I am always late for work. There. I've said it. And the frustrating thing is that my lateness isn't caused by traffic or some unpredictable morning disaster. Most of the time, it is entirely my own doing. I wake up and make my coffee. Then I get back into bed, which is right by the window, cross my feet, face the window and slowly sip my coffee. And when I say slowly, I mean slowly. I look at the trees. I watch the birds. I feel the morning sun on my skin. Sometimes I just sit there with my thoughts. I really love these mornings. I've also noticed something else. When I give myself enough time in the morning, my body usually does what it needs to do. A slow morning often leads to a bowel movement, which, as far as I'm concerned, is one of the must-haves of starting my day. And so I find myself wishing for more time. More time to sit. More time to drink my coffee. More time to maybe get outside and do some yoga or mat Pilates on the grass while the sun is stil...
In 1974, Marina Abramović performed Rhythm 0 — a haunting six-hour piece that would later be remembered as one of the most disturbing social experiments in the history of performance art. She placed herself in a gallery in Naples, Italy, standing still next to a table with 72 objects. Some were harmless (a rose, a feather, bread); others were violent (a whip, a knife, a loaded gun). She allowed the audience to use any object on her however they wished. She took full responsibility for whatever would happen. She would not resist. At first, the crowd was gentle. They posed her. Kissed her. Gave her flowers. But as time passed, they became bolder. They cut her clothes. Pricked her skin. Marked her with a knife. Someone loaded the gun and placed it in her hand, pointing it at her neck. The crowd, once made up of ordinary people, had slowly turned into something else. When the six hours ended, Marina began to walk toward the audience — no longer a passive object, but a human again. People ...