a reoccurring series of performance art presented by A/G/A
What Would DaDa Say To Your Mother?
Dada is dead, chocked on ideology, having gone beyond need. Now we need your attention. Four or five minutes at a time with all the legitimacy of a speakeasy, earned in secrecy and force of will.
The Cabaret Cabaret started with Collin and I being so bored one winter night we decided to throw something together for ourselves and our friends. Together. And so far, so well. Ten months! Nine more than we expected, certainly. Ten months and as many sets of dishes, glassware and chairs broken in spirit and body. Every time it’s “should we do this again?” and “the show must go on!” We are very discriminating.
We haven’t any specific politics; this affair is one of action, disruption, pleasure. In that we are political. Our politics are the product of our need. We want to show and attack and scream and scream. If we want to operate delicately on ourself, excavate and sift, we do. Out pleasure, our disruption, as it relates to a whole we imagine, is our primacy. We need this to explode ourselves.
Our point is that there is a relevancy to the events an and surrounding Zurich of 1916-1919. Towards encased nonsense! Towards irrelevant ballyhoo! Any space we occupy must be compromised. No desecration even possible.
Something is relevant in the gestures and course of Dada. We look back on past nullification, on the complete rejection insisted upon, on the utter negation and say yes yes yes. Nothing makes any sense, we don’t want it to. We’re just dealing with still being alive.
We love you and hate ourselves and we will always, always come first. We hate you and love our brilliance and demand that you see it while we don’t care if you get it. It’s not our fault. Enjoy our thrashing We love you.
Joshua Roginsky, December 2012