This was a brilliant executed academic yet public facing non fiction title. Snow's assessment of self harm in the cultural zeitgeist from the 2000'a until now was so well articulated, raising numerous unique points and offering a humane perspective on a difficult topic. Snow's nuanced approach that delved into the weeds of this idea of harm for entertainments sake raised so many questions on the how why and when we consume the media that we do.

Full review in Youtube Video linked below :)

A very engaging and thought provoking book.

Thank you Netgalley and the publishers for this ARC for an exchange for a review.

Snow's assessment of self-harm in art and the perspective on violence in general as being médiatique is poignant, captivating and absolutely convincing.
"I'm not about death and I didn't want to die, but I wanted to come close, okay?"

As we enter a social realm in which people's lives increasingly become performative, books like this are extremely necessary, as they examine the structures of violence which underpin these performances.

"I'm not about death and I didn't want to die, but I wanted to come close, okay?"

NetGalley provided me with an eARC very kindly! I requested this book because the title immediately hit home for me and I had never really explored the world of performance art before. Self injurious art? It sounds so bizarre. And it is!
Philippa Snow writes beautifully and intelligently. Nothing in this book feels hard to grasp, the concepts presented are thought provoking and really made me think. Even when I wasn't reading the book, I was pondering it all day.
I loved this so much. Definitely recommend. Thank you Repeater Publishing.

Which as You Know Means Violence by Philippa Snow explores performance art and self-injury and harm.

After reading the first two lines of the introduction involving Zizek and Fight Club, I knew this book was going to be a great read. Snow manages to be both engaging and insightful. Snow is particularly masterful in discusses how the identity of artists affected the intended meaning of their work or how the public tended to interpret them. Abramovic and Arsenault's respective art varies greatly in how they engage with pain, and risk of death. Like many artists within this genre, they are willing to die for their art and toy with the idea of their own death being made into art. The analysis of Jackass being a reaction to 9/11 for disaffected young men wanting to see other disaffected young men putting mousetraps on their nipples is genuinely hilarious and true. Knoxville might cringe at being called an artist, but he sacrifices his body for his craft continuously. Even John Waters recognized the campiness of Knoxville's craft. This was such a well-researched and refreshing read I could not put down!

Thoughtful, surprising, and engaging ideas about how violence and art continue to intersect and what our attraction to it might mean.

I was so intrigued when I read that the title for Which as You Know Means Violence came from an exchange between Hunter S. Thompson and Johnny Knoxville of Jackass fame that, despite not having a firm appreciation (or, really, understanding) of performance art as a whole, I was delighted to have been approved for an ARC and flew through this in a couple of hours. Writer and art critic Philippa Snow analyses the use of pain and self-harm in performance art — covering artists from Buster Keaton and Marina Abramović to Johnny Knoxville and modern YouTube stars — and her knowledge and enthusiasm went a long way towards growing my appreciation for the performance of violence as an artform. This was entirely satisfying as a general interest read, seems like it would be valuable for those with prior knowledge in the field, and I am enlarged for having read it.