Levi van Gelder: Ötza, Ontologically Speaking
Levi van Gelder, exhibiton at Mutter, Amsterdam, Sept 16 - Jan 10, 2023
photograhy by Giovanni Salice
Cryodesiccated mummy and 5300 year old freelance fanfiction entrepreneur Ötza shares writing and installation views from her first solo show at Mutter Amsterdam (NL) titled: Ötza, Ontologically Speaking.
In a two-part fanfiction saga, Ötza re-entifies herself (which is different from identifying, which she doesn't do because she doesn't exist; she insists as a disontologized entity) as Ötzy Lee Miller—owner of the Ötzy Lee Dance Company—and as the better half of two identical twins that are on a date with the infamous Bogdanov twins at a Jamie’s Italian. As her corporeal counterpart is locked in a cooling cell in the Museum for Archaeology in Bolzano (IT), her writings are hopeful yearnings for a counterfactual salvation from her inhumane faith of ice and science, and an attempt to rewrite her own story that has been (unfairly) extrapolated from scientific reconstructions.
CHAPTER 38: THE ÖTZY LEE DANCE COMPANY
Ötzy Lee Miller walked into the biggest classroom of her dance studio, the Ötzy Lee Dance Company. Actually—to be precise—she stormed into the biggest classroom of her dance studio. She was in the worst of moods. The girls scored second at the Miss Prissy Kissy Epistemologissy Dance Competition in Columbus, Ohio. Second! What an abhorrent crime. They had been working on their new dance routine for this specific competition for the last weeks, an ambitious piece titled: “Frank & Stein: The Gothic Flatline.” A dance routine about the conflicted counterfactual friendship between the wax figure of Anne Frank in Madame Tussauds and Gertrude Stein, who together are discussing the Gothic Flatline, as described by Mark Fisher; the plane where it is no longer possible to differentiate the animate from the inanimate and where to have agency is not necessarily to be alive.
She looked each girl in the eyes, making sure every single one of them understood that she was displeased. No, not displeased, outraged. She didn’t say a word. Ötzy Lee had given them more than enough energy over the last couple of weeks. Working tirelessly, day and night, assembling the intricate story of Frank and Stein in a jazzy hip hop lyrical performance. She had given them everything and the ungrateful leeches didn’t even bother to fully stretch their feet during the grand jetés.
The kids were trembling. They knew she was not happy and she was happy that they knew she was not happy. The moms were standing on the side. They were also not happy, but mostly they were not happy with the kids not being happy for knowing Ötzy Lee was not happy. She couldn’t bear to look at their faces, always complaining, always thinking they know better. They wouldn’t know a chassé if it hit them right in the face.
She gave them one quick glance, scoffed, and turned towards the pyramid.
“On the bottom of the pyramid, we have…” She swiftly tore the white A4 paper that was covering the first headshot of one of the girls—of which there were six—taped to the dance studio mirror in the shape of a pyramid. “Kendall.”
Before Ötzy Lee could even finish the name, Jill protested loudly, her shrill voice inciting a sudden storm of rage in Ötzy Lee, but miraculously—however it was no miracle that did it, it was the skillful patience of Ötzi Lee—she found the power within to ignore Jill’s ungraceful squealing while speaking to Kendall, whose eyes were tearing up.
“You had an essential, crucial part in the piece. And you were HORRIBLE. You did NOT embody Gertrude Stein, you did NOT finish your turns, you did NOT give ANY energy and your face was completely LIFELESS. You were the only animate character in the piece, and how can we demonstrate the fickle balance of differentiating between the living and nonliving when the only live character seems to be BEREFT of life.”
“Next…” She ripped away the second paper, with even more temper than before. “Nia.” Dr. Holly rolled with her eyes. “ You were supposed to be a frighteningly inert cyborg that narrated the dissolution of history in times of technological triumph… but I didn’t believe you.”
“Accompanying them on the bottom of the pyramid.” She tore another paper from the mirror, a third face of aggravating righteousness appearing behind. “Mackenzie." She crumbled up the paper in her hands and threw it across the room, aiming for the trash but just missing it, which made her even more frustrated. “That is where you belong. In the trash. You were supposed to be an uncanny valley girl, a dancing art animatronic that was a continuous leitmotif for dead labor and mechanical reproduction. But you gave me Chuck E. Cheese stripper.”
Mackenzie was choking on her tears, knowing damn well that there’s absolutely no place for tears at the Ötzy Lee Dance Company. If anyone, Ötzy Lee should be the one crying, for this character was based on her personal experience working as a Jordan Wolfson animatronic at the Stedelijk Museum back when she was still a professional dancer. Mackenzie knew how important this role was to Ötzy Lee, and yet, she gave 0% of the attitude and je ne sais quoi that a depiction of Female Figure (2014) should have.
“Third on the pyramid.” Another loud ripping sound. “Chloe. You were supposed to be a dead piece of meat on the stage… and you were a dead piece of meat on the stage, in every sense of the word. A true dancer knows that, even as a dead piece of meat—a disembodied entity that overpowers the docile body into inertia—you have to bring it to life on the stage. A disappointing performance.”
“Second on the pyramid: Maddie.” She heard gasps throughout the room. Maddie had stayed undefeated at the top of the pyramid for four months. The girls looked at each other, Melissa stumbled over her words, Maddie froze completely and Ötzy Lee watched it all play out. “You had the main role, which was a difficult one. But if anyone would be able to portray the barbaric subjugation of the wax figure of Anne Frank in Madame Tussauds Amsterdam, it would be you. You can do WAY better than that, disappointing week for you.”
“Then, on the top of the pyramid…” Expectation filled up the room, doubled even by the room-sized mirror, the silence too heavy for the dance floor to withstand. Ötzy Lee couldn’t help but smile when she tore away the last sheet of paper with a screeching rip, showing the picture underneath to be completely blank. Gasps. “No one,” she said.
She returned the offended gaze of the last girl standing, her unnervingly tight ponytail almost yanking her blond hair out of her scalp, seemingly stretching her facial expression into one of perpetual contempt and ungrateful ostentation. She was supposed to be Mary Shelley, a omnipotent puppet master that served as the enigmatic Big Other of the piece, superintending the relationship between the wax figure of Anne Frank and Gertrude Stein towards the point of the apocalyptic flatline in the end of the piece, a world without any differential fields or distinct objects, devoid of the possibility of any other alternate actualities than a singular necropolitical capitalist homogeneity.
But she committed two heinous, unforgivable sins… she lip synced during the routine. And she dropped her baton.
CHAPTER 78: THE BOGDANOFF TWINS
The Bogdanoff twins were famous for multiple things. They were famous for their shows on French television about science fact and science fiction. They were famous for their prominent and bulbous cheekbones and chins, while both denied ever having undergone plastic surgery. But mostly they were famous for scamming (some of the) scientific academic world in 2001 and 2002 by writing nonsensical physics papers that were still published in reputable scientific journals. Although—also here—never admitting their papers were anything but an important scientific contribution, even going as far as suing multiple scientific magazines for defamation. All time hits like “Topological field theory of the initial singularity of spacetime” and "The KMS state of spacetime at the Planck scale" are since debunked as “a hoax perpetrated on the physics community”.
A group of four was sitting at Jamie’s Italian. The four include Ötza, of course, and her twin sister, who doesn’t exist but was counterfactually conceived just for this segment—after that she will cease to exist—her name is Ötzette, she’s a type designer. And Igor and Grichka Bogdanoff. And they were on a double date. While Igor and Grichka were talking to each other about their positions at Megatrend University, Ötza and Ötzette were whispering behind their menus, discussing who they think is the cutest and—even more importantly—who will go home with whom.
Abruptly, Igor and Grichka interrupted their conversation, saying—in unison—that they predicted crypto in the 80s. Then they started uttering scientific jargon, a meaningless combination of buzzwords that was already difficult to understand due to the inflexibility of their swollen lips. Ötza tried to listen, and wondered how they managed to gaslight all those scientists (not all of them Italian) to take them seriously?
But then she thought to herself: Why should they not have been taken seriously? Surely, their statements were nonsensical to traditional scientific standards. But did that mean it actually had no meaningful content whatsoever? She couldn’t help but wonder; if science is an interpretive system just like any other sort of knowledge, then why wouldn’t there be space for counterfactual speculation? Were Igor and Grichka also just victims of science’s regime of truth, just like herself?
“I would love to read your thesis,” she said to either Igor or Grishka. She felt proud of her newfound realization, and happy to support the twins with their academic scamming practice.
But they looked at her weird, and said: “I’m pretty sure you can’t read.”
Her and Ötzette got up immediately, both grabbed their drinks and threw it in the faces of Igor and Grishka respectively. (Not respectfully, respectively.) Apparently they were too caught up in science’s regime of truth after all, and totally not self-aware. Not sexy. Ötzette stopped existing when they walked out of Jamie’s Italian without paying.
This made me laugh so many times.