Mary Kelly

Interim Part I: Corpus, Supplication, 1984-85, Laminated photo positive, silkscreen, acrylic on Plexiglas

2 Details from Menace, Laminated photo positive, silkscreen, acrylic on Plexiglas 30 panels total, 36 x 48 x 2 inches

Interim, Part III: Historia, 1989, Oxidized steel, silkscreen, stainless steel on wood base, 4 units, 61 x 36 x 29 ins. each

1 detail from  Appel), 1984-85, Laminated photo positive, silkscreen, acrylic on Plexiglas, 2 of the 30 panels, each: 36 x 48 in. (90 x 122.5 cm)

Interium Part I: Corpus, Extase (detail), 1986, Laminated photo positive, silkscreen and acrylic on Plexiglas, 36 by 48 by 2 in.  91.44 by 121.92 by 5.8 cm. each.

Mary Kelly

1-6) Interim, Part I: Corpus, 1984-85
(detail, Menacé)
Laminated photo positive,
Silkscreen, acrylic on Plexiglas
Each pictured is 1 of 30 panels,
90 x 122.5 cm each

7) Interim: Corpus, Preliminary Artwork, 1984, Detail

8-9) Interim, 1984 – 89
Installation View
New Museum of Contemporary Art, New York, 1990

“INTERIM examines the woman-as-subject as she enters middle age, a time when her
increasing invisibility and powerlessness in the masculine world may lead her to
experience vividly her own “constructedness.” Conspicuously absent in most
novels, films, and ads, the older woman is not considered sexy because she’s no
longer seen to be a useful measure of a man’s potency. Because power accrues to a
woman in a patriarchy by virtue of her body’s procreative capacities and its potential
for fetishization, the aging or aged female body becomes a relic, a site of loss. For
1 Kelly, this loss of power lodged in the body renders transparent the economic,
political, and cultural conditions that deprive a woman of power-the very
conditions which simultaneously keep her from her own subjectivity. 

Weaving together divergent positions of relative distance and closeness, neutrality
and engagement, fact and fantasy, from both a personal and political perspective,
Kelly explores the relational aspects of subjectivity and objectivity. To achieve this,
the “voice” used in INTERIM is necessarily disjunctive and multiple, a densely
textured melange of different tones, different times, different positions. Structured
on Brechtian principles, INTERIM is full of visual and linguistic interruptions that
radically challenge the seamless nature and unitary terms of so much traditional
arrmaking. To structure a piece with the device of interruption is to produce a work
punctuated with frozen gestures; without narrative continuity, discrete moments
collide. As Walter Benjamin observed, an audience, deprived of traditional linear
narrative, experiences not the usual empathy-the cathartic emotional release that
results from an identification with the characters-but “[astonishment] at the
circumstances under which they function.” 1 To this end, Brecht’s epic theatre offers
“the representation of conditions rather than the development of actions.” 2
So does Kelly’s INTERIM. As the work makes clear, it is the representation of
conditions that defines women’s subjectivity. For three years before she began to
give form to the project, Kelly kept a notebook-an archive, as she calls it-in
which she recorded conversations she had overheard or engaged in with women who
were responsible for launching, or had been affected by, the second wave of
feminism-the women, in other words, of 1968. Arranging her notes in various
forms, she offers us the opportunity to hear these women as they explore their
experiences as wives, mothers, sisters, and daughters, most of them from the
vantage of middle age. In the process, we discover that we too are being encouraged
to search and research our own histories and responses, an engagement which
creates both a new definition of authorial power and a sense of pleasure in the
interchange of subjectivities. As for Kelly’s own subjectivity, the issues investigated
in the work are clearly indicative of her own interests and experience, though
INTERIM is not specifically autobiographical. 

Mary Kelly began the work in 1983 while she was living in London. She isolated
the themes which figured dominantly in the collected conversations and used them
to organize the project into four sections:
Parr I, Corpus [the body], pairs images and narrative panels on reflective
plexiglass (white on black, with phrases and parts of the images picked out in red),
in an arrangement of five groups, three pairs to a group. Each takes its title-
“Menace,” “Appel,” “Supplication,” “Erotisme,” and “Extase” -from the nineteenth-century
French neuropathologist J.M. Charcot’s attitudes passionelles, his
classification of the hallucinatory phase of hysteria. The texts are hand-written,
first-person accounts which explore how older women experience the body shaped
socially and psychically by the discourses of popular medicine, fashion, and romantic fiction”

–New Museum 

Photograph of a male hysteric in the arc-de-cercle pose from the Bibliothèque Charcot, Paris, illustrated in Christopher G. Goetz, Michel Bonduelle and Toby Gelfand, Charcot: Constructing Neurology , Oxford, 1996, 204, figure 6-6b. 

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Auguste Rodin, Kneeling Man (Hommeà genoux). Glass plate,dimensions unknown. Paris:Musée Rodin 

Tracey Emin, Leave Her Mind Alone,  2010 

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Louise Bourgeois, The Reticent Child, 2003 Element of the installation that presents six different stages of the life of the artist’s son Alain. The work was created for an exhibition at the Sigmund Freud Museum in Vienna.

Tracey Emin, The Perfect Place to Grow, 2001

“This work pays homage to the artist’s Turkish Cypriot father who, she says, is a fantastic gardener but a terrible carpenter. It consists of a wooden birdhouse-like structure on wooden stilts. The little wooden chamber has a sloping corrugated iron roof and an old wooden stepladder attached to the side which the viewer is invited to ascend in order to look through a small peephole. Inside the birdhouse a short video loop plays (originally shot on super-8 but transferred to DVD). It features Emin’s father walking back and forth through vegetation in a bright, hot sun. Wearing a pair of blue bathing trunks and a cloth sun-hat, he pushes through the fronds of tall, swaying, reed-like plants. He approaches the camera carrying a pink dahlia in one hand, which he extends towards the viewer. After smiling and blowing a kiss, he turns and walks away, his brown back disappearing into the foliage. The same footage repeats with a red flower held in the other hand. The sound of cicadas chirruping loudly in the heat accompanies the visual drama. On the floor beside the hut on stilts is a single wooden trestle, constructed by Emin’s father, surrounded by flowering plants in pots such as geraniums, clematis and lilies and a green plastic watering can. The artist has stipulated that this should be full of water because she likes the idea that she could come into the gallery and water the plants herself.

Much of Emin’s work features members of her family as well as death and depression. The words ‘the perfect place to grow’ originally appeared on Emin’s first quilt, Hotel International1993 (private collection), appliquéd below the name of the Margate hotel once owned by Emin’s father, Hotel International. In her text work, Exploration of the Soul 1994 (Tate T11887), Emin describes the idyllic early years she and her twin brother Paul spent at ‘the giant hotel’ before bankruptcy forced her father to sell it and return to Cyprus. The separation of her parents was the impetus for a series of disappointments followed by intense disillusionment with life as a result of being raped at the age of thirteen. The Perfect Place to Grow may therefore be read as harking back to a kind of ideal beginning before the shattering exodus from childhood paradise and the severance of paternal relations. An earlier work, Emin & Emin. Cyprus 1996 1996 (the artist and Jay Jopling/White Cube, London), is a video featuring the artist and her father emerging from the sea on the Turkish Cypriot coast, providing a romantic testimony to reconnection between the artist and her father. The Perfect Place to Grow reaffirms this connection with greater power. Envar Emin not only participates as an actor; he has constructed part of the installation. His presentation of flowers represents a type of old fashioned chivalry and perhaps, in Freudian terms, a daughter’s fantasy for her father as her knight. Like Emin & Emin. Cyprus 1996, the work alludes nostalgically to the Cypriot Mediterranean climate as well as an idealisation of the father-daughter relationship.

Structurally, The Perfect Place to Grow recalls a work by French artist Marcel Duchamp (1887-1968) comprising a wooden door set in an arch of brick. Two small holes at eye level in the wooden door invite the viewer to look onto a landscape in which a female figure lies prone, legs spread and head hidden behind the wall of brick. Duchamp’s work, Etant Donnés: 1º la chute d’eau / 2º le gaz d’éclairage (1944-66, Philadelphia Museum of Art), is sinister and deathly. By contrast, Emin’s installation is life-affirming and positive. Although he is enclosed in the bird house, her father is a source of loving and giving, healing the artist’s wound of childhood separation and inverting traditionally gendered roles of spectator and object of desire.”

—Tate