Sex and noise and Neoism

>> Artcrime mastermind Istvan Kantor unveils his Machine Sex Action Group at Elektra

by CHRIS BARRY

One wacky Hungarian can sure talk a lot of shit.

Say what you will about Istvan Kantor, aka Monty Cantsin, but the guy is committed and comes up with more creative ideas in one week than most other people do in their lifetimes. Reviled by many, considered a joke by many more, Istvan has nevertheless, over the course of his 35-year career, developed a worldwide flock of admirers. They both share his vision and celebrate him endlessly for being the grand poobah of the International Neoist conspiracy, an avant-garde art movement that he founded in Montreal back in 1979. Pop singer, performance artist, auteur and good old-fashioned agent provocateur, Istvan was all the rage on the Montreal art/music scene in the early '80s. In 1985 he relocated to New York City, to work among the Rivington School and become "the self-appointed leader of the Lower East Side."

Eventually chased out of the U.S. for his criminal art activities, he now lives in Toronto and is involved in a new performance art project he calls the Machine Sex Action Group. Their current presentation, Axiom/E, "reveals Istvan Kantor's Neoist panorama-vision of technological takeover: a hyper-utopian landscape dominated by monuments of information storage machinery and ruled by computer controlled body-machines." Istvan's unique vision, whatever the hell it may be, is communicated through the use of interactive video transmission, gang-banging file cabinets, body-machine action, and a big old machine-beat sound mix. The Mirror spoke to Mr. Kantor over the phone from Toronto earlier this week to try and get a handle on what's going down in the old nutbar's head.



Mirror: I've always detected a trace of humour in your work. I don't know if you'll appreciate this, but the Monty Cantsin performances I've borne witness to have generally made me laugh--but I always feel very conspicuous doing so.

Istvan Kantor: Well, of course there is a lot of humour in what I do but not so much ha-ha-ha, fall-down-laughing comedy. It's more sarcastic. It's black humour.

M: Do you find that a lot of people tend to miss this element of your work?

IK: Not really. Those who are closely involved with the Neoist conspiracy definitely understand the full meaning and humour of what I do.

M: Neoism strikes me as borrowing fairly heavily from the European Dadaists of the 1920s. But it's my understanding that you've always denied this. Is there something that I'm missing in my interpretation of the Neoist "philosophy"?

IK: At the start of Neoism, we completely denied any connection to any other events or art movements because we wanted to pretend that it was completely new and had never been done before. But yes, we were definitely inspired by Dada and the Situationists. It's not so important to deny it anymore. Neoism is only 25 years old and we now have our own history which has created a bigger distance from all those previous movements.



Framed!

M: So can you describe in layman's terms what exactly Neoism is?

IK: Well, no one is supposed to know what Neoism is and I don't think anybody does, including myself. The success of Neoism is basically in the question, "What is Neoism?" because everybody wants to know. There are millions of definitions and none of them are good for anything. But you could define it by saying Neoism is what makes Neoism more interesting than Neoism. Or you could say that Neoism is that which makes Neoism obsolete.

M: Silly me, it's all so clear now. Thanks. Hey, do you think it's still possible, in the 21st century, to subvert the dominant culture through art?

IK: Absolutely. Of course, there are all sorts of levels of subversion but it is always possible. I have criminal records in many countries.

M: Yeah, for barfing on paintings in art galleries or something, right?

IK: No, but you're in the right direction. Me, I do the blood. I splash my blood on the walls of museums and sometimes the blood happens to land on different artworks. The whole idea of using blood in performance art has a tradition. A lot of artists were using blood in the 1960s, like the Vienna Actionists. I'm not really into it for ritualistic performance, the ironical aspect of it was always more important to me. But I don't want to dwell on that aspect of my work too much. It sometimes feels like I've never done anything else. The blood performance idea was just one of many things I've done, however it sometimes seems like this is the only thing that anyone remembers. I'm very vain, you know, and right now I'm coming out with some new, bright, very witty ideas that are going to completely blow the minds of everybody."

M: Have you done much prison time for your artistic vision?

IK: Some.

M: How many times have you been in jail?

IK: Not too many. Maybe a dozen times.

M: That sounds like a lot to me. Probably more time than most people have spent in jail for the sake of art. How does it go over with the other prisoners when they ask you what you're in for?

IK: It's really funny when I'm in a cell with 20 other criminals and everyone is telling their stories. Most of them are there for stealing or other petty crimes and when I tell my story they really don't understand. They ask me why I didn't just steal the painting or why I didn't run away right after my crime. They simply can't understand why I would commit a criminal act and just stick around afterwards.

M: Do you ever simply explain to them that you're rebelling against the oppressive art establishment and that through your actions the proletariat will once again rise and reclaim the culture that has been appropriated and so callously denied them by the bourgeoisie?

IK: (politely, a little confused) Um, yeah, it's always a kind of funny situation when I get arrested.



Busking, dusting and plundering

M: What is the nature of the performance you will be doing this week at the Elektra festival?

IK: The new piece explores the human body and technology--the body as machine and the technology that invades the body and takes over. It's a very interactive performance that incorporates lots of activity, sound and sex.

M: Sex! Now you're talking. How does sex come in to it?

IK: Basically, all the movements, the body actions of the six performers of the piece--all the gestures, all the body actions of this piece relate to sexuality. Pelvic strokes, convulsions and so on. It's a very kinetic, very ecstatic, high-speed performance.

M: How do you respond to people who might choose to criticize your work for being pretentious?

IK: Well, the whole idea of art could probably be considered pretentious. All art has that aspect to it. But such is the nature of the game. I know I've certainly accused other artists of being pretentious.

M: You started out in the mid-'60s singing folk songs in Hungary and later supported yourself as a busker in Paris. Do you ever think about dumping all this artsy gobbledygook and going back to your roots singing Pete Seeger and Judy Collins numbers for spare change?

IK: Well, basically I'm a singer and you know, I actually do wonder sometimes why I bother to make art when it's so much easier just to sing songs. Singing has always been a very important part of my life. But I still do it. I just put out an album last year of songs I wrote to the words of Hungarian poet Endre Ady. It's called Heap of Dreams.

M: Has anybody bought it?

IK: Oh no, it's not selling at all. I made it in Hungary. Oh, maybe it's selling a bit. I don't know. It's in some stores.

M: So how do you get by for money? When not creating subversive art, are you washing dishes somewhere or working as some university professor's teaching assistant?

IK: (laughing) No, no. I support myself solely through my various criminal activities--I mean my art. I definitely try to survive this way but it is very hard. It means I have to do many different things because it certainly wouldn't be possible to live on the money I get from performances like the one I will be doing in Montreal this week. These things always cost a lot of money to put on and you don't really ever make any money with it. But I always seem to get by one way or another. I give lectures, do workshops, just whatever I can to get by. And no, I haven't had to do any dishwashing lately, but I've certainly done that sort of work over the years. When I first came to Montreal from Europe I was working as a cleaning lady and then later I was employed doing factory work. I've done all of those things.

M: A cleaning lady, eh? Do you think your work and the Neoist art movement will be well-remembered by future generations?

IK: Yes, I expect that thousands of books will be written on it. Definitely. I still identify heavily with Neoism but you should know that I don't devote all my time to being a Neoist leader, organizing Neoist festivals and that sort of thing. I'm just doing my own artwork, working in different directions, and I'm not all that militant about being a Neoist anymore. I'm trying to get away from that to an extent and evolve into something else. That said, I am, of course, still working on finishing volume six of the Book of Neoism, which will be the final volume. It's something I've been working on for 20 years. It's a large piece of work that involves millions of definitions of Neoism. It's a plunder book. I keep collecting new definitions of Neoism and the book is essentially an endless stream of definitions.

M: Wow! I bet publishers are falling all over each other trying to pick up the rights to that sure-fire bestseller.

IK: (laughing) No, not really.



As part of Elektra at Usine C (1345 Lalonde) on Friday, Nov. 9, 9pm, $15 ($10 students)