Li Binyuan

In front of one of the two PW1 a large MOFO-magenta circle was marked like a museum ‘do not touch’ line. In the centre of the circle a basalt platform has been positioned where 250 identical Chinese hammers are piled together. This sets the scene for Li Binyuan’s performance art piece Deathless Love.

Throughout the first day there was a buzz around the grounds regarding Li “streaking brother” Binyuan. Seeing the skinny artist walk out in a basic khaki singlet and black jeans, this reviewer wasn’t quite sure what to expect. He seated himself, legs apart, pulled two hammers from the pile, and without introduction swung the flat metal head of one hammer to strike the head of the other, smashing it neatly in half.

There was no sound from the artist – just a look of concentration. As he continued to break hammers usually in three to four blows the audience loosely crowded the circle, unsure what to make of the spectacle.

That is, until the 18th hammer broke. Here, the lean artist’s hands began to noticeably shake, his aim started to falter and it was clear how taxing the project must be. The audience began to grow in size and energy to something resembling a sporting event, and when Binyuan would begin to falter they would cheer encouragement from the sidelines. Watching the artist break 250 hammers for over an hour, it was impossible not to feel supportive. There is no anger in his swing, no yelling, no secret technique, it’s not a performance; Deathless Love is a test of endurance. The process is slow; the artist takes short breaks to lie on the stage and try to summon the energy to finish. In the crowd you get swept up in feeling you’re watching an underdog story, and 70 hammers in, suddenly it doesn’t matter why he’s breaking them – only that you want him to break them all. For him. All 250. A man brings him one last hammer, the 251st, to break that final one.

And he does it, and you go wild for it.