John Fare: The Story of Missing Parts
Have you ever heard of John Fare? Or John Charles Faré? Don’t be
mislead - it is the same person. First time I heard of him was at a dinner in
2002 in New York. His story, or what I would call ‘the story of missing parts,’
was extremely bizarre: supposedly John Fare was a wealthy, and perhaps
psychotic, artist who rose to infamy in the 60s after he contacted a
cybernetics and robotics expert who helped him construct a programmable
operating table with randomizing auto surgery. At various performances throughout Europe and Canada, Fare
was supposed to have had numerous body parts lopped off and replaced with
bizarre plastic decorations, each crude precursors of the now-standard
flesh/hardware interface. The legend goes that, between 1964 and 1968, Fare was
lobotomized, lost one thumb, two fingers, eight toes, one eye, both testicles,
his right hand and several random patches of skin. As you may have predicted, a
robot-assisted-suicide was his ultimate performance.
1971 was the year when Lee Lozano did her Drop-out piece and left
New York. She died in 1999 in Dallas and since then her Google hits are only
rising. The same counts for John Fare: every day there are more hits on Internet
on him including the article in The Guardian
[iv]
on Gregor
Schneider, “an avid admirer of a Canadian called John Fare who removed various
bits of his body in a slow and bloody process of auto-amputation.” Actually,
German-speaking performance art scholars seem to be particularly keen on
exploring John Fare’s story and his Amputationsmaschine. There are a number
of attempts to relate him to the body art of the 60s
[v]
,, to contextualise
within the framework of an industrial culture
[vi]
, or to trace back
his predecessors to the sacrifice culture of Christian martyrs
[vii]
. On the other hand,
a British music journalist recounts, “Fare cuts an eccentric figure. He wears
trousers made from zips and has a diagram of a brain tattooed onto his shaven
scalp. The performance artist paced his left hand on a chopping board with the
fingers spread. Fare’s assistant, Jill Orr, is partially sighted and she
slammed an axe between her boyfriend’s pinkies with increasing speed.
Eventually the axe severed Fare’s little finger. This was the end of the
performance art element within the evening’s entertainment”
[viii]
. Doubtless to say
it is a mere impersonation of John Fare in the concert of Nocturnal Emissions
[ix]
that took place in
London in 1997, but it only confirms the stubborn elusiveness of his
mystery.
Do you think that the robot-assisted-suicide act was indeed the
last piece by John Fare? How was he able to disappear and where did he go? How
many times did he try quit making art? Remember when Sadam was still on the run
and US troops were unable to find him in 2003? Thomas Y. Levin proclaimed that “Saddam
has successfully disappeared into media.” It was a paradox, but this
contradictory nature of not-being-here-since-being-everywhere is the driving
logic for the culture of disappearance. A number of years before Sadam became
the star of the show that was his last piece with a rope, Michel Foucault was
underlining
[xii]
the impossibility
of the act of disappearing or dying in the modern State: State and market (and
their marriage confirmed by a Catholic Church so perfectly in the case of
Piergiorgio Welby
[xiii]
) will not grant you
the right to exit as far as you are productive and useful. Yet the truth is
that you don’t have to be alive to be productive. “Death means a lot of money,
honey” Andy’s words are relevant as ever. He knew what he was talking about:
logistics of post-mortem affairs of dead artists and celebrities is a lucrative
business
[xiv]
. Therefore Lee
Lozano actually didn’t die, she has become an undead, like Bas Jan Ader, and
disappeared into market.
John Fare is also undead. Perhaps this was his price for the
achievement of the total unity of life and art. So far I haven’t come across
any of his works, it seems nothing survived his last act, or at least have been
attributed to him. I also never met this trickster who is proven to have been
alive only because of the nature of his death. But the fact that his story has
become a collective property made me think that perhaps this was his intention—to
become a part of us and to test our abilities in knowledge production as we
speak about him.
Raimundas Malašauskas
[v]
Schröder, Johannes Lothar. Identität - Überschreitung -
Verwandlung. Happenings, Aktionen und Performances von bildenden Künstlern.
Münster: LIT, 1990
[xii]
Foucault, M. Lezione undicesima, 17 marzo 1976 in Bisogna
difendere la società. Feltrinelli. Milano, 1998
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