It was finally time to go there...
Performance Art has fuzzy definitions. It can be anything from picking up the garbage to crawling around naked in a tunnel of Vaseline. Most of the time, I think to myself, "yeah, sure, I could do that. I might have to burn my clothing and bathe in turpentine afterward, but I could do that." Well, being a Flatulist, an artist of flatulence and temporal bowel control, is something that will always be out of my grasp (God willing... I really do not want to go down in history as 'fart girl').
There is a long and illustrious history of performance f***art in Western Culture. Think back to your Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Ancient Lit, don't you remember mention of farters being the life of the party (don't look!! My inner nerd is showing!!)? This tradition was carried on into Court life; the king always had a professional f***artist on hand. And more recently, the artist known as Le Pétomane (pictured here) thrilled Parisians at the Moulin Rouge. Just think of it: this guy on stage and Toulouse-Lautrec passed out on absinthe sitting next to you... must have been one heck of a time.
Contemporary F*artists include:
Mr. Methane
That guy on your freshmen floor
Don't believe me? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Professional_farter
(bonus points to anyone who knows the name of the movie where a Le Pétomane was GOV)
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