It seems to me that a great deal of "performance art" is much like rubbernecking at a highway mishap.

You aren't sure why you are staring so intently, chastise yourself for the amount of time you are spending staring, yet you can't seem to stop yourself. How come?

I imagine, if I googled, I'd find some research that has explored, examined, dissected, probed and poked the brain to answer that question. 

I do know though, for me, as it relates to performance art, it's my fascination with someone's ability to come up with some left of center idea, explore it down to within an inch of it's life, and then actually do it. It's the doing it part that really fascinates. Most of us mere mortals have these imaginative flights of fancy. You know, what would happen if I did___________fill in your own blank. Then, of course, we fail to execute.

Some can execute. Two current exhibitions are my case in point.

Marina Abramovic The Artist is Present, and Kate Gilmore Walk The Walk.

While I haven't seen the Bryant Park trot-a-thon I have been to MoMa for Abramovic's show. And, like the rubbernecking concept, couldn't take my eyes off of Marina while she sat at a table, not taking her eyes off of the person seated across from her, who was staring back at her. She sits all day. Doesn't get up for anything. Nary a bathroom stop, a drink of water, a hamburger. All day. Like in all day. For the entire time her exhibition is mounted. Week after week.

Did you get that? 

The latest, and without doubt, takes the "you thought this up, really, really" award is called Glassphemy! Something about recycling being boring, this exhibition is making it more exciting. That concept is coupled with a dose of allowable aggressive behavior. Like throwing the soon to be recycled glass against a wall. In the vicinity of others. No casualties have been reported.

I, have to rethink what I consider performance art. Offering my seat, while on the subway to a pregnant woman, I thought wouldn't qualify. Even with my getting up, oh so gracefully and with such flourish.

Then, considering the look of shock and awe from my fellow passengers, once I had executed that maneuver apparently did qualify me as a performance artist. 

For the moment.