Marina Abramović is no fraud – or no more so than any religious leader

If art is the new religion, we were always going to end up here. With high priests, acolytes and ‘energy’. That’s the set up at the Serpentine Gallery at the moment: us as the potential believers queuing around the block ready to be received, and Marina Abramović as the high priestess armed with nothing (literally nothing) but her presence. It could be Rome, Jerusalem or Gold Base. It could be the 20th, 8th or 1st centuries. We’re in a world of belief – and possibly make-believe.

I was Abramovićed last week. Rationalist cynic that I am, I thought I wouldn’t be able to take it. But I did. I felt compelled to, really. It seemed churlish not to at least try to engage in it. To not do so would be to cut off my nose to spite my face. If there’s something to gain from an experience, why not suspend disbelief? Why not give someone the benefit of the doubt? 512 Hours seemed honest enough to be worth my while.