Speech Does Matter: Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen |

I'm republishing today a longer version of an interview with artist Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen that I recently did for Dazed Digital.

Often ranking number one in the top ten of the Worldwide Press Freedom Index, Denmark established a long-standing reputation for freedom of speech.

It was only natural then that freedom of speech turned into the main focus of this year’s Danish Pavilion at the Venice Biennale.

Conceived as a complex and ambivalent issue, freedom is analysed through the works showcased at the Pavilion from different points of view concerning limits of freedom of speech and freedom infringements, but also decency, tolerance, property and morality.

The resulting exhibition, entitled “Speech Matters” and featuring 18 international artists, including Czech Jan Švankmajer (with seminal 1968 film Zahrada – The Garden) and American Robert Crumb (with his 1993 parody of US race relations When the Niggers Take Over America), showcases artworks – from film and photography to cartoons, paintings and installations – that introduce visitors to thought-provoking creative forms of resistance.

The main aim of the exhibition is definitely not shocking or offending, but stirring the debate about freedom of expression, investigating issues of intellectual property (Brussels-based group Agency), history, politics and current affairs (Stelios Faitakis), political speeches (Sharon Hayes), human rights and inner conflicts (Han Hoogerbrugge) and social conventions (Mikhail Karikis).

Among the artists exhibiting their works at the Danish Pavilion there is also Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen with a performance entitled “Afghan Hound” exploring gender in cultures where men and women are segregated.

Clad in a hybrid costume inspired by the tradition of Afghan hound racing, the artist presented during the opening days of the Biennale a highly theatrical performance on the Speakers’ Corner of the para-pavilion built by Thomas Kilpper.

Through her songs, Rasmussen questioned race, culture, religion and nationality, delivering one of the strongest live performance of the Biennale opening days.

Is this the first time you present your work at the Venice Biennale?
Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen: Yes it is.

The Danish Pavilion has got a great mix of international artists, how do you feel about being part of this group?
Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen: The show is well composed with many great works. The artists featured are incomparable. Unfortunately many of the projects inside the small pavilion don’t unfold like the outdoor pieces such as Thomas Kilper's para-pavilion and Stelios Faitakis' mural that has got a monumental character.

What does freedom of speech mean to you?
Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen: I am truly devoted to the exhibition topic. I have dealt with this issue in previous works and I think it is a complex and urgent matter. Freedom of expression is essential for artists and for the art making process.

How did your project “Afghan Hound” start?
Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen: The scepticism towards the Arabic world and Islam has personally triggered me since I was a child. I was born and lived in the Philippines until I was 8. Then, I was told about the brutal, violent Muslims causing the problems in the country and the terrorists acts by The Abu Sayyaf. Now I live in Copenhagen in a neighbourhood where many Arabic people live. The alienation towards this part of the world is something I’ve always wanted to investigate. When I got invited to do a performance for “Speech Matters” my immediate idea was turning into a mouthpiece for people with no voice in the context of the Venice Biennale that is dominated by arty people. Through my piece I am revealing stories about complex gender constructions empowered by a social order rather than by a personal choice of the individual. These gender issues can be tracked back also in other countries and other areas with a slightly different twist or purpose. The Afghan stories totally captured me since the separation of gender and male dominants is extreme over there and the male dominants are rooted in an old and long tradition that cannot be dissolved suddenly by a revolution or a Western intervention. If the West wants to help, we must understand this and support the civilians, not their dictators.

One of the songs that are part of the performance includes quotes from Afghan writer and activist Malalai Joya, what fascinates you about Joya’s works?
Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen: Last year I was invited by DOX:LAB to be part of Copenhagen Documentary Festival and do a collaborative film with an Afghan filmmaker, Kabul-based artist Mariam Nabil Kamal. Unfortunately, it was cancelled because we couldn’t get her out of Afghanistan. My research about Afghanistan started then. Malalai Joya is an amazingly brave person and a fighter, her language is precise and poetic. Imagine how it would be to live your entire life in a country that only experienced war. I am not sure if I would have the courage to be in the opposition. I’m currently working with another partner, Syrian filmmaker Nidal Hassan from Damascus. We have started the production of a film, but I am not sure if we can finish it since the situation in Syria is critical. I was in Syria just when the first uprisings began and it was very hard to work there, we were very controlled and surveilled by the police. All the information we get in the West about what is going on there is limited.

The costume for your "Afghan Hound" performance at the Biennale is instrumental since it symbolises sexualities and identities: what inspired it?
Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen: The inspiration for the costume came from the tradition of Afghan hound racing. The costume is made of black hair that covers me from top to toe like a burqa. Normally, hair is hidden behind the burqa, but, in my performance, it is worn on the outside.

What does the hair represent?
Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen: The hair illustrates hidden and shameful sexualities. The hair moves around my body during the performance in which I impersonate 3 ½ different genders. In the first part of the performance I am Malalai Joya, though her name is an alias to protect her family, and I’m wearing a burqa made with hair, so her identity is hidden. In the second part I’m a warlord wearing a kaftan and the hair transforms into a huge beard; in the third part I turn into a Bacha Bazi, a boy forced to dress as a girl who dances at men’s parties where no women are allowed and who is also a sex slave. The hair is this case goes between the legs as if it were a skirt and the kaftan becomes a blouse. The last person I impersonate is a woman, a Bacha Posh, who in her childhood was forced to dress
as a boy because there were no sons in the family. When she becomes a woman, she must change her social status again and loose her freedom.

Was the performance you did during the Biennale opening days a way to reach out to people who may be interested in other forms of art such as music?
Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen: I would like my works to reach out to a broader audience beyond people interested in art. Music is an immediate expression that captures people, everybody can indeed relate to sound. The most important thing for me is communicating a story that must be told, it is not about it being or not being art.

Do you feel that your performances apart from reaching out to more people also break social barriers?
Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen: Yes I do. You don’t need an art education to enter my works as I try to uphold the immediacy and presence in my pieces.

Will your songs be broadcast also on Osloo radio on the floating Denmark Pavilion at the San Saverio Island during the Biennale?
Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen: No, but it is a good idea.

In a recent interview with The Guardian Aung San Suu Kyi stated: “If you can make people understand why freedom is so important through the arts, that would be a big help,” do you agree with this statement and how important is it for contemporary artists to spread this message of freedom?
Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen: I do believe that art can make a difference, though I am not always sure if it works. Yet, if Aung San Suu Kyi says so, I feel hope and encouragement. Art is a free space, but often when it is put in to a context and published, artists do encounter censorship. And here comes a new question: what I can utter in my country may not be allowed in another culture. I myself have experienced censorship several times. I don’t think that artists have the obligation to do political work. Personally I prefer art with an edge, art that must get out, because it really needs to.

What kind of feedback did you get from the people visiting the pavilion?
Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussen: The feedback was great. Visitors understood the strong, powerful, daring and uncanny works linked with the main theme of the pavilion and the complex topic behind my piece. This was great since I think it is important not to be misunderstood especially when you are using stereotypes to illustrate specific characters.

Image of Lilibeth Cuenca Rasmussuen performing at the Venice Art Biennale by Thilo Frank.

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