The initial audience was respectful, even protective. People moved cautiously, avoiding eye contact with the artist. They used the feather to tickle her neck. A man offered her a rose. A woman wiped her face with a cloth. There was a palpable sense of contract —a belief that because the artist was watching, they would behave. However, the first rupture occurred when a man placed the scissors against her throat to cut her sweater. When she did not flinch, the spell of mutual respect broke. The audience realized: She is not going to say no.
Abramović’s refusal to react—no flinch, no scream, no plea—created a terrifying cognitive dissonance. Humans rely on feedback loops to regulate aggression. When a child cries, we stop. When an animal whimpers, we pause. Abramović broke the loop. By remaining a “thing,” she inadvertently invited the audience to treat her as a thing. The tears in her eyes were real, but without a movement to escape, the audience rationalized: She must want this. rhythm 0
Rhythm 0 was not a performance about Marina Abramović. It was a performance about you —the audience member, the citizen, the human being stripped of surveillance and consequence. This paper will explore how Abramović’s radical passivity functioned as a catalyst for collective psychosis, how the performance’s infamous “second act” of violence was not a failure of art but its horrifying success, and why the piece remains the most cited, most disturbing case study in the ethics of participation. The initial audience was respectful, even protective