"Repetition, endurance and self mutilation" figure prominently in the performance art of Montrealer Julie Andrea T. Performance art has a legacy of masochism, and a history of artists scarring themselves with razors, nails and even bullets. That was enough to cause trepidation for the small crowd that visited Neutral Ground gallery for this one night show, "But There Is No Bed", co-sponsored by New Dance Horizons. One female artist I know actually skipped the event on the grounds of squeamishness.

When doors opened at 8 pm we found Andrea T. Circling a square pillar with tape over her eyes and a piece of graphite in her hand. Round and round and round she shuffled, singing softly to herself in French.

Andrea T. Is a former competitive swimmer. Testing physical and psychological limits is a characteristic of athletes, and is celebrated by society. It's Andrea T.'s experience that the mind generally succumbs to acute stress before the body. This was borne out during the performance, as dizziness and fatigue overtook her. She began to misjudge her path around the pillar and would sometimes bump into it.

There's no denying our society possesses a remarkable capacity for detachment, whether it's watching some tragedy unfold on TV, or ignoring a stranger in obvious distress. Gallery staff documented Andrea T.'s performance with video and still cameras, much like news crews that record accidents for the nightly news.

The most disturbing part of her performance were the four times she tipped backwards in a chair. Our emotions swung from surprise to anticipation, from guilty resignation to dread at the toll Andrea T.'s jarring collisions with the floor took on her.

To alleviate the tension , Andrea T. Performed nonsense movements, like manipulation a wad of wool as a hand puppet and thrusting her face into a pile of icing sugar. These prompted nervous laughter from the audience, but as Andrea T. demeaned and debased herself, its clear who enjoyed the last laugh.