore one must pay attention to how an articulation of identity enters the rhetorical imagery and discursive practices of curators and art institutions. Cristian Nae has pointed to a process of reification of East European identity, which he sees as expressed by a capitalisation of criticality. According to Nae, “such tendency of capitalisation finds its origins in a specific reception of the East European neo-avant-gardes which, during the Iron Curtain divide, produced art often in conditions of market-free production and often understood as gestures of political oppositionality and aesthetic dissidence.”10 And although the Western market has gradually become saturated with East European radical art, it has never been possible to commodify them in a thoroughgoing way. The commodification of East European art was driven from the beginning by such attributes as exoticism, archaism and the irrational. “Easternification” as a process of constructing the identity of the culturally Other, described so well by Igor Zabel, reformulating East European identities and traditions so as to exoticise and orientalise them.11 This process was played out for the purpose of inscribing the process of westernisation of the East European countries into the currently dominant discursive frameworks; but it also functioned retroactively, put ground under the feet of artists, curators and theoreticians where they could rethink their stances under these imposed conditions.
Here we come up against a problem posed differently. Who is actually entitled to produce history? This is the issue raised by Zdenka Badovinac, who declares that the question What is the identity of art in the selected region? is replaced by the question: Who is the agent of historicisation for that region? As director of a museum which has systematically researched and presented the art of this region for almost two decades, she has direct experience of the fact that the institutional framework of presentation is never neutral and has a marked influence on the significance of an exhibition. “Nowadays, museums wish to speak in a variety of voices, but usually, the voices are filtered through the existing conceptual and representational models of the institution. When striving for a plurality of narratives, we should keep in mind that already the space and place of the presentation codify the exhibition.”12
Jiří Ševčík drew attention to the mechanisms of mapping East European art in many of his texts on modern and contemporary work by Czechs and Slovaks. In one of his later writings he tardily regretted the approach in an anthology of Czech art 1938-1989 that he co-edited, but which left the original political framework of the Czechoslovak state, and its associated illusion of the common culture of two peoples, entirely unconsidered.13 During the first decade of the new millennium, when “archival fever” began to affect contemporary artistic practice,14 reflection of the archive in art had an influence on how Czech and Slovak scholars approached the historical documents and archive materials of action art/performance art. The influences that guided and, to a marked extent, determined these modes of historicisation included, firstly, the break-up of Czechoslovakia at the end of 1992, but there was also the subsequent process of transformation and integration of the newly-formed states into the Euroatlantic alliance.15 While performance served the artists as an individual subversion of ideological systems, “it is precisely the historically constructed critical ‘authenticity’ of performance art which becomes the trademark for a commercial product after 1989 – its capacity for producing critical effects in the social field and for staying outside the critical logic inherent to the art market in the former West, while also proving its continuity with the Western neo-avant-gardes.”16
We must now consider the descendent character of the processes of documentation and historicisation of performance art, proceeding in the Czech lands and Slovakia after 1989. If I speak here of ‘descent’, what I have in mind is literally a canon descending from the institutional structures of the former Western Bloc to the histories written in our national languages. After the year 2000 action art, long overlooked and marginalised by art scholarship, acquired publicity, representation at exhibitions and gallery collections, and also attention from the younger generation of art historians.
Two exhibitions which laid a paradigmatic foundation for academic interest in performance art from Eastern Europe were “Out of Actions” in MOCA, Los Angeles and “Body and the East” in Moderna Galerija, Ljubljana. The first instance gave an extremely distorted image of East European art, which the exhibition communicated principally in a Euroamerican context.17 In the second case there was an openly critical response to these oversimplifying distortions: what was presented was the model of an exhibition that would give equivalent voice to all localities in the territory of the former Eastern Bloc, and thus a platform was created for comparative research.18 Action art in the Czech and Slovak milieu has been mapped most extensively in publications by Pavlína Morganová, most recently Czech Action Art: Happenings, Actions, Events, Land Art, Body Art and Performance Art behind the Iron Curtain19 and the exhibition catalogue Umenie akcie / Action Art 1965–198920 (edited and co-authored by Zora Rusinová). Here even the cover reproduction brings stereotypes of national representation into play: Czech action art is represented by a bustling metropolitan square in an internationally recognised work by Jiří Kovanda (19 November, 1976. Prague, Wenceslas Square), while Slovak action art is represented by a spruce wood with smoke rising beneath the performer’s suspended body (Art Prospect P.O.P., Daring, 1981. Ľubietová). The selection of a mediatory work for a book’s cover says much about the ambitions posited in particular historical approaches. In fact, Czech and Slovak performers do not differ greatly in the ratios of urban and rural settings in their work; yet the reader’s mind is ineluctably drawn in two different directions even before they begin to leaf through the book. Why? Because the authors are not merely interpreting the local specifics of action art, they are also confirming the significance of action art in the context of a national story of art. Pavlína Morganová notes in her introduction that although the Czech and Slovak scenes were connected, they did not develop as one whole during the period of the unified state, and with the reconstruction of cultural history after 1989 both nations began to write separate versions of the Czechoslovak story.21 Zora Rusinová sees the Czechoslovak context differently: in the context of samizdat writings, secretly disseminated typewritten copies of translations of foreign works and articles relating to action art, which gave a marked stimulus to communication between the local scenes.22
These two publications diverge in many ways in their approach and organisation of the research material. Nonetheless, both of them justify the place of action art within an overall national story of modern art in an essentially similar manner. They both work with a strict division of the official and unofficial scenes, stressing the latter’s oppositional character vis-à-vis the repressive regime and showcasing the hybrid character of the works in the categories of western art. Equally, both publications have undoubtedly done fundamental heuristic work in exceptionally arduous terrain. Simultaneously, however, they have erected an interpretive framework for action art which treats art history as a national institution with a patriarchal hierarchy. At this point one must ask: is it possible to think in a different way of the historiography of action and performance types of art? Where can one see potential alternatives to this model of art historiography?
Agreed conventions of cultural practice are being questioned by critical artists from the territories of the former Eastern Bloc, and their challenge is connected with the methods and processes of archiving. The study of documents in the archives of artists such as Artpool, Goran Djordjević, Stano Filko, Tomislav Gotovac, Július Koller, KwieKulik, Mladen Stilinović, IRWIN, and Jiří Valoch, shows many similarities and divergences in the purposes the artists had when they resorted to self-archiving. Here I define the archive as a “para-institution”. That is because I conceive of the archive as an artistic instrument of self-historicising (which in many cases fuses with the artwork itself). The para-institution of the artist’s archive is designed for recording, presenting and diffusing ephemeral, often subversive activities, and it produces autonomous contexts. Artists’ archives often reflect the ideological apparatuses which direct culture, and they inscribe the artwork in history from the artist’s standpoint. That does not only mean that they put the artwork into circulation and communicate it to a limited circle of kindred spirits. Frequently the artist’s archive has a further role, involving an attempt to control the reception of the work in the local and international setting. Such an approach takes a number of levels of comparative research into account. Work at the varying levels of textual or pictorial documents demands a reevaluation of the relationship of original and copy and must reflect the documents’ modes of production and reproduction, and must also take into account their unique, unrepeatable arrangement in the artist’s archive.
One cannot reduce the artist’s archive exclusively to purposes of communication. With the deliberate multiplication and diffusion of documents, things come to a point where archival practices break free from the instrumentalisation, reification and commodification of the artwork. In Czechoslovakia post-1968, when artists shifted their activities to a non-institutional setting, documentation and archiving, together with self-historicising, became inseparably part of artistic practice. For this reason one can trace certain parallels in the practice of artists who distributed their works by post (Milan Adamčiak, Peter Bartoš, Ľubomír Ďurček, Stano Filko, Július Koller, Petr Štembera, Jiří Valoch, and others). The institutional-substitute framework was not merely the activities connected with networking and mail art: rather, for many artists these activities were combined with processes of self-historicising. The accumulation of records was facilitated by easy reproducibility, which itself carried the marks of authorial signature. Record-keeping was precisely structured and reflected in textual description; it took on the distinguishing marks of a private institution. For this generation of artists archiving represented an indispensable part of their work, comprising among other things a report on associations formed with the international milieu.
I will go on to describe the processes of self-historicising in the work of Július Koller (1939–2007), whose archive is the one I am most closely acquainted with. In this case work and archive are very closely interconnected: that part of the artist’s production which is now internationally distributed as individual artworks is only the jutting tip of an iceberg whose body remains submerged. The voluminous system of notes, documents and printed pieces becomes unmanageable if one does not know the logic of its arrangement. I am trying here to elucidate the complex link between work and archive by focusing on Koller as performer and defining the archive as the extended body of the artist. Consequently, the archive/extended body of the artist, dispersed in fragments of another medium and, as it were, in the limbs of his archival “body”, fulfils its futurological mission. In 1970 Koller launched his mechanism of designation, the Universal-cultural Futurological Operations – U.F.O. By a performative archive I understand the assembling of works, documents and other ephemera to form a system of language, where every individual record has its place. In this complex system every signifiant has its signifié, and often there are multiple designated entities. Accordingly, a concept is found in variable versions under a single name. To keep track of the broad range of his work, Koller began systematically writing chronological registers, which he gradually adapted and refined.23 His system of language enables us to appreciate the extensive range of his activities, working methods, interventions and records as part of the permanent linguistic activity defined by the artist, linking apparently divergent spheres of his work: painting, action, conceptual art.
A tropological reading of the archive, which I am proposing here, enables us to interpret, ex post in theory and practice, the figurative significances of the archive and to contextualise them anew in texts, exhibitions, lectures, and so forth. Comparative research of the rhetoric of images in broader cultural and political contexts could lead us to a study of the tropes that code the affects (pathos formulae) of conformity and defiance in the artist, and this might be an inspiring probe into cultural memory.24 Such a reading opens up the significances of the affects of conformity and defiance in the artist under a political regime that incessantly controls public space and the flow of information, as in the period of “normalisation” (1972–1989) in Czechoslovakia. Furthermore, it discloses the paradoxes of the artist’s private and public functioning and illuminates his libidinal energy, unconscious processes, delights and rages. Tropological reading creates new linkages between otherwise separate layers of the archive, and enables one to create a provisional depository, a visual apparatus where the relationships, inner tensions and contradictions of images are stressed.25 This further enables us to make soundings into selected motifs, or to lay out entire panoramas of the socialist world with its consumer life and technological optimism, or to make visible the subject of the covert, desire-filled observation of the former Western Bloc, which formed a number of layers over time.
One of the tropes of the archive, where an economy of libido is realised, is handwriting. To a large extent the landscape of Koller’s archive is inhabited by manuscript notes, and this applies above all the archive production from the years 1975–1985, which is written largely with blue ballpoint pen in standardised A5 school notebooks. At that time Koller was making a kind of personal library of manuscript copies from scholarly books, catalogues of international exhibitions and foreign art journals. Koller’s manuscript has a processual character on the one hand, because part of this notebook production labelled “Časo-pis” (U.F.O.), from the years 1981–1983, is a complete daily transcript of news reporting for every day in the year.26 On the other hand, we find here a privatisation of the international discourse on art, then absent from the public sphere, which is realised in the archive as a collection of copies (or, expressed in Koller’s term, “observations”), serving as training and confrontation with his own art practice. The breadth of cultural scope is truly astonishing: the journals Domus and Kunstwerk (transcriptions from selected issues from the years 1978–1985); the catalogues Documenta in Kassel and Biennale de Paris; catalogues of important exhibitions such as “When attitudes become form” (1969), “Westkunst” (1981); theoretical books and texts (diffused by samizdat) on action, conceptual and minimalist art.
Because Koller’s work has an improvised character of interventions, dialectical games and commentaries, the libidinal economy of his (hand)writing in numerous manifestos, notes in an endless flow, commentaries, copies and transcriptions, is not a complementary but rather a central aspect of his artistic practice. This extensive and heterogeneous set of manuscripts brings us to an autonomous context of self-history, which offers us not one but several narrative lines. Hence specifically the example of Koller’s archive, together with the archives of other artists of the former Eastern Bloc, is both a source and above all an instrument of non-reductive thinking about the legacy of the neo-avantgarde in this region. These alternative readings contained in the structure and arrangement of the archive may be of considerable help to unlearn the hierarchical methods that dictate the national story of art, and perhaps to define in a different way the position of East European artists in relation to the western canon of art.
Translated from the Slovakian by John Minahane
Daniel Grúň
Slovak Academy of Sciences, Bratislava
dangrun[a]gmail.com
1 Corina L. “Apostol, Self-archiving and redefining the purpose of visual thinking in Lia Perjovschi’s art” in Revista Arta, Nr. 20-21/VI, 2016, pp. 68-71.
2 Inke Arns, Sylvia Sasse, “Subversive Affirmation: On Mimesis as a Strategy of Resistance”, in IRWIN (ed.), East Art Map. Contemporary Art and Eastern Europe (London: Afterall Books, 2006), pp. 444-455.
3 Nataša Petrešin-Bachelez, “Innovative Forms of Archives, Part One. Exhibitions, Events, Books, Museums, and Lia Perjovschi’s Contemporary Art Archive”, in: e-flux journal, Nr. 13, 2010. Online: http://worker01.e-flux.com/pdf/article_111.pdf [1.05.2020].
4 Piotr Piotrowski, “How to Write a History of Central-East European Art?”, in: Third Text, Vol. 23, Nr. 1, January 2009, p. 8.
5 Ibid., p. 7.
6 Piotr Piotrowski, In the Shadow of Yalta. Art and the Avant-Garde in Eastern Europe, 1945-1989 (London: Reaktion Books, 2009), p. 26. Originally published as: Awangarda w Cieniu Jałty. Sztuka w Europie Środkowo-Wschodniej w latach 1945-1989 (Poznań: Rebis, 2005), p. 30.
7 Dipesh Chakrabarty, Postcoloniality and the Artifice of History, in: Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2000), p. 45.
8 Mária Orišková, “Curating Eastern Europe and Beyond. Art Histories through the Exhibition: An Introduction”, in Mária Orišková (ed.) Curating Eastern Europe and Beyond. Art Histories through the Exhibition (Bratislava / Frankfurt am Main: Veda, Peter Lang, 2013), pp. 12-13.
9 Jelena Vesić, “The Annual Summit of Non-Aligned Art Historians”, in Urška Jurman, Christiane Erharter, Rawley Grau (eds.), Extending the Dialogue (Ljubljana / Berlin / Vienna: Igor Zabel Award for Culture and Theory, Archive Books, ERSTE Foundation, 2016), p. 34.
10 Cristian Nae, “Retrospective Exhibitions and Identity Politics: The Capitalization of Criticality in Curatorial Accounts of Eastern European Art after 1989”, in Mária Orišková (ed.), Curating Eastern Europe and Beyond. Art Histories through the Exhibition (Bratislava / Frankfurt am Main: Veda, Peter Lang 2013), p. 52.
11 Igor Zabel, “Intimacy and Society: Post-communist or Eastern Art?” in Igor Španjol (ed.), Igor Zabel Contemporary Art Theory (Zurich: JRP Ringier 2012), p. 92.
12 Zdenka Badovinac, “Histories and Their Different Narrators”, in Christian Höller (ed.), L’Internationale - Post-War Avant-Gardes Between 1957 and 1986 (Zurich: JRP Ringier, 2012), p. 49.
13 Jiří Ševčík, “Archiv jako dílo umění, umění jako archivní výzkum” (“The Archive as Artwork, Art as Archival Research”), in Terezie Nekvindová (ed.), Jana Ševčíková - Jiří Ševčík, Texty (Praha: tranzit.cz/vvp avu 2010), pp. 355-356. The text originally appeared in (A)symetrické historie - zamlčené rámce a vytěsněné problem /(A)symmetrical Histories: Unmentioned Frameworks and Excluded Problems (Praha: VVP AVU, 2008), pp. 9-18.
14 Okwui Enwezor, “Archive Fever: Photography between History and the Monument”, in Archive Fever: Uses of the Document in Contemporary Art (New York-Göttingen: International Center of Photography, New York, and Steidl Publishers, 2008), pp. 11-51.
15 A first attempt at mapping Czech and Slovak action art and filling the empty space in art historiography after 1989 was Vlasta Čiháková-Noshiro, Věra Jirousová, Joska Skalník (eds.), Umění akce /Action Art, (Praha-Žilina: Únie výtvarných umělců Mánes, Považská galerie, 1991), exhibition catalogue.
16 Nae, cf. f.n. 11 above, p. 57
17 Kristine Stiles, “Uncorrupted Joy: International Art Action”, in Paul Schimmel, Russell Ferguson (eds.), Out of Actions: Between Performance and the Object, 1949–1979 (London: Thames and Hudson for MOCA − Los Angeles, 1998), p. 306.
18 Zdenka Badovinac (ed.) Body and the East (Cambridge, Mass. / London: MIT Press, 1998).
19 Pavlína Morganová, Czech action art: happenings, actions, events, land art, body art and performance art behind the iron curtain (Prague: Karolinum Press, 2014). This book is an updated and extended version of an older publication by Pavlína Morganová, Akční umění (Olomouc: Votobia, 1999).
20 Zora Rusinová (ed.) Umenie akcie / Action Art 1965-1989 (Bratislava: Slovenská národná galéria, 2001). This publication is the work of an authors’ collective: Gábor Hushegyi, Ivo Janoušek, Radislav Matuštík, Zora Rusinová, Tomáš Štraus.
21 “Both nations began to write increasingly separate versions of their cultural history, despite mapping a shared Czechoslovakian period and despite endeavors to integrate both cultural fields.” Pavlína Morganová, Czech Action Art: Happenings, Actions, Events, Land Art, Body Art and Performance Art behind the Iron Curtain (Prague: Karolinum Press, 2014), p. 19.
22 Zora Rusinová, “Interpretačné a kontextuálne aspekty umenia akcie na Slovensku” / “Interpretive and Contextual Aspects of Action Art in Slovakia”, in Zora Rusinová (ed.) Umenie akcie / Action Art 1965-1989 (Bratislava: Slovenská národná galéria, 2001), p. 7.
23 Note, p. 34 in Daniel Grúň, Kathrin Rhomberg, Georg Schöllhammer (eds.) Július Koller One Man Anti Show (Köln - Wien: Verlag der Buchhandlung Walter König, Museum Moderner Kunst Stiftung Ludwig, 2016).
24 Giorgio Agamben, “Aby Warburg and the Nameless Science”, in: Potentialities. Collected Essays in Philosophy (Stanford/California: Stanford University Press, 1999), p. 91.
25 Johannes Porsch, Július Koller: Tropology, artist’s book.
26 In all probability Koller used the term /concept Časo-pis as directly equivalent in meaning to the German Zeit-schrift. Sometimes he used the complementary term Časo-akcia. These concepts indicate that he saw his manuscript work as performative, as an action set out and realized in time.
Daniel Grúň is Associate Professor of Theory and the History of Modern and Contemporary Art at the Slovak Academy of Sciences, and lecturer at the Academy of Fine Arts and Design in Bratislava. Július Koller. One Man Anti Show (ed. with Kathrin Rhomberg and Georg Schöllhammer, Köln: Walther König 2016), Tomáš Štrauss: Beyond the Great Divide – Essays on European Avant Gardes from East to West (ed. with Henry Meyric Hughes and Jean-Marc Poinsot, Paris: AICA Press 2020), Subjective Histories. Self-historicization as Artistic Practice in Central-East Europe (Veda: Bratislava 2020).
Grúň, Daniel. 2020. “Processes of Self-Historicisation in East European Art.” Sandra Frimmel, Tomáš Glanc, Sabine Hänsgen, Katalin Krasznahorkai, Nastasia Louveau, Dorota Sajewska, Sylvia Sasse (eds.). 2020. Doing Performance Art History. Open Apparatus Book I. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.17892/app.2020.0000.186
URL: http://www.apparatusjournal.net/
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