Q. As suggested by the title of this retrospective survey of your work (The
Body Remembers), the many threads in your work intersect in the body so
I will start with the body. It is the site of memory, of her/history, of investigation,
and it is the site of your expression. When and why did you start working with
the body? Was it your background as an artist emerging in the 70s? Is it connected
with feminist discourse and the notion of re-possessing the body? Or is it simply
a subjective gesture?
A. At different times in my [artistic] evolution, the reasons why I work with
the body have been related to both my own background in the 70s and with the notion
of re-possessing the body. I worked with the body from the beginning of my art-making.
I can trace my interest and memory back to figurative painting and film in art
school: I was interested in freezing and appropriating romantic clashes from Hollywood
film history. After 1975, with the challenge of feminist-Marxist discourse, this
interest shifted and I made a series of performance works which were not only
a break from the two-dimensional image on a wall, but were also comments on the
body as a commodity and as an object. At this time I was living in San Francisco
and the elements of time, media, surveillance, representation and the connotations
of the body as sculptural material in architectural space were often discussed
in our lively small multicultural neighbourhood. This neighbourhood at that time
consisted of many soul-searching conceptual artists. (See my works Taped,
Strung, Hung, etc. 1975-78 and my works about body surveillance,
Inside Out, Extremities, 1978-82.)
Q. If we agree that your medium of expression is the body, has the body been
subsumed by technology since you have been working with media technologies?
Have you lost your body in the process?
A. Via the discourse of representation and feminism, I attempted to use video
technologies as a way to comment on the distancing and codification of the body.
So, yes, I would agree that increasingly, through computer technology and science,
flesh is becoming data. From 1982-88, many aspects of my work addressed these
issues and I tried to rewrite mythologies about the female body. (See the Orwellian
comments in my work called The Double Series). However, as I experienced
some of my own organic data changing for the worse in 1988, I have been fighting
to retain and comment on the organic body.
Q. Can you elaborate on your own experience of 'losing your body' and how this
is expressed in your work. Did this experience change your attitude to the body
and the way the body is represented? Does it coincide with a particular transition
in your work?
A. In 1988 I was diagnosed as having breast cancer and I felt I had to fight not
to become a statistic. Returning to an earlier interest in Eastern philosophy
certainly helped to retain an organic and an optimistic base. For this reason,
it was very interesting to make works about 'Her-stories' of idealism which would
be accessible through very 'human' interfaces. (See Machine Dreams, Paradise
Tossed and Frontiers of Utopia 1990-95.) The experience has also made
me re-examine the aims of molecular biology, metaphors about the immune system
and the ethics of genetic manipulation, especially since the advent of the Human
Genome Project.
Q. In your artist's statement you ask: 'Is the maze of the mind complicated
by the memories of the Body?' In turn, I ask you: how do you conceive the separation
of mind and body in your work? Is memory not of the mind? I often think of memory
as being recorded in my body † in the bones, in the muscles, the flesh, the
scars and traces † although I know that this is not exactly 'scientific.' Is
this what you mean by The Body Remembers? The body as a multi-form receptacle
for memory is quite an old idea which has been kept more or less quiet in murky
mystical zones like alchemy in Western experience. Instead, the 'enlightened'
or Cartesian notion of the dualistic separation of mind and body still seems
to be widely accepted despite access to other ways † Buddhism or Chinese medicine
for example † of understanding the relationship between mind, memory and body.
By incorporating memory in the body are you expressly subverting the traditional
dualistic split between mind and body?
A. In fact, there are a number of references that you are picking up in the title
The Body Remembers which certainly have direct connection to the meaning
of all of my work. Yes, I am intentionally subverting this traditional dualistic
split between the mind and body. I actually do believe that the body remembers.
In many of my interactive works, I have asked the viewer to be the performer in
the space, travelling physically through histories or herstories which relate
to, or question, their own 'body-memories' of past sensations, desires, metaphors
and ideals. One of my works which specifically relates to this idea is Continental
Drift (1989). In it, I allude to the possibility that the cells of the body
can store the memory of youth, which is a nonsensical idea for most Western doctors.
I allude to the fact that these attitudes are gradually changing through developments
in the field of genetic coding and discoveries in cognitive science. But I believe
that it is mostly through the processes of 'proprioception' that the body can
register a memory of its sense of place and therefore identification in any given
environment. In this work, I also counterpoint the attitudes of Eastern medicine
where the whole body is treated for disease and chi or energy flow is an almost
untraceable element. The Chinese acupuncturist believes that old bad habits of
the mind can become stored in parts of the body and block energy flow. Healing
and idealism are very related elements for me.
Q. In Paradise Tossed, you investigate the relationship of 'design' to
the experience of women in four different generations from 1900 to the 1990s.
I know that you did significant research into domestic, fashion, and media design
for women in each period. What did that investigation reveal to you about the
way design shaped the experience of women generally in these periods? If I was
one of your characters from the 1960s in Frontiers of Utopia, I would
ask: was design liberating for its users or enslaving? Does your work address
design of computer hardware and software specifically?
A. Firstly, I think it is important to remember that Paradise Tossed is
a play on Milton's famous Paradise Lost. In this piece, I am searching
for a non-linear relationship between design and desire, with a sarcastic twist.
Does design lead to desire or vice versa? Or are they inseparable? This work demonstrates
the ways by which women have been manipulated to desire certain appliances, fashions
and environments and to stay inside their domestic environments and inside their
bodies. My research gave me an insight into how media and the art of selling design
has greatly affected women's roles, as well as determined their levels of nostalgia
about workload and domestic appliances. In the work, these issues of manipulation
are emphasised by the seduction of fly-through 'Cartesian' dream-homes and luxurious
presentations of catalogue products. During the process of making the work, I
kept thinking about the dismayed conclusions that future generations would make
about the lives of women this century if they were to dig up the remains of this
century's rubbish in 6000 years.
My questions now will focus on Frontiers of Utopia, which I recently
'experienced' for the second time at DEAF (Dutch Electronic Arts Festival, V2
Organisation) in Rotterdam. It was the full installation version in five parts:
four separate time zone installations situated around one trans-time dinner
party in the centre. In each time zone, the participant can interact with film,
sound, objects, and documentary fragments of two different women by using a
touchscreen or by selecting (physical) objects in an open suitcase with a metal
key.
Q. Tell me about your utopian yearnings...
A. There is no doubt that I have utopian yearnings but I become more sceptical
the older I get. In fact, the title 'Frontiers of Utopia' was chosen because frontiers
are not only mobile idealistic borders of change but are often seen in retrospect
as eras of a new kind of terror. Frontiers of Utopia presents the viewer
with the politics of the ideal society from the points of view of eight different
female characters. Using the same eras as Machine Dreams and Paradise
Tossed † 1900, 1930, 1960 and 1990 † it creates and illustrates the various
moods, criticisms and attitudes toward utopia along with the articulation of these
eight characters and their views about society. In doing so, it presents a rich
tapestry of ideas, attitudes, locations and historical perspectives. Every idealistic
scenario that I have chosen to represent in the work was radical for its time
and utopian in flavour, but utopia (meaning 'no-place') can be both a longed-for
ideal and a crackpot scheme. For example, one of the characters, Gillian, is based
on my own radical Marxist student days in Melbourne in 1968. When people meet
this character they are able to remember their own idealism but they say that
while they still believe in basic levels of class equality and education, they
can now, upon reflection, identify that there were certain levels of propaganda
and manipulated conformity affecting their experience. Frontiers is so
popular in Europe because the eight different levels of idealism represented in
the work are still in discussion.
Q. This is an 'immersive' environment which allows freedom of movement and avoids
the tyranny of many 'interactive installations' which restrict the number of
participants to one or two and consequently result in long queues or booking
schedules. Do you see this possibility for multiple-users as an essential criteria
for interactive art?
A. Yes. The installation was originally designed to be a multiple-user environment
mainly because it offers different levels of her-storical data and reflection.
It is related to the concept of an archive†an archive where the viewer-participant
would become an editor of related information based entirely on their individual
level of curiosity. Only then did I feel they would be able to match their own
memories with the idealism and nostalgia of the virtual characters. For years,
I have wanted to explore this concept of an interactive cinema archive. ZKM here
in Germany and the Australian Film Commission gave me such an opportunity.
Q. The objects in the suitcases are literally 'keys' to memories. I find this
interesting in relation to the traditional 'art of memory' (the subject of my
current research). In the art of memory, objects and images store memories that
are encoded by the user and can be recalled at will. How do you conceive the
relationship of object to memory?
A. For me there is a complete connection between object and memory † and not only
through the most obvious forms of emotional associations, for example, nostalgia
and love. After working as a performance artist for a number of years, I felt
as though the objects which had accompanied me throughout the 'rituals' were,
in fact, atomically charged or shifted. Notions like this have been substantiated
by quantum physics. In The Body Remembers, I display relics from performances
which still hold the memories of the action and, by association with the documentation
of the action, may enforce that same action.
Q. The concept of a dinner party across time is an effective way to juxtapose
the experience of different generations. And it is a particularly powerful way
to reveal the personality of your characters. Was your intention to deconstruct
history and perhaps arrive at a refreshing version of her-story?
A. The concept of a dinner party with characters from different time zones was
in fact borrowed from theatre (Brecht), but by juxtaposing these particular eight
female characters and their idealism over time, the viewer discovers generation
gaps and an extremely humorous version of herstories.
Q. At ZKM you are integrating your art practice with a new institution. How
is this affecting your work? Does it mean that you work on a larger scale? I
am particularly interested in The Digital Body and how it reflects the
metamorphosis of your work on the body.
A. My installation has always been on quite a large scale because it usually relates
to architectural space and has often been site-specific. For this reason, I tend
to make smaller versions to travel and also to include explanatory documentation.
One work may consist of a videotape, a related set of images, a performance and
a script. Each thematic investigation seems to take about five to six years, so
I regard my own her-story as a large-scale art practice. For the opening of the
ZKM Medienmuseum, I have been commissioned to make a work called The Digital
Body†Automata. Its concepts include an exploration of the transformation of
the body through technology. Structurally, it is an interactive work in three
parts with a CD-ROM for a sketchpad, and enough text for a Ph.D. The first part,
A Figurative History, stems from a collaboration with Paul Charlier about
the history of automata and is structured in a similar way to Frontiers of
Utopia. Another work which investigates the relationship between the virtual,
the data and the anatomical body is called Interskin. And the third part, Immortal
Duality, questions the potential and ethics of a post-human future.
Q. You are involved with the ZKM Medienmuseum's Internet project, 'The Salon
Digital'. Are you using the Internet for your own work? Is the Internet (or
will it be) a successful medium for art? What are its qualities and limitations?
A. For me, the Internet is not only a viable archive to search for the material
and books I need but also a viable means of artistic expression. I am interested
in the ramifications of the 'data body' on the Net. Whether the bandwidth can
support interactivity at the level that we want remains to be seen, but at some
point soon the technology from point to point will have to improve. At ZKM, I
am on a committee to construct a virtual museum that is aptly named The Salon
Digital and which makes reference to Gertrude Stein's salon in Paris in the
1920s.
© Josephine Grieve
MESH film/video/multimedia/art #10,MESH is the journal of Experimenta
Media Arts
