The latest installment of Chelsea Art Walk was arguably hijacked by a rebellious performance piece by the budding artist Myla Dalbesio. Barely clothed in a hot pink bikini and stripper heels, and covered in slimy brown body paint, Dalbesio writhed on a dollar-bill-coated floor of the tiny back room at Ramis Barquet gallery, covering herself, the room and innocent bystanders with sticky, cheap Champagne.
The rap song “Young Money” blared on endless repeat, and a helper invited viewers to sit for a “dance.”
In reality, this consisted of Dalbesio pressing herself, and her sizable breasts, against you, coating your lap in bubbly and floor goo, while she made intense, Abramovich-esque eye contact for as long as she pleased, and then holy crossed your forehead with the booze.
The performance was a knockout as far as I’m concerned, leaving typically pristine Chelsea art viewers thoroughly immersed in Dalbesio’s intention, skeezey as it was, coated in her filthy residue, and questioning their own perverse desires.
(For a real shock, a Web search finds Dalbesio at 16 years old, as Miss Teen Wisconsin in 2004. She is now a professional fashion model with Ford.)
The rap song “Young Money” blared on endless repeat, and a helper invited viewers to sit for a “dance.”
In reality, this consisted of Dalbesio pressing herself, and her sizable breasts, against you, coating your lap in bubbly and floor goo, while she made intense, Abramovich-esque eye contact for as long as she pleased, and then holy crossed your forehead with the booze.
The performance was a knockout as far as I’m concerned, leaving typically pristine Chelsea art viewers thoroughly immersed in Dalbesio’s intention, skeezey as it was, coated in her filthy residue, and questioning their own perverse desires.
(For a real shock, a Web search finds Dalbesio at 16 years old, as Miss Teen Wisconsin in 2004. She is now a professional fashion model with Ford.)
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