Know Thy Selfie

September 08, 2018

Fischer Cherry wants you to think long and hard before posting your next selfie—but not about which one makes you look the hottest, which is it’s own long, hard decision. Consider your motivation. Consider your audience. Consider your… self.

Her work is simple and pure: golden idols take their own selfies, all of the figures female, surrounded by paintings that depict reflections in these same sculptures—distorted faces of women—similar to those versions that are posted to the ether, hoping for likes, shouting into the void and waiting for an answer. Are women better off now that they can control their own image? Or do they still appeal to the male gaze?

These are the questions that haunt Fischer Cherry—and now, they'll probably haunt you, too.

Interview by John Martin Tilley

Tell me about your work.

I was always very intrigued by LGBTQI in the U.S. being really successful as a movement, and being able to push through a lot of legislative change, and I was like, “Why is the women’s movement struggling so much?” They can’t really unify—not unify, that’s not the right word, but mobilize something tangible, or legislatively. So much of the women’s movement is about talking about intersectionality, and that idea has been around for about 30 years, where various women’s lib experiences, their level of oppression is based on race, class, socioeconomic status, country, religion, ableism, sexual orientation. But all those things exist equally in the LGBTQI community, and they somehow—I mean, I can’t say if they’ve adjusted perfectly, but they’ve been able to pick one issue, and push it through, and it changes the world and people’s minds. Of course, I try to understand intersectionality as much as I can as a white woman, but I do feel like there’s an immediate connection between women, just based on our commonality in identifying as women—with trans women too. So, there must be some things that are universal—like patriarchy.

Across cultures, religions, races—in every country in the world, there's patriarchy, and an inequality between men and women that's basically linked to toxic masculinity. And that's where the male gaze comes in. Obviously, the way I present my sexuality is very different from how a Muslim Pakistani woman would, for example, but even within the U.S. it gets quite complicated. So, I really wanted to explore that. What does it mean? Is it possible to view ourselves outside of the male gaze? Can you separate yourself? And what does it mean to be a woman? Of course, there’s space for a million types, but you’re either completely catering to the male gaze, you’re neutral, or you’re rebelling against it entirely, and is there a way to exist without that somehow influencing how you view yourself?

Your answers to those questions are obviously going to be very different than say, that Muslim Pakistani woman. So, how do you think your experiences as a white woman in America effected your work?

Most white women descend from what’s called 'the cult of domesticity,’ or ‘true womanhood.’ Growing up I was just like, 'Wait, what?' I mean, I had always thought that was what it meant to be a so-called lady, and a lot of it descends from Puritanical Protestant culture.

Oh God yes, it all goes back to that, doesn’t it?

Yeah. So, virtue is referred to as ‘true womanhood,’ and the four virtues are: piety, purity, submission and domesticity. So, even though I live in New York, and I’m an artist, there’s certain things that are just in my brain—even if I’m rejecting them, they’re still there. I mean, I'm from the Midwest.

Where did you grow up?

In a suburb of Chicago. Honestly, the Midwest is a culture unto itself, and I went to Northwestern so I didn’t leave until after college.

Right. So you were thinking about the male gaze—is that how you ended up with the selfie statues?

Totally. And I'd even say that a lot of it has become internalized—like an internalized male gaze. So, a lot of African American women would be combatting it but the way they represent themselves, celebrating their hair and their bodies, because for so many years they were taught to be ashamed of those things, and told that beauty is a European definition. But what they're doing is so different than what I would need to do, because that's not my experience—mine is something totally different. So, it's really not about me telling people what's wrong or right—it's me trying to get people to look at themselves and ask questions. Why am I doing this? Does this make me feel better or am I taking selfies for an audience?

So, for you, the selfie in the context of your art stems from self-analysis.

Exactly. Specifically the life-size sculptures, and the idea of having women from different ethnic backgrounds posing as a reference point.

Is all of your work specifically about women?

Not necessarily. It started off that way, and I definitely think trans women are a part of the conversation as well. But it's just about getting people to think about themselves differently, and their relationship to their bodies, and hair, and what have you. So, originally, it was all about people who identify as female, but towards the end I was like, 'Wait a minute, this is connected to toxic masculinity.' So, if I was to bring new themes on, I would definitely include men who bucked that trend in some way, because I do think that’s an important aspect of this conversation. I mean, we don’t all exist in a vacuum—we all have to move together a little bit as a society. But I do think that anyone who identifies as a woman, the only way for them to obtain power, even on a subversive level, is based on their appearance, and how many people find them beautiful—that's a constant message. Even those movements on social media, on one hand, can be really powerful. Like, thick eyebrows, unibrows, whatever are beautiful—but you’re still saying that beauty is the most important thing. We just put so much emphasis on these things to say that’s what’s relevant, and that if that’s what's considered beautiful, then you’ve achieved power.

It's really not about me telling people what's wrong or right—it's me trying to get people to look at themselves and ask questions.

Do you feel like social media is problematic in that way, or just an exacerbation of something that’s already going on in society? I always think of it as just an extension of everything that's already going on.

I think it’s a reflection of the collective unconscious. I’m not saying those movements are entirely bad, but I definitely think that everything has to be more nuanced, and more conversations need to be happening. Everything is not that simple. I definitely understand that need, or want, to be considered beautiful, but it’s very strange to me on social media because it’s not like, 'Oh, I can find a life partner, or someone will fall in love with me and I’ll fall in love with them.' Instead, it’s more like, 'Oh I need a fan club that considers me beautiful in order for me to be important and have power.' That, to me, is very bizarre. You would never hear a man say, 'Oh man, man-tits are sexy, saggy balls are sexy'—that’s not even a part of the conversation. So, I just try to reframe things, and if this is what one group is doing, and there’s another group saying that, how ridiculous does it all sound?

So, you’re work deals a lot with beauty, as well.

Right. And obviously I have long hair, and wear makeup, and I do those things because I enjoy them. It's not like I’m not trying to be super militant about things—I just wish there were more conversations about what's important beyond beauty, and unfortunately, I don’t see a ton of that on social media. In art, for centuries women have been captured by men, for other men, but through technology, women have gained authorship over their own images, and the way they’re represented. But how are we using that? How are we furthering the conversation? And is it enough? How can we be doing better, or doing more, or making it more nuanced?

How do you think women are doing that? How are they handling their authorship? Can you answer your own questions?

I think it’s enough that it’s confusing to me, because I don’t necessarily only follow redheads from the Midwest—I follow women from all over the world, and trans women, and trans men. That does sort of shift how I think of things on some level, but then I have to sit down and question what that means—for me and for them. It’s not for me to pass judgment on other people, like I said, people have different cultural legacies and I'm not going to be ethnocentric and judge another culture by my set of values. So, it’s not for me to say whether or not you should post something. Maybe that selfie is you celebrating your sexuality, and maybe that means something totally different to you. It’s really just about how people feel about themselves.

I always think of social media as a very edited version of yourself. You have so much control over how you present yourself, if you present yourself at all—sometimes it feels like you’re selling yourself, like a ‘brand.’

That’s definitely true, but I think it’s an echoing part of the collective unconscious, and that’s why I think it’s so fascinating. Part of the exhibition is these rotary phones dangling like a chandelier into the sculptures, because before, phones were literally used to disseminate information, like a phone tree—do you remember those? It’s something our moms did. But now, phones are really how you construct your identity. Even for children—who they’re friends with, and who they’re tagging—those are super complex things.

It's interesting when you think of the rotary phone. In terms of identity, with a phone back in the day, it was just your voice—now it’s your face. So, everything is all image. But back then, it had to do with your actual communication, as opposed to now, where everything is so non-verbal, and about beauty.

Maybe as Americans, once we’ve seen enough nudity, we’ll graduate to being like Europeans, and we won’t even care about it, you know? Europeans just have a totally different relationship with their bodies, and how they think of them, and even aging. I remember being on nude beaches in France and thinking, 'No way! There’s a whole family over there, and they’re just seeing each other naked and don't even care.' I mean, I’m not saying that all social media is bad—I just want people to challenge themselves more. Even for myself, with intersectional feminism—I think it's hugely important, and something we’ll probably continue to explore for the rest of my lifetime. It probably won’t be resolved anytime soon.

You mention intersectional feminism a lot. How does it play into your work?

The paintings kind of relate, because I take photos of women’s reflections in the hand part of my sculptures. So, I’m looking over their shoulder with a cell phone camera and taking a photo of their reflections against different backdrops around New York. The reason I did that—or at least, my argument is that any image I post, or you post, or anyone around us posts, impacts this collective unconscious, and leaves this ephemeral imprint on some level. I think a lot about how these images are impacting other people—is this a responsible photo? I don’t know if there’s a wrong or right answer, but I always ask myself that question, and I think it’s something we should consider more. So, the paintings have the hands of the sculptures, and the reflection isn’t a perfect mirror image, so it's kind of like what you said—it’s a very edited version of ourselves, and if it’s so edited, we should be in control of making them more positive. I mean, I see so many kids on Instagram emulating adult behavior, and I don't know all of the answers, but I know we should at least be thinking about these things.

"Between Our Ears" will be on view at Garis & Hahn Gallery through October 20 in LA.

Photos courtesy of the artist and Garis Hahn Gallery.

Art

LIA by Iga Drobisz

Your work often explores intimacy and vulnerability. How do you create a safe and authentic environment for your subjects during a shoot?

The past few months, I’ve been working on two series of photographs: nudes of women in their own apartments and portraits of women before and after giving birth. Both series involve capturing them in deeply personal spaces—bedrooms or nurseries—where they feel at ease.

Shooting in their spaces, in their own beds, plays a crucial role in creating comfort. I choose film and cameras that show them in a way they find beautiful and empowering, emphasizing softness and warmth. It's a stark contrast to modern, hyper-detailed phone cameras that sometimes reveal more than one wants to see.

Your photography has a distinct emotional depth and texture. How do you approach the interplay of light, color, and composition to achieve this?

My process is highly intuitive. I’ve never formally studied photography or apprenticed under anyone—I learned by experimenting and seeing what felt right. It’s about trusting my instincts rather than adhering to rigid rules.

What role do personal experiences or cultural influences play in shaping the stories you tell through your images? Many of your photographs feel deeply narrative.

Growing up, I was surrounded by great cinematography. My grandmother had a TV, but my mom only brought home VHS tapes—films with substance. I think that exposure shaped how I see the world, how I approach subjects, and the narrative depth in my work.

What role does spontaneity play in your shoots? Do you leave room for improvisation, or is everything carefully planned?

To balance spontaneity and structure, I go in with a clear plan and strong direction, but I remain open to surprises. It’s about letting the subject feel like the shoot is about them, not me. That openness often leads to the most unexpected, meaningful moments.

What inspired the shoot with singer Lia? How did it come together?

Collaborating with Ruby and Naomi always takes me out of my comfort zone in the best way. For this shoot, we wanted to transform someone with an iconic face but also someone like Lia—someone with a clear sense of self.

Giving her a completely new look was exciting; it brought an unexpected energy to the set. The approach was playful and experimental. The night before, I had no idea what wigs Ruby would bring or what colors Naomi might choose. It was a beautiful mix of spontaneity and collaboration.

What inspires you the most?

Movies and music are big inspirations for me, as well as the work of other photographers like Carlijn Jacobs, Harley Weir, Rineke Dijkstra, Charlotte Wales, and Nan Goldin.

What emotions or truths are the hardest for you to express through your art, and why?

I don’t think I consciously try to express specific emotions when I work. Instead, I follow what feels right in the moment—what draws me in or excites me that day. It’s less about a deliberate expression and more about letting intuition guide the way.

Art

Luna Luna: Surrealist Spectacle Lands in New York

November 21, 2024

In the 1980s, André Heller, an Austrian artist, singer-songwriter, and former actor, was looking for a new place to showcase his art. He had already taken to gardens, creating a colorful, surrealistic character using 40,000 flowers, and to the skies, organizing a 'fire theatre,' which involved an over-the-top fireworks show complete with steel-frame sculptures set on fire. But he had never tried out a fair.

So began "Luna Luna." Created as the world's first art carnival, "Luna Luna" combined the spectacular with the absurd, showcasing original rides and attractions from rising and already-at-the-top artists in Hamburg. Nearly forty years since its debut, followed by foiled plans for a worldwide tour, breached contracts, and 44 storage containers, the art fair has finally returned, calling New York home after re-debuting last year in Los Angeles.

By Hailey Johnson
Photography by Delvin Claro and Sabrina Sarnitz, courtesy of Luna Luna LLC

On a recent evening in Hudson Yards, a small carousel featured characters in quirky, Twister-like poses and an outstretched dog with seven legs. (Almost a century old, the rides are no longer rideable.) Goofy wooden sculptures were elevated in another corner, some of them cross-eyed or with a horn for a nose. A geodesic dome glowed, with Gregorian chants hovering somewhere above it.

"It's an art experience like no other," Michael Goldberg, Chief Experience Officer of Luna Luna, said recently. "People get to see artists do things they've never done before," he added.

Goldberg, founder of Something Special Studios, a creative agency behind many Nike campaigns, was determined to resurrect “Luna Luna” after reading about it online in 2019. Goldberg shopped for investors, eventually teaming up with DreamCrew, a media company co-owned by the rapper Drake. (Details on the company's investment remain vague; sources have reported that DreamCrew spent over "100 million dollars.") In 2022, an intensive restoration process began, with a team of artists reviving many of the original works, which had remained in boxes in a Texas warehouse for over thirty years. Several had been in pieces. (The team reportedly had to rebuild each work "bolt by bolt.")

That night, at the Shed, fourteen out of the original thirty-five works were on display, including the small carousel (Keith Haring), the goofy sculptures (Kenny Scharf), the neon dome (Salvador Dali), and a towering Ferris wheel decorated in drawings of stick figures, upside crowns, and references to Jim Crow (Basquiat). Missing works are in a "constant state of restoration," Goldberg said. Meanwhile, new attractions are joining the line-up. For the New York show, the Puerto Rican duo Poncilí Creación was commissioned to create "PonciliLand," a blink-and-you-miss-it section where guests "can create fantastical characters out of custom building blocks." Poncili also developed floating characters, inspired by performers who circulated the original “Luna Luna” fairgrounds in 1987. Known as "Lovers," the two characters, large and dreamlike, teetered to one side, mumbling the kind of nervous groans one does before a fall. (They never ended up falling.)

I asked Goldberg if, given that today's culture doesn't quite look or feel the same way as it did in 1987, there was any hesitation in showing some of the original works. On a back wall, a tribute featured Manfred Diex's "Palace of the Wind," a show featuring performers who fart into a microphone; on another, two ornate pedestals held sculptures of spiral poop.

"I don't see any reason why we wouldn't show any of these works," he said. "A lot of the time, art is exclusive and uninviting. The big difference between “Luna Luna” and other art experiences is that it has many sides to it, and things that have a bit of humor and playful energy. "As for "Palace of the Winds,” the decision to keep it was simple: farting is universal. He went on: "The “Crap Chancellery" is, conceptually, one of the most important works in “Luna Luna.” Daniel Spoerri's dad was killed in the Holocaust, and the work was inspired by Albert Speer, who was Hitler's architect. He took the facade of what was meant to be a Nazi shrine and turned it into the facade of a bathroom with two steaming statues of shit standing on the outside. These works are extremely important and are things that we would definitely want to honor and draw attention to."

As “Luna Luna” further develops, the show will likely change. "It will continue to evolve as we go to different cities in response to the spaces that we pop up into and in collaboration with the local city," Goldberg said." With it, there will be new characters and new stories to tell. One aspect that won't change, though, as Goldberg assured, is a long-held sentiment about a potential partnership. At one point, early on during the original “Luna Luna” era, McDonald's wanted to buy into it. Heller said no, adding that he "didn't want it to feel like Disneyland." Goldberg agreed. Nonetheless, as I watched Kenny Scharf's dizzying swing ride go around for what felt like the hundredth time, with the cartoon characters decorated on it blurring together (one with a villain's grin, another morphed into a martini glass), I couldn't help but feel like maybe I was at Disneyland, only not as robbed, but just as entertained and exhausted by its rides and fantastical characters, and wanting to go again.

Luna Luna, Hamburg, Germany, 1987.

Art

Pamela Sneed’s Speaking Tongue opens at Dashwood Projects

November 15, 2024

Pamela Sneed’s latest exhibition, Speaking Tongue, will be on view at Dashwood Projects from November 20 to December 21. The show features twenty watercolor and ink paintings inspired by her recent trip to Kenya, where she was deeply moved by the elegance of giraffes, the landscapes, and the energy of Nairobi.

Blending her background as a poet and visual artist, Sneed’s work reflects on themes of identity, nature, and connection. Her paintings capture the beauty and spirit of the animals she encountered, alongside reflections on her own experiences as part of the African diaspora.

This exhibition marks Sneed’s first solo show with Dashwood Projects and will be accompanied by a new book, also titled Speaking Tongue, to be released in December.