Flux is an artistic movement, an expression of challenging what is art, what is performance. Every year, some of the talented music students on this campus create a flux performance, a flux night. An event of performance and music like you've never seen before. I was there to support my friends and get lost in the madness. It challenged me more than I could have ever imagined. This is my front row experience.
It’s hard to describe what I just saw. I felt uncomfortable at times but I was told that was all part of the experience. Flux art and music challenges the performer and the audience to ask themselves what art is and how it is expressed.
I respect my fellow Miamians for embarking on such a cool journey and had no idea what my front row seat had in store for me. I’ll share with you some of my favorite performance pieces from a night of many. Let’s start with the Nivea Cream experience.
Nivea Cream, for those who don’t know, is a lotion. It comes in a jar, its rather thick in nature; you don’t need much to get the job done. So when Tommy grabbed a handful of this lotion, coating his hands to a point where they looked like bird poop and started rubbing his hands together, I got scared, intrigued and weirdly aroused. Several seconds into the performance, as Tommy rubbed the lotion, creating sounds with his hands smacking together, he snaps forwards and claps two times. Sharply and with force, the cream splatters all over his shirt, which was conveniently purple.
Soon two others join him on stage, scooping lotion out of the jar and battling Tommy with the sounds they could create with the lotion and their hands. Tommy would clap twice and cream would fly — and they would be dismissed. I saw him after the show and he was still covered in Nivea Cream.
Another favorite was "South #1," "South #2" and "South #3." Performed by Loren Reash-Henz, the Southern compositions featured the word “south” many times, spoken over and over by Loren. He would change inflection, going from happy to manic, from incredibly loud to almost inaudible. It was straight up impressive. As he moved through the compositions, he moved throughout the room, infiltrating the audience, stepping over members, while still repeating that same word. After the show, someone pointed out that he was spelling “south” and he went through the audience. He made his while through the aisles and the seats to spell it out. I was disturbed, but at the same time I wanted to cast him in a movie Hollywood would’ve cast Jim Carrey in the 90s. Impressive work.
My last favorite was "Danger Music #2" performed by Will Meriwether and Laura Moak. They came out, set a table up, grabbed a stack of paper from the piano and threw them into the audience. Will sat down in a chair facing the audience; he unbuttoned the top button on his shirt, loosened his tie and placed a handkerchief where the button had been. Laura had a top hat on the table and proceeded to get a pair of scissors out of the hat, Will had an incredible beard. It was Portlandia meets a lumberjack. He had been growing it out for months. She began to cut. The audience grimaced in shock, they cheered in awe, as pieces of beard fell onto the wooden table. Once she had it trimmed up, she got an electric razor out of the hat. She began to trim, shifting sides of the table, her black pumps skipping across the stage until all he had was a manicured mustache. They put everything back into the hat and stood up. We applauded, whooped, and cheered. Will’s mother was right behind me and she stood up and cheered “Bravo!” I guess she was happy to see the beard go. I would have to side with his mother on that one. I also agree with her, bravo, not only for that work, but all the pieces that night. Great work by all involved. I’ve never seen anything like that, and I don’t know if I ever will.
