Tracey Emin interview:
Art, artist and media coverage (2002)
A Q&A with the "bad girl" of British art.
ADP magazine 3(1): Somewhere between “Fook off” and “KunstLeaks”
Reposted 03 April 2011
This interview was first published in Sculpture, 21(9), November 2002, pp. 38-43, with the title "Exposed: A conversation with Tracey Emin". In 2009, the interview was listed in the selected bibliography of Tate Modern’s influential Pop Life: Art in a material world exhibition.
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Tracey Emin. Self-portrait, (2001). Reclaimed timber and sparrow, 144 x 140 in. diameter.
Propelled by explicitly autobiographical works such as Everyone I ever slept with (1995) and My bed (1998), Brit-celebrity “bad girl” Tracey Emin has crossed the boundary from artist to a pop-culture phenomenon. In addition to making and exhibiting art, Emin appears on TV talk shows, celebrity game shows, and fashion shows, does gin advertisements, writes hotel reviews for GQ, and on and on. Further fueled by her Turner Prize nomination (1999) and the multiplying media controversy over Bed, everyone in Britain knows “that artist,” and she’s been featured and mentioned in London newspapers and tabloids to such a degree that nobody can accurately keep count.
Over the years, Tracey Emin’s work— including art subjects/revelations such as her abortions, being raped at 13, subsequent sexual consumption, and suicide attempts— has come under ever more scrutiny, with the artist accused by some as blatantly “marketing victimology.” In one way, her work pits the relatively “unknown” artist pursuing personal concerns that Emin once was against what she has become— a high-profile artist facing art-societal pressures with the added responsibilities of public representation. Her 2001 London solo show “You Forgot to Kiss My Soul,” however, was characterized by a more upbeat mood.
Tracey Emin’s current and upcoming solo exhibitions include shows at Lehmann-Maupin in New York, Amsterdam’s Stedelijk Museum, the Museum of Modern Art, Oxford (UK), and the Art Gallery of New South Wales in Sydney, Australia. On the book front, Emin has not one, but two monographs, slated to appear this year: one published by Thames and Hudson, and a second by Booth-Clibborn.
R.J. Preece: How would you describe the new emphasis in your work in the White Cube solo show?
Tracey Emin: I thought well, f*** it. They’re gonna slag me off anyway. It doesn’t matter what I make, it doesn’t matter what I do. Basically it’s up to me exactly what I do. I thought, this time I’m just gonna make some things that I like. Instead of having the conviction and the moral ideas behind it, maybe I’ll just let go and make some things— and that’s what the difference was.
So it was far more about making— and it was more formal. Self-Portrait (2001) was a formal idea, a simple metaphor. I had to divide the space up, and “the wall” became a spiral. It was also about where I grew up, because helter-skelters were there. I really like Louise Bourgeois’s towers at the Tate, but I prefer my helter-skelter to look at. Mine’s more like [Tatlin’s] Constructivist tower.
R.J. Preece: What materials do you particularly like to work with?
Tracey Emin: I like poor materials. I couldn’t see myself making a bronze sculpture—it’s not me. I like neon, because it’s moving constantly and like drawing. The chemicals going through the neon turns me on really—it’s sexy.
I like fabrics, but one of the main things with objects is that I really have to love them before I can use them. I have to have the object around me a long time. The little chairs I used in my last White Cube show are ones that my dad bought for me. A sort of a psychometry with objects and things. It’s like the pieces I’ve made are my things. All the materials I use are recycled, they all come from my studio. Downstairs, there were offices made out of really cheap wood. The wood for the helter-skelter came from there.
R.J. Preece: Some recent articles quote you as saying that you don’t necessarily see your work as completely autobiographical, that it’s edited, framed.
Tracey Emin: We all know that truth is different for everyone, depending on their perspective. It’s how I see it. For example, my film Why I Never Became a Dancer, is factual, made into the story to get a narrative, but the reality of it was worse—I was being called a slag on the street. Not just in the dance hall.
R.J. Preece: You are in a unique, high-profile, art-and-media career position. In many ways, you are overly examined and questioned.
Tracey Emin: It’s called “everyone waiting to stick the knife in,” waiting for you to fall.
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Tracey Emin. You forgot to kiss my soul, (2001). Neon, 45 1/2 x 55 5/16".
R.J. Preece: I was speaking to a colleague who thought that you were “re-branding” your work with “You Forgot to Kiss My Soul.” Is it that calculated?
Tracey Emin: Someone else who liked what I did might turn around and say, “She’s reworking and rethinking everything. She could just be making blankets now, and be a lot wealthier.” I’m actually making it difficult for myself.
I wouldn’t call it re-branding. If I get bored with my work, then other people will—it’s that simple. And I’m not gonna get bored with what I’m doing. I’ll struggle and fight and do new things to excite myself—and do it in my own sweet way.
R.J. Preece: What do you think about the writings on your work?
Tracey Emin: I think it’s people paying for their mortgages and paying for their mistresses by writing any old crap about me.
R.J. Preece: Do you read things that are completely factually off?
Tracey Emin interview : Art , artist and media coverage - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 - the unmade bed | 5 | 6 - the tent
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