PRINT Summer 2018



Yve Laris Cohen, P.S. 122, 2018. Performance view, Performance Space New York, March 7, 2018. From left: Yve Laris Cohen, Karen Eubel, Andrew Glass, Robin Tewes. On scaffold: Dominick Guida. Photo: Julieta Cervantes.

“ARROGANT ASSHOLE,” spits a man, not realizing that the words and their inflection do more to indict speaker than subject. Their target is, ostensibly, Yve Laris Cohen, the artist. We are sitting in the middle of Laris Cohen’s performance P.S. 122 (2018) on opening night, and I wish everyone would shut up.

Laris Cohen spends most of P.S. 122 stationed far upstage. The work’s title conjures the previous name of the hosting venue, which has recently been rebranded, to an admixture of chagrin and nostalgia, as Performance Space New York. He abandons this post only occasionally—in this instance, he has just done so at a purposive speed-walk, in an attempt to intercept the audience member who moments later will call him an asshole. The clamoring man had cut through the performance area and marched in front of rows of spectators, all because he wanted something he couldn’t quite

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