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Abramović took two prescription medications. The first was for catatonia. For nearly an hour, she sat rigid in a chair, unable to move her body while her mind remained fully conscious. She watched herself become a statue.

There are artists who paint, artists who sculpt, and artists who photograph. And then there is , who bleeds.

They cut off her clothes. They scratched her with thorns. They drew on her face. One man held the loaded gun to her head, putting her finger on the trigger. A fight broke out among the audience over whether he should pull it.

By the end, Abramović was bleeding, stripped, and weeping. When she finally moved—walking directly into the hostile crowd—they fled. They couldn't look her in the eye.

Two spectators, realizing she wasn't performing but actually dying , rushed in and pulled her out. Later, Abramović reflected: "When you lose consciousness, you lose time, you lose rhythm." She realized that the physical body has boundaries that the mind cannot always predict. She never performed with fire again. Sandwiched chronologically between the fire and the knives, Rhythm 2 is the quietest—and perhaps the most terrifying—piece of the series.

Then, the night fell. And the monster awoke.