was originally four colors used to describe one’s mindset during a lethal confrontation: white, yellow, orange, and red.) The “Color Codes” allow her to achieve this gradual, immersive experience, beginning with the white section of the performance, which represents being unaware or inattentive. Here the gallery is brightly lit and Marcela performs a dance that demonstrates elements of Muay Thai form, showing how the martial art can be used for selfdefense and as a way to inflict violence. She also reads a series of monologues in between repetitions of the dance, reciting for her audience: “The combatant was not an isolated individual: his actions were taken on behalf of the nation, a hierarchical military establishment, and an intimate, interdependent platoon—this was what distinguished martial combat from murder...”
The intensity builds as the performance enters the red section, which represents a definitive lethal threat. Marcela, her voice a riotous shout, recites from memory the lyrics of American hip hop duo Mobb Deep’s “Survival of the Fittest.” “There’s a war goin’ on outside no man is safe from. You could run but you can’t hide forever...” The use of the song shifts the audience’s attention to how urban communities may often be forced into survival mode to act in different ways. Cooper’s “Color Code” becomes a means of understanding how living in a constant state of fear – whether orange or red –causes people to act with a different code of ethics than other communities living under white or yellow.
Marcela takes off her tan, desert camo pants and wraps them around the body bag. She cradles it for a minute before crawling towards the crowd, dragging the bag behind her. She rubs her sweaty body against audience members. Some back away, their panicked, repulsed expressions detectable in the dark. Others gently touch her shoulders or back. Eventually, she finds a lap to sit in, asking to use their cell phone as a light so that she can read a final text. When I ask Marcela about this portion of the performance, she says “meekness or asking for help can be really disgusting to people.” Our instinctive reactions as audience members are revealed. Do we offer assistance or comfort? Do we revile her? Do we look for a way to escape? We have lost control of the situation.
During this monologue, Marcela alludes to the title Agentic Mode, exploring how individuals can commit gruesome, horrific acts on behalf of a nation exploiting nationalistic beliefs to trigger them to act in primal self-defense. Next comes the yellow section – alert, but still relaxed, no immediate threat. The lighting changes. Marcela creates hand symbols and movements referencing guns and fight techniques before the room goes dark for the orange section, where an immediate potential threat is acknowledged. “I wanted [the audience] to feel a little trapped,” Marcela says about the dramatic lighting change. At this point, viewers are likely feeling unnerved, perhaps a little claustrophobic at just how close they are to the unfolding performance. Marcela begins punching the boxing bags she built herself. They are embedded with microphones and attached to loop and reverb pedals that record and distort each strike to form a cacophonous soundscape that reverberates through the gallery.
PERFORMANCE STILL OF AGENTIC MODE AT EXPLODE! QUEER DANCE: MIDWEST. IMAGE CREDIT: AL EVANGELISTA.
Bathed in crimson light, Marcela straddles the vaguely human-shaped body bag, walloping it over and over again. She hits it for as long as she can while the uproarious, looped sounds continue to ricochet throughout the gallery, reaching a deafening crescendo. The room goes black and the sound continues for several moments before disappearing completely. The last section of the performance has begun.
The relentless pace and length of Agentic Mode feels like an exercise in endurance, intended to exhaust both Marcela as well as her audience. However, Marcela adds that the shape of her work has also been determined by career pressures. She jokes she wasn’t getting as much gallery attention earlier in her career, explaining how she realized she needed to make a performance “at least 30–40 minutes to be on the bill by itself.” She adds that there must be objects incorporated as well in order to call it an exhibition. Summer 2020 | CGN | 43
