We take our seats in an authentic lecture theatre, lines of
desks still intact with hard backed seats to keep students upright in some of
the more soporific lectures. The lights go down; Gnarls Barkley's 'Crazy'
comes over the stereo. And here she is, with a mass of white hair luminous
before the light of the projection lamp. Clutching a knobbly branch and
purposefully-nonchalantly waving a rope at her audience, she slowly descends
the staircase between the desks. Has she finally lost it? No one is quite sure
what to make of this slightly bizarre entrance. She reaches the stage. 'Okay,
I'm in control.' she says with a mischievous half-smile. And so we are
introduced to the artist’s curious and unique wry humour which lightens even
the darkest subject matter. Over a career of over forty years, Schneemann’s
work has addressed less than palatable issues: the falling figures of 9/11,
animal abuse, and themes of gender identity which she acknowledges can be
‘hostile and aggressive’ but she twists to make them ironic: ‘I can’t be
cynical.’
Schneemann’s talk was engaging, lively and personal. She discussed
the iconographical importance of less obvious motifs beyond the commonly
identified themes of gender identity and sexuality in her work, beginning with
what she called ‘predictive drawings’ from childhood. The staircase for example
is important for the moment of 'gravitational uncertainty between steps'; the
cat serves as a 'central form of narrative' that 'defines space' and serves as
a symbol of 'comfort and intra-species communication'. 'It's really well done
don't you think?' she says of a drawing that appears to be a cat jumping out of
a box, completed by the artist at the young age of 4. 'I'm very fond of it; I
call it the ecstatic cat'.
Asked if she was still making new work, Schneemann’s response
was incredulous: ‘Are you kidding? Does a bear shit in the woods?’ This summer at
Summerhall she has created something of a sensual experience where projections
overlap and bleed into one another, and the soundtracks from each of the
different installations combine as a mass of clicks, whisperings and distant
rumblings that fills the space. Schneemann has revisited past performance and
reinvigorated their documentation by ripping up vintage photographic prints and
laying them on the floor, and re-mixing footage with other, newer imagery. The
exhibition Remains To Be Seen runs until 27th September.
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