#21: More than just peachy for AuntyNazi!

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#20: AuntyNazi explore possibility of brand division!

(Article taken from ARTimes’ Jrnl.ssn.2.iss.10 with permission)

In the aftermath of AuntyNazi Phase XIV: Oozing the Spill, Chick which took place last month at Nick Turner’s Nottingham hip-spot The Chameleon, performance art duo AuntyNazi find themselves faced with a dilemma. Luke “Anwar” Ferrit and Daniel Oliver have finally reached the fork in the road that they’ve been travelling down since their debut in 2002. Which path will they choose? The answer, they say, is possibly both. Despite being notoriously secretive when it comes to discussing their work and methods, the two faceless friends spoke openly with ARTimes' Jrnl., albeit with their masks on, about the future of AuntyNazi in what became the most difficult interview I had ever done.


“Back in the day you either had your mask on or you had it off. Everybody knew where they stood. When you’d really got it on, the punter stood a little further back than when you didn’t. Nowadays you’ve got your old performance art lot who are all sporting perms and babushkas and giving up coffee in the name of Live Art and you have your younger lot, the Attitude Generation, who are increasingly demanding the more rough-house style of performance and you feel like you’re caught in the middle busting for the lag without a shilling” explained Luke “Anwar” Ferrit.
“So where do you see AuntyNazi coming from?” I asked.
“Well, Nottingham really, I think that’s fairly obvious” replied Luke in a sincere tone.
“Where are we going?” asked Daniel Oliver.
“It’s green and red. The writing’s red. Jude, keep your eyes out”, stressed Luke.
“How far are we going?” asked Daniel Oliver.

To clarify, at their insistence the interview was taking place in a car. Two days following their performance of Phase XIV, still in Nottingham, they’d surprisingly agreed to meet me for an interview. Having missed my change at Hope in Derbyshire, been given the runaround by National Rail, I was delighted to hear that I was being taken for the best Sunday lunch in Nottingham available on a Wednesday afternoon, which according to Luke “Anwar” Ferrit can be found at a place called The Limes (“Truckers and couples with dogs in the car go. The waitresses are large and honest” exclaimed Luke prior to me getting into the car with them).

Jude (their assistant?) had been driving in basic silence for 20 minutes. Luke had been to The Limes a number of times, but seemed slightly too keen to check at every petrol garage we passed to see if anyone had heard of The Limes, which they had not… Daniel Oliver continued to reassure me that it really was apparently great food. They were squashed in either side of me on the back seat. It was unclear as to whether the front passenger seat was reserved for a mystery guest or if they simply lavished the body contact. I felt it better not to ask. My notes, questions and dictaphone were in my bag which Daniel had positioned on the front passenger seat. Charming though they both were, I couldn’t help thinking, knowing their reputation, that my bag had been unofficially confiscated and that the scenario was possibly an elaborate private joke between the two of them at the expense of a girly journalist. There was no leaving their performance. Appropriately, I had also, much to my regret, switched off my mobile as I realised that it too was in my bag. I pursued with the interview.

“Something that intrigued me about Monday’s performance and with your work in general is the issue of control. Almost like stage hypnotism where volunteers find themselves in situations that can be quite compromising or perhaps even uncomfortable. Could you expand on that?”
“I think specifically because there is an audience there, yes. Daniel Oliver is actually a trained hypnotist”.
“Hynotherapist. But we don’t use that in the work. It’s more involved than that. That would make it not art, for me and Luke anyway. Cheating really. In a sense I cousin hypnotism in performance with mime which is also a bit of a cheat. It just wouldn’t work in Convent (sic) Garden.”
“You’re performing in Covent Garden?”
“N-no. We don’t do mime. What we do is not mime. Obviously, it isn’t real, but not to the extent that it isn’t actually real. What I’m basically saying is, you are trapped in a moving car with us and you don’t actually know where we’re going, we’ve just told you. That’s the reality of your…our situation.”
“Yes”, I laughed, “although I would love to see you in Covent Garden.”
“Right. The problem is that you either have to be absurdly tall or just refuse to move. The idea of fixed or static performance is not the AuntyNazi way. As you know, things generally get very physical as the performance progresses”, explained Luke. “We are actually looking to involve a giant in a performance at some point, funnily enough. The next thing is a sort of psychic peepshow…”
“Involving a giant. Luke’s dad is a professional clairvoyant. Sorry, you don’t mind me mentioning that, do you, Luke?”
“No, not at all, Daniel Oliver. I mean your dad’s quite tall. It’s in the family, you see, it gets passed down. Gypsy blood.”
Again I laughed. “And do you have the gift?”
“I’m six one”, said Daniel Oliver.
“Yes, but you just don’t indulge it. Not as a young man. The responsibility factor is massive. AuntyNazi’s far less dangerous psychologically”, explained Luke.
“Yes. I’m glad I’m sat down”, said Daniel.

The fact that I was not having my palm read did not make me feel any safer. Luke and Daniel’s defining of what was real added nothing to my understanding of what was going on or where I was going. It was becoming very hard to tell if any of what they were saying was real or serious in any way. They were both behaving oddly oblivious to the uncomfortable nature of the situation. It was becoming apparent that to ask about the nature of their work automatically meant addressing the situation I was in. It quite genuinely seemed that this was their normality and that they truly did not “get it”. I decided to change tactics.

Whilst known for the more haphazard’n’rather risky side of their performance practice, AuntyNazi’s recent interests have been seen to be leaning towards the academic side of performance art known in the biz as Live Art, with their attention focused on London and less on Nottingham, the city in which their treasured masks were forged. Luke and Daniel studied at the legendary Victoria Studios on Nottingham’s Shakespeare Street, then home to the Live Art Archive, under David Hughes, David Gale, Joshua Sofaer and Jordan McKenzie. Following that they did their apprenticeship at Reactor Towers during the Ghaos era.

“It’s not a case of shifting loyalties, it’s just that the city has changed and you try to move with the times as you grow. It’s all about Hatch (a monthly event in Nottingham) now and whatever’s hatching there, it ain’t Pulcinella. AuntyNazi, and to a degree Reactor also, were a big part of the whole R:Core thing. But you can’t just buy a Ford Capri with Donna Wilson fluffy dice and an alice band at nought percent for the first twelve months and brand yourself a Live Artist. When it comes down to it, we come from a performance background and it happens to be rated R as it were. So what do you do? You divide the brand, dummy”.

That was finally it.
“I’m sorry, I have to ask this. Was that you talking…”
“Yes. I’m not miming.” said Luke.
“…Or is this scripted? For you”, I asked.
Luke looked across me at Daniel either for help or to toss him a wink, it was difficult to tell. I’d still not seen their faces from the moment we had met.
“Yes. No. It’s for you. That’s what we’re doing”, said Luke
“An interview?”
“Yes. For your magazine.”
“Okay, let’s just carry on.”

I semi-jokingly asked the boys if they were suggesting a separation or else the purchasing of mopeds on finance. At this Daniel leaned across and removed Luke’s mask.

“Not at all. It just means introducing another face to things. We’re going to call you Polly. Now let me give you an example of the sort of thing that Daniel Oliver is going to be talking about next”, answered Luke.
“I think what Luke’s trying to say is that we’re looking at dividing the practice into two separate franchises. Two different products. AuntyNazi Academic and AuntyNazi…”
“R:Core. It’s going to be called that, like hardcore but without the HD”, said Luke.
“It’s been going on for a while, but I think we are there. It’s something we’re both very aware of”, concluded Daniel. It took a moment before I realised what he was actually telling me. Breathing a sigh of relief, I finally saw it. The Limes, a large green gingham café with red writing just as they had promised, complete with waitresses who were large and honest. Over lunch we discussed all manner of things not AuntyNazi. I was quite exhausted. A week later I received an email with an mp3 attached. They had recorded the entire thing… and then edited it down. What you see here is what I got, but what I got on the day was something else entirely... Not exactly an interview. Just AuntyNazi.