The Pandrogyne's Shoe

February 11, 2019

Speaking with Genesis Breyer P-Orridge is a lot like viewing the artist’s work: a cerebral journey to the edges of what is possible. The shoe sculptures on view at Marlborough Contemporary hit the bloodstream like a shot of visual heroin—the combination of materials is a corporeal joyride through the artist’s life, who constructed the macabre fashion anomalies, I was surprised to learn, from things laying around the house.

Who is the woman (or man? or pandrogyne—as the artist describes h/erself, in conversation calling h/erself 'we') that would walk in these shoes? They are certainly an ethereal being not of this world, and yet intrinsically linked to earthy energies: a creature, a spirit, a light-footed pagan dominatrix set free from the confines of a body, but one who relishes in the pleasures of the visceral.

Interview by John Martin Tilley

The shoes themselves seem almost animate beings, their presence here a mere pit stop on their way to a land full of mystique and wonder. Needless to say, these are sculptures with layers upon layers of story. Speaking to artists on a regular basis, I often run across the concept of objects being ‘charged,’ but never have I seen such an optimal example of this idea in action. The materials in these pieces almost quiver and squirm, the organic shapes entangled with those that are manmade lends the effect of an intrinsic clash that seems to spark, rattle, and pop. There is a kind of childlike idolatry embedded in these shoes—many contain once-living animals. A freeze-dried bat rests in the sole of one pump as if it were its coffin, or a reliquary for a vampire.

The sustaining concept of a world beyond biological gender is reinforced in the use of these tiny, lifeless creatures: only an expert could identify whether the bat is male or female, and in the end, it simply doesn’t matter. To transcend biological reality is a goal humankind has been fixated on for these many millennia, and here the artist seems to reach into the natural world for a pathway to a higher plane, as well as through the simple concept of walking in another’s shoes. By projecting our minds into other worlds, the show seems to suggest, we find ourselves on the cusp of the Unknown, posed, like these magnificent shoes, before the precipice.

There is one key element to these pieces that cannot go without mention: shoes always come in pairs, yet these shoes are solo. The artist spoke of Lady Jaye often, Genesis’ other half, who left her body in 2007 (in Genesis’ words), and who shared the idea that the two of them were two parts of a whole. The other shoes, then, are missing their partners on the other side, but are not yet unwilling to thrive.

I spoke to the artist about these incredible sculptures, what they mean in regards to Lady Jaye, and the charged objects that form the fascinating story of this show.

'Red Shoe for Susana.'

I love the show. Can you tell me how it came together?

I personally think it’s one of those times when you can say: it’s perfect. Everything in it I wouldn’t change. They’re like little crystalline jewels, and it’s presented just the right way. I don’t know if you saw it when the photograph was up? But that really finishes it, completes it. There’s a photograph of myself and Lady Jaye prior to any surgeries of androgyny, but both looking very androgynous, naked, entwined. When you look it from behind all the shoes, it turns it into a shrine. It’s much more clearly a shrine at that point.

That’s interesting. I love androgyny.

That’s the basic theme, of course—the end of either/or, not just the fluidity of becoming one or another. We had a way of explaining it: some people feel they’re a man trapped in a woman’s body, some people feel they’re a woman trapped in a man’s body, but a pandrogyne feels they’re just trapped in a body. So, that’s why it’s about the end of biological perception—it’s time to totally forget about the package, the ‘cheap suitcase,’ as Jaye would call it, and recognize the self you identify when you say ‘I'—that’s consciousness. It’s not in any way to belittle the progress that’s been made in terms of identity and people like to create their own narrative—it’s that there are no limitations at all except one’s own imagination. Flesh isn’t it. It’s consciousness—that’s who we are, and it’s time to stop being distracted by stereotypes, no matter how radical the stereotype may seem. That’s something we’d been thinking about for a very long time. You said you liked it—what did you feel? I’m curious about how people respond.

I don’t even know. It’s kind of monstrous—it’s fashion meets macabre—but then it’s also playful.

That’s good, you see. It’s nonverbal—it’s bypassing explanations and ways that we perceive things and explain things. When they’re being made it’s very intuitive, it’s almost like a trance state. I don’t know if you saw what they’re made of, the materials, but all those squares of wood that have patents in them—they’re all antique blocks for printing fabric that we collected in Katmandu over the last 30 years. All the shoes have, at some time, belonged to sex workers—transexual dominatrixes, biological female dominatrixes, go-go dancers, strippers, hookers, you name it. All of them have been connected to the interplay between the sexuality, the body and desire.

Then you have all the pieces of iron, the little wiggly ones that actually represent pythons, and the ones that look a bit like umbrellas—they’re all from West Africa, from the voodoo ceremonies that I was initiated in about three years ago when we were making the documentary, where we were investigating. There’s a huge twin cult in voodoo in West Africa, so we were fascinated by what that was about and what it might be, what it might explain, because we felt that we were two parts of one. The minute we got there, the first night we were in the little tiny town square drinking beer, and I was facing a different direction than everyone else and I saw this very tall figure in blue robes and in the shadows that just seemed to float, and as we were looking we said out loud, ‘I think that’s a priest,’ and everyone turned round, but they’d gone, vanished. Then the next day our guide said, ‘Would you like to come and meet our family for dinner?’ so we said, ‘Yeah, of course,’ and we went to their house on that side of the compound behind a wall in the town square—so it wasn’t magic, the father was very tall, he was the high priest of all the voodoo there, as it turned out, and he’d just gone in the gate, but we couldn’t see that in the shadows. So, it wasn’t so mysterious. Then he looked at me and he went, ‘You had a twin, but she died and you’re wearing her gold earrings.’ My hair was down so you couldn’t see my ears, and I was wearing Lady Jaye’s gold earrings. And we always saw each other as the other’s half, as twins, and that’s when they started to initiate me into the twin cult and the python cult. So, all those bits of metal are from that trip, and that investigation. That was three or four years ago, it was over a whole year, the documentary premiered at the Rubin.

I don’t know if you noticed all the little fish, but they were from our fish tank. We’d put feeder fish in for the other fish, and when they died we’d dry them out and keep them. So, everything is little fragments of ritualizing daily life, which made total sense when we were in Africa, or in Kathmandu, with the different tribes of that part of Africa, that’s how they view life—there’s no separation between mystery and mundanity. It’s all interlinked. You can be walking to the office in your office clothes, and literally we saw a woman stop and sacrifice a goat, then carry on to work, and no one looked at her because it’s a part of daily life—this mystery and nonverbal communication and devotion are all absolutely integrated into everything that happens. Domestic or banal objects can actually have great significance if you know more about them, and that’s kind of the root of what we were doing with the show. And shoes are just such a wonderful thing to work with, because they’re already a fetish.

Lady Jaye was your partner?

She was my other half, yeah. She left her body in 2007. She was a professional dominatrix and a registered nurse, so her whole life was about the human body and the tensions of fixing it, and attacking it in a way—that strange combination that people have.

'Shoe Horn 7' and photo of Genesis and Lady Jaye.

So, that’s how you acquired all these shoes?

Yeah, exactly! Later on I started working as a transexual dominatrix in a sex dungeon, too, my name was Lady Sarah—a very strict former English school principal.

You were a dominatrix?

Yeah.

Are any of the shoes yours?

Some of them are, yeah.

I love the taxidermy—well I’m not even sure they’re taxidermy, but I love the use of animals.

There’s a freeze-dried fruit bat in one of them. Isn’t that strange?

'Shoe Horn 3.'

My mom would keep things like that all the time. She had a bat in a little box for a while that she’d found in our garage. We had a lot of taxidermy in our house, so I totally relate to this fascination with preserved animals.

There’s a box as well in the show, I don’t know if you saw it, but all the little papers inside are all genuine heroin bags from the '80s and '90s when they used to give them all special names for branding. So, all of those are in there, and then the little gun, which is a genuine antique pistol, I’ve had that since I was six years old. My father gave it to me when I was a little kid—I used to collect antique weapons. I’ve kept it all that time—for 60 years we’ve held on that, and of course played with it when we were little, and kept it because it’s association with childhood. Then finally it was ready to be used, and it became part of the box. And the two little statues are twins from West Africa, and if you look inside you’ll notice each only has one leg. And we asked about that and they said it’s because they’re only whole when they’re together, which is what myself and Lady Jaye felt—that we were twins and we were only complete when we were together. We were each half of something—something spectacular that could only exist in the union of unconditional surrender.

It’s almost like a time capsule.

Yeah, of course. In a way it’s a journal, almost. Everything within it has been a part of our lives, or has different effects, or represents different times when our ideas changed, or our perceptions adjusted because of new information, or wisdoms we might have collected. So, each one is that encapsulated. They’re almost hieroglyphic. It’s like when you couldn’t explain how you felt about them—that’s what we want. We want them to be like Mayan hieroglyphs—something you look at it and go, ‘I know this is significant, I know this has a lot of thought behind it, it’s the purified essence of all different kinds of lines of thought and different ways of seeing the world and using perception, but I can’t read it, I can only feel it.’

It’s also an interesting comment on fashion. I always think when I see something crazy in a thrift store or a shop, I want to meet the woman who would wear that. I feel that about this show—I want to meet this woman who’s wearing these shoes. You can’t really wear them, but it’s like a fantasy—it’s almost like a goddess.

Right! Absolutely. We have a real belief that objects absorb some kind of energy from the people who keep them and the way those people revere them and what they usually represent to the world outside. You’ll find most people keep things—pebbles and shells from beaches, or bits of driftwood, or like you were saying, taxidermy, things from childhood, little dolls. People all respond to those things, but they’re somehow trained that they have less intrinsic value, when in fact for me they have the most value, because they have an unwritten language that connects everyone. You could take one of those shoes to the Amazon and they’d be equally fascinated by it, the feathers and such. It would still reflect and resonate. You could take it to Kathmandu and the shoe is a religious object, or a shamanic object. It’s a sort of universal language that we’ve often had diluted in the West.

There’s also the satirical reflection of fashion as well. The shoe is an impossible item—why do people wear high-heeled shoes? It’s a ridiculous idea. It’s uncomfortable and difficult—you can break your ankle if you slip. And yet there’s this universal obsession, as well. I wanted to look at that: the impractical but the desirable.

I feel like I’m still reeling from the voodoo element you were talking about. You’ve clearly traveled quite a bit—did you go specifically go for artwork or was it a part of some kind of research?

Research for everything. I often give talks at universities and young students will say, ‘What can I do to have a life like yours?’ or ‘What can I do to be more expansive in my ideas?’ and I just say, ‘Travel! Get out of the United States and travel! Go to Africa and see what poverty really looks like, people who live in one room with a dirt floor and feel blessed that they can eat that day, and they’re not complaining because that’s normal, that’s a good day.' Just to get a sense of proportion. Everywhere you go there are traditions and stories that will teach you things that you won’t learn from the established culture, because it wants to remain established—it wants to remain the main culture. So, to break away from what you’re expected to use as a reference, you have to travel and open up the mind to all sorts of possibilities of addressing the mysteries of existing. That’s why we travel.

'No Mercy.'

It almost seems like your show is about that—the objects are collected from so many different places.

That’s why I said it’s very much like a journal, as well. It’s an act of faith, in a way, that something will be communicated through the interaction of the different items when they’re put together—that it will speak, and I really think it does. The response has been incredible to these shoe sculptures.

They’re really approachable, I think, too, because everybody wears shoes.

There’s a glamour to high heels, too. There’s been a resurgence of a surrealist approach to fashion again recently, as well. A lot of the young designers and photographers are doing a lot of things that are post-Leigh Bowery—very impractical, but incredible visually. They’re not made for everyday, they’re made to literally blow your mind for a moment. I think that’s really healthy and exciting.

I think there’s a return to decadence right now. I don’t know why, but I love it—it’s like, we don’t need this at all, but we do.

We’ve just been involved in a publication online and, I think in print, of something called Dazed Beauty. It’s connected to Dazed and Confused, and it’s dedicated to post-internet, post-technology versions of things that might once have been called glamour, or beauty—people who are interfacing with technology. So, they came to us to be one of the four people on the cover—they’re doing four different covers—because we’re one of the trailblazers of anti-fashion fashion. It’s like suddenly everyone has become Leigh Bowery on ketamine.

But with the shoe sculptures, I can’t really leave my apartment very much at the moment because I’m sick, but I have a little row of black boxes above my bookshelves full of strange little items, and I just made the sculptures out of what was here. It was all here. It was like, this is already in my life. All I did, really, was collect it together and let it coalesce. It was so much fun creating them. It was like, 'There’s a shoe, what’s gonna happen with that shoe? Which of these horns is gonna go with it, and which way?' It was really quite incredible to produce an entire show in one room on the Lower East Side without leaving.

These were all just things that were laying around? Wow.

We were in Wales about twenty years ago and they had a big box of horns, and I said, ‘Just buy the whole box, they’ll be useful some day.’ We held onto them all the way through moving to America and changing houses and homes, and now there they are, all being used. Of course, what happens next, when all my shelves are empty, I don’t know.

'TOWARDS AN END TO BIOLOGICAL PERCEPTION' will be on view at Marlborough Contemporary through Febrary 16.

Lead image: 'Shoe Horn 9.' All images courtesy the gallery.

Art

Allen-Golder Dreams of Smoke

March 22, 2024

In their debut solo exhibition in New York, interdisciplinary artist Allen-Golder Carpenter challenges America’s mass consumption of Black culture. Taking its title from a Cities Aviv track of the same name, To Dream of Smoke deals in the aesthetics and objects found within Hip Hop, pop culture and the prison industrial complex.

In their expansive exploration of Black experiences, the Washington D.C. based artist creates sculptural works sourced from the mundane: electric scales, ski masks, Instagram posts, inmate property bags, Domino sugar, screenshots of The Boondocks. The ambitious project includes a sound installation made in collaboration with multi-talented Playboi Carti affiliate Blackhaine and the To Dream of Smoke / 100 Rappers book, a visual study of contemporary rap.

The exhibition is on display at No Gallery in the Lower East Side until April 7th, 2024.

Words by Jard Lerebours
Images courtesy of No Gallery / Allen-Golder Carpenter

With To Dream of Smoke, Allen merges his art practice and love of rap music. He explains the influence of rap on his work, “I love rap music because it's so thick with lingo and many times very regionally specific terminology and accents that I wonder how much someone outside of this music culturally understands when listening?” This question of understanding and viewership is at the center of Allen’s exhibition, the latest entry in Allen’s “Body Surrogate” series which presents and reimagines representational depictions of Black masculinity. His pieces have been exhibited in spaces around the world including Screw Gallery, Galerie Kandlhofer, Von Ammon Co. and Icebox Project Space.

The Race 1, 2023-2024

Allen uses late 2010’s viral rapper Tay K as an entry point to force viewers to confront our complicity in systems that force Black boys into survival tactics. In The Race, he juxtaposes Tay K’s first photo posted from jail with the platinum certification for his song "The Race" aligning them with a shattered hand mirror. The piece shows the disconnect between the commercial success of Tay K’s brief rap career and the broken systems currently shaping his life. He asks us to reconsider the media portrayals of Tay K, “How much can we judge the actions of a child fighting for survival, what if instead of just punishing him, we punished the society that failed him?”

The Race 2, 2024

In The Race 2, Allen takes inspiration from Gil Scott Heron’s “Pieces of a Man" and recreates the photo of Tay K through an assemblage of inmate property inventory bags. In addition, the bags contain a shredded shirt and shattered glass. Using this construction, he visualizes the dehumanization and humiliation that occurs within the United States’ prison system.

Untitled (self portrait), 2024

In Untitled (self portrait), Allen pairs a portrait of Maryland rapper Q Da Fool with a ski mask stretched over a bag of powdered sugar. He tells me about the encounter that inspired the piece, "I used to wear ski masks to try and look tough or unapproachable. One time, someone came right up to me and felt at ease talking to me because of my soft, even sweet eyes”. Through this interrogation of Black masculinity and its performance, Allen questions the desire to appear intimidating in the first place.

I Choose Violence, 2024

In I Choose Violence, Allen draws attention to the mental health crises within the Black community particularly impacting Black men. The piece which consists of photographs and scales is named after the song “I Choose Violence” by Atlanta rapper Glokk40spaz, Allen was inspired by a line in the song where Glokk40spaz alludes to self harm. Allen was taken aback by this break in armor and related through his own struggles around body dysmorphia and an eating disorder. These experiences are aligned in the piece through the grouping of a bathroom scale and digital scale for weighing drugs.

Catch To Dream of Smoke at No Gallery before it goes.

Art

Gerald Lovell Finds Beauty in the Mundane

March 19, 2024

Gerald Lovell isn't trying to make a statement. He rejects the idea that portrayals of Blackness are inherently political. He's simply documenting what happens around him. His latest exhibition, Verde, now showing at PPOW Gallery, captures otherwise fleeting moments of his closest friends and loved ones. However, the self-taught artist is meticulous in their recreations, combining impressionist painting with an impasto technique — both techniques rely on the attention and accumulation of the miniscule.

Lovell takes these seemingly unimportant moments and does what every great artist does best: notices. He pays attention to details that create their own narratives. Whether it's the simplicity of a dinner or the moment of contact in a warm embrace, Lovell immortalizes the ephemera in his canvases. And with Verde, Lovell embarks on a journey of self-discovery through monumental portraits that invited viewers into the depths of his mind.

Text by Sara Eldewak
Images courtesy of PPOW Gallery and Gerald Lovell

Self Portrait (31), 2024

oil on panel 60 x 48 ins.

(LOVELL-086)

Portals (Cala Deià), 2024
oil on panel 60 x 48 ins.
(LOVELL-088)

Born in 1992 in Chicago, IL to Puerto Rican and African American parents — Gerald Lovell began painting professionally at 22, and has been beautifully capturing candid moments ever since. When asked about one of his most intimate pieces, a group portrait featured in the exhibition named Untitled, Lovell calls it “an act of biography." "These are all scenarios in which we're living.” The moments that he captures are universal, and there's a palpable sense of tenderness in the communal aspect of his candids.

Discussing his perspective as an artist, he emphasized the importance of embracing his subjects, "I'm meditating on things we may take for granted. Traveling, eating, friends, I cherish it all." It's clear when speaking to him that painting gives him a sense of purpose, and that his work is deeply personal, “Everyone I paint is a friend of mine.” From a friend to the hit Hulu series The Bear, his list of references is encyclopedic and expansive. He praises The Bear's capability to beautify simple moments in the kitchen like cutting vegetables, or even decorating a plate reminds him of painting. “Restaurants are feeding you an experience, and I'd like to do the same in my work."

Ant on His Patio, 2024

oil on panel 72 x 60 ins.

(LOVELL-083)

Lovell finds the majesty in moments that are like any other. From intimate portraits of friends grilling, as seen in Ant on his Patio, to images of strangers committed to memory, it's evident that Lovell uses painting as a form of therapy and sacred outlet that allows him to access memories hidden in his mind. It was evident while speaking with him that his work is handled with care, and an extrospective view of the people and world around him.

Untitled (Christian's Birthday), 2023

oil on panel 72 x 60 ins.

(LOVELL-080)

To just capture everyday life and value it because it was lived, in the most honest way possible.

Waiting I, 2023

oil on panel 24 x 24 ins.

(LOVELL-079)

Daria, 2024 oil on panel

72 x 60 ins.

(LOVELL-084)

Art

Oda Jaune on Transformation, Divine Femininity and Magic in 'Miss Understand'

At the core of “Miss Understand” is a celebration of the divine feminine, or the spark that birthed humanity into existence, as well as a profound respect and admiration for the resilience of women to embrace the multidimensionality of their identities from within a society that has historically limited their agency to do so. She achieves this by masterfully invoking a visual language of repeating symbols: eyes, lit candles, fleshy body parts, serpents, and Barbies, etc. that seemingly invites the viewer to try and connect the dots while at the same time resisting the very idea that there is a rational or logical way to view or experience life or the exhibition. "Miss Understand" was on view at Templon Gallery in NYC through March 9th, 2024.

Emann Odufu: It took me a while to process the exhibition. I was initially overwhelmed by that level of detail. I was at the exhibition in the installation space with some friends, and we heard a humming noise coming from a box. It took us a second to realize that the box was a refrigerator. We opened it up, and there were apples in the fridge.

It wasn't until I started to look at Miss Understand as a character that I began to see her not as a representation of you solely as an artist but as a holistic representation of femininity in the modern world that I began to wrap my head around the exhibition. Miss Understand felt like a play on Miss Universe and every woman. My first question is for you, the artist, who is Miss Understand?

Oda Jaune: I’m so happy that you opened the door of the refrigerator. When I was working on the installation, I loved to imagine the viewer to experience the exhibition with their eyes and hands and to lie down on the bed, sit on the chairs, discover the overpainted books, and spend time in the space so they become part of the installation themselves.

“Miss Understand” is not a particular woman. It is not me. It is no woman and at the same time maybe every woman. It’s also for everybody who feels like a woman. I came up with the title on a walk with my daughter. We were looking at people's T-shirts because there was often a slogan written on them. She asked me if I had to design a t-shirt with only text, what would it be. The first thing that came to my mind was “Miss Understand” and I said that I would divide the word into two.

It's something in the nature of the woman that it is impossible to be understood. Extending it further, I think it’s in the nature of a human to not to be understood. How absurd is it to me that we are living in a time of so many numbers, facts, algorithms and scientific proofs that bring us further away from (our) nature. We're forgetting about magic and things that are not so easy to understand. When you have the feeling and understand something, you put it in a box, label it and maybe you get a key and close the file forever and say “Oh, this is this way” and you are limiting yourself. I feel almost allergic to the idea of labeling the world, people, history, everything that we try to put in a box.

Within the work there may be questions for the viewer, for their answers to arise but they don't need to position themselves and don't need to judge. Our world is so polarized. You must choose left or right, for or against, which constantly puts us in separation and division. How about making it more open for us to make mistakes and for misunderstandings and more freedom?

EO: I think that that makes a lot of sense. I saw that throughout the show, there's this idea of subverting duality or this idea that in the process of misunderstanding, there's this sort of mystery that is confronted and acknowledged. As the viewer, you see the exhibition and try to make sense of it all, but try as you may, you won't see it from the vantage point of you, the artist, and It's almost futile to try to understand.

I want to talk about the performance art piece happening on the show's last day, which I'm excited to see, and where you will animate Miss Understand in a personified form. As an artist, I love that you dig into the multidisciplinary aspect of your practice and constantly push the limitations of how you engage with your audience. I read that in the last show at Templon in Paris, you had a hologram of the Tree of Life, and now you're activating this current exhibition through performance art. Can you talk about how you're constantly reinventing your practice and your approach to toggling between these various mediums as you engage your audience?

OJ: I love that you found information and the little journey that I had with the hologram. I loved it because it was the pandemic, and the real situation where we could reset individually and as a society. I was asking existential questions, and I thought about how we're living in a world that is, for me, even though it's so dominated by inventions of our time, it is still quite magical. It's almost like another reality within our reality. I was working on this show during covid lockdown thinking about how there’s something invisible you couldn't see, you know it's in the air. I found it fascinating that we were in such a frenzy over something invisible and how it could, for a moment, change everything in our world. This thought process around visible and invisible, tangible and translucent, leads to an interest in holograms. The more I researched, I understood that I would have to create my own technique for creating a hologram, because the best things happen when you have a limited budget.

I said “OK, let's think about what we can do if we improvise.” So we created something, and it actually worked. It was like magic because we didn't have much, and it was such an improvisation and the people who loved it from all age groups were touched by it. For me, it's about how real I can make an idea and what techniques permit me to execute those visions.

I was trained as a painter and when I was younger, I really loved observing the human body. I thought it's just so incredible. Humans in general. I really love nature and observing the light and the shadow and how everything changes constantly. I honestly don't remember a moment in my life when I have been bored. What a stunning experience it is having eyes. Painting oil on canvas is the closest I can come to what I have as a vision. At some point, I reached a stage where I can paint everything that I imagine, so I created sculpture to see how I would feel when my ideas become three dimensional. When I was a young girl, I loved working with clay, the softness of it. I was also intrigued by wood and stone, marble but then I was told that, because I was a woman, I would only be able to work on small things because physically I would never be able to do what men can. I accepted that and focused on painting. Because I wanted to be as free as possible as an artist and I do love painting in an unconventional way, but I didn’t stop loving sculptures, so later I reapproached sculpture again.

One day, my daughter asked me if I wasn’t a painter what I would do in my next life. I realized that I would love to do movies, but I want to do movies that I only need to do myself. That's why there are six short videos in the exhibition and I loved making them.

EO: I'm also a filmmaker, and when I was in the installation, I thought that as I looked at the videos, whether you are shooting the videos with a crew or you're shooting them yourself.

Alone. I really love making films, combining pictures and sounds. The whole thing is moving. With painting, you have just one shot. A study found that visitors look for less than two seconds, turn and read the explanatory text for an additional 10 seconds and then move on. So, you have to decide which moment to paint and that takes months and months in order to make a difference in a span of seconds.

EO: And now you're venturing into performance art.

OJ: I am very excited though about the performance art piece because Claudia is a very special human being that I love as a dear friend. One day, she showed me something with her hands and the way she moved her finger in a way to symbolize humans, it was like a symphony, and I imagined it as a whole movie. I asked her if she wanted to collaborate for the exhibition. I love to imagine what she is going to do and love not knowing what is going to happen on that day. It’s the same with all of my paintings. When I start painting, I never know what's going to happen. What I dream of is creating a feeling of “Miss Understand “ being a real human - only the feeling that was at the core of our collaboration for the performance you are going to see on the final last day of the show. The aim was to put this feeling in a real human that will grow and materialize itself in a living, moving, breathing, heart beating woman inside the gallery space for 8 hours existing as real as every one of us. Claudia will be performing and the viewer can enter the space and decide how close and involved they want to be. Claudia Hilda is for me one of the most incredible artists with that one of a kind ability to become a pure feeling by giving up on all she is, on all knowledge and abilities, techniques and styles she has, the language, the speech to become Miss Understand.

EO: There is a quality of artistic rebellion in your work that I enjoy. Both aesthetically and with the symbols you use very well. The viewer's experience of your work has been described as deciphering a crossword puzzle, a complex web of various cues that appear from out of your subconscious and that force the viewer to confront their relation to the world and their internal belief systems. Miss Understand does not exist in a vacuum and builds on a visual language you have built throughout your career. It's a language only you speak, but the viewer can feel it. As an artist, how did you come to know yourself in such a way that you can render your subconscious into a visual language that people can feel?

OJ: I don't know but I'm going to search for an answer to give you. The thing I can tell you is that I can't work if there is somebody else around me. If there is someone else in the studio, I never reach the concentration that I need to forget the outside world. I start with something that moves me. There are certain things where there is a longing. Something I am deeply moved by, something I can’t find peace with unless I can transform it and bring it to the other side.

It doesn’t even need to be politics; it can be something like how we come into this world without choosing where and when you are dropped here and then you deal with it and then on top of that you're going to be taken away at a certain moment. Maybe this is what I really don't like as a feeling, probably like all of us I don’t like the feeling of fear or the feeling of not being able to change things or that I don’t have any power to make a change. In a way, I search for a way to deal with the reality of what is really happening in the world with eyes wide open. I reject closing them. These things move me and touch me, and I want to fight. I did start as a child with the dream to change the world. I suppose painting was my tool.

When I was 12, I moved to Germany. I could not speak the language and the kids were kind of cruel and thought I was stupid. I really couldn't express myself, I just had the basics. So, I started drawing to communicate and it worked. They were able to understand me. In this moment, I saw how many things you can say with an image. If you think of all the emojis that we send and how one heart emoji has thousands of words inside of it and there is something so open about it.

When I was a child I loved going to the library, and I would search for books with images, and I spent hours and hours and I would “read" through observing images. So, I think it's the way I get the most information. I believe my ideas come from tapping into my subconscious. It’s through the subconscious that everything comes. Your subconscious is working for you during the day and night when you're not conscious. It's a huge sea of everything and it has its own intelligence. For many centuries people believed a lot more in this other part of our intelligence and it’s a lot less respected these days. Today we are more confident about the visible things, the rational, the facts that can be scientifically proven. However, there is some truth on the other side and when I reach the point of being in tune with it, it is usually in the morning. I just love silence when I'm alone. I always start quite disciplined and controlled, but there comes the moment where all this control is lost and I’m working and not hungry and I don't know how fast time goes by, this is the most precious time and that is where the important decisions take place.

Someone told me you are born many times in your life, and you also die many times in your life and I love that, but I wanted to talk about the very first time.

EO: Birth and creation ( to ourselves, to the other, to the world) is a strong theme in your practice In this exhibition we see the connection to Birth through your depictions of the womb and pink fleshy matter, most prominently in your work entitled "M is for Mother". It's also seen in your depiction or cap nod to the biblical creation story and how that has shaped the perception of women in modern culture. Can you reflect on this theme of Birth and Creation and how it's a thread carried throughout your practice and even into your artistic philosophy?

OJ: Someone told me you are born many times in your life, and you also die many times in your life and I love that, but I wanted to talk about the very first time. The biggest painting in the show M for Mother, is about coming to earth, dedicated to the one that gave us life, the biggest present, to the mother. We often think we have freedom of choice in life, but the biggest choice has been done for us, it is not done by ourselves. What happens? Where do we come from? It all begins with pain, the first breath you take on earth is painful and your mother will be in such pain. They say that when you're born several times in your life very often it happens after a very difficult situation and you're able to start a new life. One of the most dramatic things that can happen in life is having a chance to be reborn, reinvent yourself, to reset and start new. Many of the paintings capture moments of change or transformation. You have someone of something becoming something else.

EO: One great example is "B, like Barbie."

OJ: Yes, B like Barbie is also about that. I had many barbies when I was a child and when I started painting this painting, I had no idea there would be a movie about it and it had nothing to do with that. When I was in New York, I went to see it, but I found that I just really wanted to fall asleep. I didn't watch it until the end, but what I did see was this constantly beautiful young plastic doll. But you are never the same. Depending on how you feel, how much sun you have taken in, how healthy you are, what you ate, how you slept, how much water you drink, you are never the same. Even after you go to sleep, your mind and feelings are still active because you had certain dreams that you might forget on the next day, but you change. Regardless if you forget your dreams, you are still altered by them. You are not the same. So this idea of one-dimensionality is problematic. Birth is something to be so grateful for and it is important to never forget that. At a certain point, there is so much thinking of who I am and not of how I have been born.