A beige canvas rectangle on the floor topped with a human-size, plush stick figure of the same color greeted visitors to the second floor hallway of 319 North 11th Street on First Friday. Seeing that the hallway of this multiform art destination is a severely underutilized space, the regulars stopped in their tracks as much as the curious newcomers. Napoleon was about to begin a night of performances for their December show, “Understudy,” and Brad Jamula’s “Helvetica Man” was first in the queue, along with Peter Cotroneo, Alex Ibsen and Mark Martinez.

While the lifeless mass of person-shaped fabric looks soft, a quick read of Jamula’s statement reveals that it is actually assembled to be the same height and weight as the artist. The performance first begins like a workout with Jamula warming up and stretching around the perimeter of the impromptu wrestling ring of sorts. Betrayed by our eyes and our expectations, Jamula’s doppelgänger still manages to look like a cozy body pillow until he moves it for the first time, its arm hitting the wooden floor with a massive thud and a puff of dust.

Brad Jemula beneath his “Helvetica Man” during the performance.

From here Jamula proceeds to move, manipulate and eventually lift the figure from the floor, and his heavy breathing and muffled grunts further impress upon the audience that this is no easy task. Redirecting the idea of body weight exercise to a place of otherness instead of through push-ups and pull-ups, Jamula assigns the weighty rag doll an identity that both mimics and defies his own. Like the featureless, anonymous avatars of Internet comment sections, the dummy represents both a very specific person and yet nobody at all. By literally grappling with this form by way of a choreographed ritual, Brad Jamula confronts his individuality and his sameness by way of a most peculiar form of voodoo.

Alex Ibsen acts like a termite acting like a beaver, taking instructions on dam building from a laptop.

Alex Ibsen dons a beaver costume as he works in reverse of Jamula, adopting the actions of – not a beaver – but a termite pretending to be a beaver. Watching Ibsen position wood scraps to dam the corner filled with “water” (read: blue painter’s tape) it is at first quite laughable. The “beaver” keeps referring to a laptop playing nature footage of beavers, and occasionally tapping the track pad when the screen goes blank. Eventually the process becomes tedious and almost sad as the would-be mascot fails to accomplish much of anything. This exercise in futility is not unlike the disconnect of understanding the experience of another. As much as it seems absurd for a man to imitate a termite imitating a beaver, would it be much different for a man to claim to understand the experience of a woman? How about a man of a different race? Play acting can be fun or funny, but it can also prove a powerful point about what we can truly know.

In the world of professional wrestling, one would hope most fans recognize its camp and farce… but where do fiction and reality diverge in the world of acting? Peter Cotroneo’s video finds him in a sparse room, face painted like a wrestling personality, shirtless and wielding a folding metal chair. To be struck with a chair by another wrestler must sting quite a bit, but what about striking oneself? Cotroneo proceeds to unflinchingly unleash the slow fury of the metal against his forehead area time and time again. Each hit looks mostly benign. “He’s not really trying to hurt himself,” we think… but then the minutes pass and the rhythm of the metal-on-face reminds us that, while he is utilizing restraint, that still must hurt. Like a meditation on aging, degradation and self-consciousness, even when the artist ceases his assault, the effects live on.

A “King Dalé” poster by Mark Martinez.

Mark Martinez fashions posters of himself advertising him as King Dalé, the “King of Reggaeton.” Half Puerto Rican and half Korean, Martinez doesn’t exactly relate to either identity, and so in a way, he creates one. The text is explosive, the pictures are dramatic to the point of comedy, and yet these ads seem passable. In American society where self-promotion and confidence often have no limits, Martinez latches onto the spectacle of exposure as a performance without the action. Larger than life in an oversaturated culture is as close to on par as we can get unless we simply choose to opt out.

The performances of “Understudy” were a one-night only affair on First Friday, December 5.

Napoleon is located at 319 North 11th St., on the second floor, Philadelphia; [email protected]; napoleonnapoleon.com.