sometimes when you want to make a photo of a trash bin, you can catch the rainbow

Last post should be about Marina Abramovic but spontaneously it was about THIS morning. I should write something about what Marina did and how it is important to art but I won’t. Often I wonder about if something is art or not, it is common question in modern art. There is so much actions in art that average person can just repeat, some of them are available also for chimpanzees, and some even for my cat. So what make someone who is rubbing his forehead an artist when in the same time millions of people are doing the same thing?
Artist is the person who doesn’t work, who just live.
Rubbing his forehead will be meaningful only if he will prove by his life that it is not a regular action. That whole his life is about rubbing a forehead. That whole his primary school he was noticing only people rubbing their forehead, and he was recording a pieces of movies on the tape whit people rubbing their forehead.
Why am I writing this? Because there are so many artists who I really love but I often have so many doubts about if their works are artworks or just a precisely prepared provocation. There is only few people who I am sure they are honest and real.
One of them is Marina.
She has no boundaries between her life and her art. She made her first performance when she was seven. When she was in relationship with Ulay she was doing an artworks with him, when they broke up they turned it in to art (they walked whole way through the great wall just to say good bye). When she cooking a soup for a dinner is as real as her cutting a star with knife on her belly( I wonder how the scars look like after all this years)Everything she does, she does because she feels she must do it, it is her life.
That's why when she just sits in the gallery,
without blood, knifes, bones and all the stuff
I trust her because it is for real.

By the way, Ulay went to MOMA and sat next to Marina first time since they broke up on the great wall, and she grabed his hand.