About
New York-based German artist Heide
Hatry is best known for her body-related performances and her work
employing animal flesh and organs. She is often described as a
neo-conceptualist and, to the extent that the "space" in which her work
operates transcends, transgresses, or transforms the normal relationship
of artist to both audience and work, this is accurate – her work does
not reside in the pictorial plane, the sculptural space, or filmic time.
Among her fundamental preoccupations are identity, gender roles (and
specifically what it means to be a woman), the nature of aesthetic
experience and the meaning of beauty, the effects of knowledge upon
perception, the human exploitation of the natural world, and the social
oblivion that permits atrocity to persist in our midst.
Spicula linguarum anitum, New York, NY 2011
Spisulae solidissimae sculptiles, pars conchae luteae, New York, NY 2011
pisulae solidissimae, cilia cervorum, oesophagus capreae, Cervi, Dallas, TX 2011
Linguae saeta cervorum, sanguis coagulatus, Dallas, TX 2011
Aures porcorum, Harlem, 2008
Becci anitum inferiores, Hong Kong, China 2011
Vagina vaccae, penis arietis , Dallas, TX 2011
The flowers depicted in Not a Rose
are photographic documentations of sculptures composed mainly out of
animal organs, posed in different natural environments. The photographs
make the flowers appear to be “real,” so real that it is quite
difficult to see that they are, in fact, constructions. They are
supposed to look like simple snapshots, or at most “art photographs” of
flowers. They appear convincing, in part, as a consequence of visual
habit and expectation.
Not a Rose began as an
innocent question: Why do flowers exert such a strong and immediate
emotional impact on me and, I assume, many, if not most, others? Why do
we find them so invigorating, so uplifting, calming, and consoling? In
my somewhat perverse way, I immediately imagined a scenario that would
undermine the normal relationship between human and flower, perceiver
and perceived, at first as something of a personal thought experiment,
but then as the basis for a more general exploration of aesthetic
reception, the sociology/anthropology of beauty, and, always lurking in
the background, the whole question of the human exploitation of the
natural world.
For some years I have been working
with biological materials – animal skin, flesh, and organs – to create
art that addresses issues of personal identity, gender roles, appearance
and reality, subject and object, the moral, ethical, and political
dimensions of meat production and consumption, and a wide range of other
topics. The idea of creating flowers out of animal offal was, thus, a
quite natural extension of my work in that eccentric medium and seemed
to me to be a great way both to cut through the accretion of social
determinants of aesthetic reception and to specifically thematize the
ways in which codified expectations play a defining role in what we
think of as beautiful, or, for that matter, as morally acceptable. I
rather think of the idea of beauty as having seemingly incompatible, but
quite real, dimensions, similar to the wave-particle duality in quantum
mechanics. On the one hand, beauty is certainly a universal, and
unitary, concept; on the other, it is a social construct, one that
changes over time and place. It is utterly useless, and yet it
everywhere seems to serve ulterior purposes. The doomed effort to
compel these aspects to coincide, or to make one somehow exhaust the
other, is at the basis of our distrust of the concept itself, though the
very tension is what I believe actually keeps it vital.
The flowers with which we normally
surround ourselves are dead detached sex organs from living things, bred
explicitly to serve our pleasure, not our sustenance. The animal
materials of which the sculptural flowers of the present collaboration
have been created undeniably derive from living creatures bred solely to
die for our sustenance, but I use only the “worthless” waste products
of that process, that is, they serve no, or only an incidental, role in
alimentation – lungs, hearts, stomachs, livers, tongues, bladders and,
yes, sex organs as well. Their presence excites abhorrence in us, while
that of the defiled plant confers joy.
The biological and social purpose of
even the demurest flower is seduction. My flowers are also intended to
seduce, but only to seduce the unthinking into thought and the thinking
into imagining. In creating images of beautiful flowers from animal
parts that most of us would find impossible to consume (even though we
eat the flesh of those very same animals, most of them victims of
mechanized mass slaughter) without a thought. I want subtly to remind my
viewer that his or her every act of mindless consumption is an
abdication of our moral and ethical substance, to arouse reflection
where there had been mere reflex. We want to be seduced by beauty, to
permit difficult questions to remain lingering unasked, hidden behind
its veil.
The titles of the artwork, the names
of the flowers, have been “scientized” – they are called by simple Latin
names reflecting the materials from which they have been formed, for
example, Aures Porcorum (pig ears) – so as to minimize even the
effects of linguistic association. Of course, the question of
historical, social, or gender-specific substrates remains largely
untouched by this method. The tension or aporia created by looking upon
something beautiful which is, in fact, for most viewers something
repulsive, is the locus for my collaborators’ thoughts and meditations
for the book:
I have invited 101 colleagues in the
fields of anthropology, philosophy, psychology, sociology, philology,
botany, neuroscience, art history, gender studies, physics, chemistry,
sensory studies, etc., as well as poets and writers to addressed my
questions from a plurality of scientific and humane perspectives, . Each
uses the experience and concept of the flower and my own “Flowers of
Evil” as a platform for their writing. The result is a diverse and
extensive, inherently rhizomatic network of image and thought, which
interrogates the very process of aesthetic perception and reception
itself.
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