Just looked at stills of your performance of attachment/detachment the support text which was your action and interaction with the audience you were always attached to them, even when attached to navel which is a constant reminder that we were once physically attached to someone. This navel/umbilical cord which was your attachment to your mother was also our attachment to the world outside the world of the womb, as everything your mother ate feed you, was once attached to someone else. we are constantly attached and yet detached. In this age of'globalision' it is an interesting concept, looking forward to it's progression, as we are all attached to the beggar, all attached to Bush, to the man with the camera

Alan Gilbert
Interview with Vivek Narayanan

Alan: You’ve recently begun to incorporate a performance component into your poetry readings. For instance, you’ve started readings sitting in the back of the audience; you began a poetry reading on a cell phone outside the venue (reminiscent of what was perhaps Vito Acconci’s last “official” poetry reading, which he literally phoned in from different pay phones around New York City); you’ve experimented with different forms of audience participation. Can you talk about the importance of performance to your work?
Vivek: I grew up in Africa, so fairly early on, rappers and then people like Linton Kwesi Johnson and the great Mutabaruka were heroes. I’m just speculating, I don’t want to essentialize, but I wonder if a great many poets who see themselves, say, as “people of color” are simply less likely to see “performance” as somehow “tainted.” They consider it as an integral part of their idea of poetry, regardless of how their relationship to modernism and the formal literary sphere might have evolved over time. What’s more, there’s a level on which performance is a part of writing; gradually, you grasp that if you hear and inflect the language in a slightly non-standard way, then performance can serve as a kind of proof, of your prosody.
“Performance” in that wider sense was something I believed in, and worked on, more or less from the time I began to go public with poetry, maybe 15, 20 years ago. What did happen, however, was a disenchantment a) with the slam/spoken word style, and b) with poetry recited to a musical backdrop. Both modes I think are dead ends by now, or cul-de-sacs at best—the first because it has settled too easily into a set of mannerisms (the best poets from the movement, such as Lemn Sissay, are still great because their performances are in many ways an attack on, refusal or negation of everything the audience has come to see), the second, because hip hop with its offshoots has taken the whole word-music equation to such unbelievable heights of skill that “spoken word” just seems unable to compete.
So in thinking about what to do differently with performance in the aftermath of these disenchantments, I found myself going back to fundamentals beyond language—the context of the performance above all, which might include the temporality of a poem, the interplay between ephemeral and lasting effects in a poem, the presence or absence of the body, the role of the audience, the possibility of collaboration, the possibility of “remote” performances, how to channel and recover the long, varied history of poetry performance styles available to us on record, and so on. It made sense to look to the history of avant-garde performance and to the kinds of things that have been happening in the art world, a visionary like Acconci leaping across that border. A lot of what I end up doing depends just on visiting the site where I have to perform, ideally with a collaborator, and seeing what it is that can and needs to be done. There are people in Delhi like the mesmerising performance artist Inder Salim who are doing far more extreme stuff, using their bodies, poetry, language, performance. I don’t personally want to get too far away from representational and composed poetry, just to learn to hold it in tension with its context. For me, the key question, the only one that really matters, is still, “How and why do we make poems public?”