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Please direct any questions about this website or about Jacki Apple’s artistic legacy to Ms Emily Waters, Archivist at jackiapplearchive@gmail.com
Enquiries about the Jacki Apple Award from Los Angeles residents should be addressed directly to LACE and from New York residents to Franklin Furnace.
Transformance: Claudia explored the relationship between media images of women and our own self-images in terms of power and beauty. In addition to the two artists, the participants in the six hour
event included four women, a man who was an influential television producer, and two photographers.
Claudia was a collaborative composite of the "ideal" woman. She had both glamour, sex appeal, and intelligence, and an air of independence, authority and self-assurance. Each of the performers
brought her own private fantasies into her individual interpretation and representation of Claudia. However, despite the vast range of physical characteristics of the performers, a common esthetic emerged -- hats with veils, furs, lacquered nails, high heeled shoes, elegant dresses, it was an image portrayed in movies, particularly those of the 1940s, and fashion magazines, outwardly contrary to
the new feminist doctrine of the time.
Despite the feminist intent in our examination of issues of image and identity, Transformance: Claudia became the subject of controversy within that community. While our appearance would seem to suggest that we were being manipulated by our culture, in actuality we were manipulating elements from that culture to our own ends. Thus the collective habitation of this personna became the embodiment of power and autonomy as the result of our control over how the
Images were employed and to what ends.
As a body art work it stood out in sharp contrast to the cathartic gestural work of both fundamentalist feminists and male conceptualists. As "glamour feminists" appropriating media imagery, we created a prototype for postmodern feminists of the next generation in the 80s. In retrospect, the Claudia piece was the precursor to Madonna's manipulation of and total control over her public image and personna in the representation of power, glamour, and sexuality. It is ironic that twenty five years later the "look" and style of Madonna's Eva Peron in the film Evita comes full
circle back to our fictional Claudia.
The performance demonstrated how image defines identity in both private and public arenas, and no one knew in advance how it would unfold or what
exactly would be revealed. In the performers investigation of such questions as "Does beauty equal power? And if so, what kind of power? What kind of image represents power and is the woman who exudes an image of power desirable?", the response of the unsuspecting viewer in several different public environments
acted as a mirror. Those responses were equally affected by context - that is,
inside or outside the frame of art and the art world.
Uptown, lunching at the Palm Court of the Plaza Hotel, our "celebrity" status was unquestioned. We were stared at, whispered about, fawned over, and approached for autographs by the very young and the very old. When we emerged from a limousine at 420 West Broadway in the heart of Soho and made our way en masse through the galleries, the question was not who were we, but rather, what were we doing. An ironic twist occurred in the context of an exhibition of photo-documentation of Gilbert & George's performances, where we were accused by the gallery director of being engaged in an "unauthorized" performance. As if performance art activities and their various transgressions were
sanctioned and embraced by the art establishment of 1973!
"Good evening, We're the Jap Commandos. Welcome to America. In this song we'd like to introduce you to a few of our national heroes, those great men whom we have chosen to shape our destiny, the defenders of our national honor, and the American Dream. Meet the General with the Hiroshima Hots."
The general's got his stars,
A man of dubious reknown,
Cruising in the leather bars,
The backs of cars,
In all those good American towns.
Looking for a nuclear romance,
He dreams of missiles in the sky.
The general takes his stance,
Hands into his pants,
While the masses get their chance to die.
Chorus
He's got the Hiroshima hots,
He's got the Nagasaki trots,
(Repeat)
The President goes on TV,
Frank Sinatra croons a tune,
Johnny Carson is MC
For the Moral Majority,
The General smiles and shoots a moon.
The President presents his plan
Right-to-lifers stomp and cheer,
Shouting 'Be a man'
Join the Klan.
The General takes it in the rear.
Chorus
Nuclear proliferation'
Radiation and mutation,
The latest neutron deviation.
Produces mental vegetation,
Inter-ballistic masturbation
Carcinogenic aberation,
Meet the leaders of the nation,
Greet the new Administration.
They've got the Hiroshima hots,
They've got the Nagasaki trots.
(Repeat)
I'm gonna shoot you dead,
Gonna shoot you dead'
For the things you did,
And the things you said.
I'm gonna shoot you dead,
Get you outta my head,
out of my head,
Gonna shoot you dead,
shoot you dead.
Dead, dead, dead, DEAD.
You took me to bed,
And you made me high,
And you made me sigh,
And you made me cry.
And when I asked you why,
All you did was lie,
Now you're gonna die,
Die, die, die, DIE.
I'm gonna shoot you dead,
Get you outta my head.
For the things you did,
And the things you said.
Gonna shoot you dead,
You're just too much,
With your tender touch,
Your sexy smile,
An your little boy style.
You took my love, one fine day,
Sucked it up, and walked away,
Now you're gonna pay,
And pay, an pay, an PAY!
I'm gonna shoot you dead,
Gonna shoot you dead,
Get you outta my head,
Gonna shoot you dead,
For the things you did,
And the things you said,
When you left my bed.
I'm gonna shoot you dead.
I'm gonna blow out your brain,
For all of the pain,
You left behind, fuckin my mind.
I'm gonna cut out your heart,
And tear it apart,
For the things you did,
And the things you said,
For the way I've bled.
I'm gonna shoot you DEAD.
I'm gonna shoot you dead,
Get you outta my head,
Gonna shoot you dead,
All you did was lie,
Now you're gonna die,
Gonna shoot you dead,
Dead, dead, dead, DEAD.
Chorus
Travelin fast, shedding the past,
Changan the rules.
You open your eyes
To the morning bews
What a surprise.
Last night's revolution
Caught in the chain of evolution
Is turning cold, growin old,
Fading in the morning light.
Overnight, your solution's
Been bought and sold,
Rearranged and wrapped
in cellophane. It's all too plain.
In spite of your resistence
Standard existence has taken hold.
Verse 2
Verse 3
Musicians: Genie Sherman, Voice; Akua Dixon, Voice and Cello; Ursula Oppens, Dave Burrell, Keyboards: Rolf Schulte, Gayle Dixon, Violin; Byard Lancaster, Reeds; Carla Poole, Flute; Sadiq Abdu Shahid, Percussion; Mel Graves, Bass, Garrett List, Trombone.