Published: November 22, 2008 05:58 pm            

Living statues

While Mason and I were strolling through the French Quarter in New Orleans last summer, we walked past a bronze statue of a baseball player from the ’50s. He looked like a pitcher, clutching a ball in his hand, ready to hurl it across home plate. Although very lifelike, the statue seemed out of place in the bustling historic area we were in.

A few steps later, Mason stopped. “I think that statue moved,” he said. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. After all, we were on vacation and I didn’t want to spend our anniversary in a hospital waiting room while Mason analyzed ink blots for a team of psychiatrists.

So, we looked back to see what caught his eye. It took a few minutes of studying the baseball player, but sure enough, the statue did move. Just a little. Hardly noticeable. A small trembling of the hand. A minor twitch of the fingers. Then, the eyes blinked.

A guy in a Chicago Cubs T-shirt dropped a dollar into the baseball cap at the player’s feet. The player/statue did a slow wind up and pretended to pitch the ball toward an imaginary batter. You could see his muscles flex and release with each fluid movement. Impressive. Then the player resumed his motionless pose for the next unsuspecting tourist to admire — and reward.

You have to see the street performer in action — or non-action — to truly appreciate this art form. The costuming. The body paint. The ability to remain frozen in place for long stretches, despite occasional heckling, prodding and prompting by passers-by.

The performance art began in medieval times, according to Wikipedia. It was a popular thing to do at festivals and parties. It’s evolved into something called “freeze mime.” You can see the mime training in the expressionless faces and silent act. When the artist does move, it’s in a fluid, robotic-like fashion.

There is some interaction with those who stop long enough to appreciate what’s going on. But it’s all in character.

When my daughters and I were in Boston recently, we discovered a living statue in the Public Garden. She had painted her face white, applied heavy black make-up on her eyes and wore an all-black outfit, including black gloves stretching to her elbows. A tattered black parasol was propped on her shoulder.

When Ingrid placed money in her container, the artist slowly and gracefully blew our generous giver a kiss. Ingrid was delighted. The artist resumed her stance and blended back into the natural landscape.

You have to wonder what the artists think about during those long hours of standing still, barely breathing, possibly trying to suppress a cough, sneeze or itch.

They endure the heat or cold with their body covered in paint. And suffer through bugs, dogs or obnoxious people annoying them.

You’d need ways to combat boredom and people who want to pinch you. You’d have to ignore distractions, stay balanced in whatever pose you strike, then spring to life at just the right moment. Surprise!

This isn’t just an American phenomenon. The freeze mimes pop up in Europe as well. When the boys and I were in Berlin last summer we strolled through Potsdam Platz by the Brandenburg Gate. We noticed a platform with two soldiers painted green. They stood next to a life-sized statue of the Berlin Bear. But when we stared at one soldier, he stared back — and eventually blinked. He also saluted anyone who tossed euros into the helmet strategically planted by his feet.

Both in the states and abroad, you can rent a living statue for your very own party. There are punk statues, ice fairies and robots with names such as Electra, Cyborg and Arbie. Politicians, construction workers and stone angels also are available. You can even have a statue custom designed by some companies.

Or, if you’re on a budget, I’ll make you a deal on living statues around my own house. The kids can remain near motionless at the computer for long stretches, watching ridiculous things on YouTube.

Mason lies quietly on the couch with a book spread across his stomach. He can hold that pose for hours. I’ll toss in the cat at no extra charge. She hardly ever moves. I’ll even provide a can of spray paint.

So don’t just stand there, call now for “modern kids at play” and “the English professor and his mews.” Be the first in your neighborhood to take part in this popular non-movement.

        

• Click to discuss this story with other readers on our forums.