Artists Statement April 2010
My fascination with taxidermy began some years ago, and initially grew from an interest in the similarities between this preservatory medium and the discipline of photography. My preliminary investigation of the taxidermy animal focused firstly on its physical, highly tactile properties, particularly the visible signs of human construction- a "man-made animal". This expanded to an examination of the surrounding literal and institutional frames: the habitat diorama and the museum. Striving for realism, the diorama extols the simultaneous alienation and idolisation of Western culture from nature and "wilderness".
I am particularly concerned with the evolution of the culture of collection and display of animals, progressing from the early curio crammed "wunderkammer" to the meticulously categorised and presented natural history museum. To me, it seems that mankind has perpetually strived to capture the essence of the animal through various methods of preservation, but such attempts are ultimately futile, as it cannot be contained in a jar, or a vitrine, nor interpreted and controlled by taxonomic order.
The contemporary decline of cased specimens in favour of interactive "edutainment" exhibits typifies the extent to which our interactions with nature and non-human animals have become "heavily mediated by technology"1. Encounters with living wild animals are extremely rare for the average urban dweller, restricted to vilified species such as rats, pigeons and insects- creatures we commonly term as pests or vermin. How is it that we determine the cultural status of particular species of animal; why do we share our homes with some and seek to eradicate others? Such established cultural attitudes towards non human animals could essentially be classified as speciesist, grounded in anthropocentric heirarchies of domination, and anthropomorphic concepts of the internal life of the animal.
Today, the typical civilian is more likely to encounter dead animals than live, either by the roadside, or on the supermarket shelf. I am extremely curious as to the point at which an animal becomes an object, a good example of this is the meat industry where animals are commidified to the extent of being seen merely as products rather than individual living creatures. The mechanisation of farming and the steady "layering of animals with industry"2 solidifies the extent to which the animal is hidden, its life subject to the same processes of manufacture as any mass produced item.
Taxidermy is a curious cultural practice, steadily regaining popularity, notably during the last few decades within contemporary art. This, similar to meat production, provokes me to wonder, at what point does it become acceptable for an artist to utilise the body of animal within an artwork, and can such a piece realistically, and ethically, list taxidermy as a material next to clay, or paint? Is an animal body really suitable for display within an art gallery? Are such works merely a sensationalist baiting of public sensibility? Or do they draw attention to largely ignored issues and attitudes towards our non-human counterparts? It has always been pertinent to me to endeavour to identify suitable ways to draw attention to the human use of animals, but I am persistently reminded that taxidermy has the potential to do a number of things- recontextualisation within the gallery space allows for contemplation and at times, confrontation, of difficult issues within our society, but the message and meaning must not be overridden by gratuitous shock-seeking. Too often I am left dejected and dismayed at the use of animal bodies within artworks, most frequently when the animal is treated as a material like any other, or as a cheap metaphorical device. Taxidermy typifies our relationship with Nature, and if art is said to be a kind of barometer of society, the integration of taxidermy into artistic practice could be seen both positively and negatively. Do we really need another arena in which animals can be consumed? Exhibited and displayed, purchased and collected? Or does it have the potential to instigate change? Naturally, such complexities unavoidably bleed into my practice. I do not wish to omit or ignore the moral and ethical implications of working with such contentious subject matter, and as a keen supporter of animal rights, I have consistently worked to confront, challenge and emphasise the ethics of the display of animal bodies within the gallery space. The ethics and morality of working with animals fuels rather than hinders my practice and instances where animals, or animal by products appear within my work I have taken the utmost care to use second hand, considerably old specimens or garments.
The incongruity of an animal cadaver in an artistic context still holds significant impact, but I feel that this must be seized on before it becomes naturalised- if visual culture becomes saturated with taxidermy (if it hasn't already) its potential to provoke genuine debate will be diminished. Reanimation of the dead, and those who enable it, still have the power to disturb, shock and unnerve. Taxidermy is still seen as an odd pursuit, and those who practice it have the ability to create an atmosphere of unease, but I feel their directive is not dissimilar to that of the photographer- both desire to capture a moment in time, or a vital essence; the distillation of life is their dual desire. Together, taxidermy and photography have the potential to create a kind of "double mimesis"3, a replica of a replica. The photographic image also provides taxidermy with the unique opportunity to appear its most lifelike, concealing the inherent flaws of a man-made animal. Contrary to this, my own photographic explorations of taxidermy have sought to avoid this illusionary convention, and I have found that presenting taxidermy in a 2D format is far less confrontational that its physical presence, but it communicates just as effectively. I found myself to be more ethically comfortable working with taxidermy photographically, which was intriguing in itself- why was I more secure mediating an encounter with taxidermy with technology?
Our alienation from the rest of the animal kingdom has allowed us to become familiar with new types of animal - the visual, and the man-made animal. Advancement in Animatronics (animal-electronics) and the prevalence of CGI in cinema has established a new standard of man-made animal. The use of taxidermy in animation, the rearticulation of animal cadavers in narrative and experimental film, is an unusual and provocative device which I have explored in my own animated works. I am particularly concerned with the ethical implications of the presence of animal bodies within film, and the resulting cultural ramifications.
It is often said that a lot can be discerned about a society by the way it treats its dead, therefore what can be determined about western culture by our treatment of dead animals? Everyday we literally consume great volumes of animals and their by-products, but what of a more covert intellectual and visual consumption? The presentation and display of animal bodies is commonplace, and like meat-eating, it marks a significant division between human and non-human animals. The suitability and acceptability of presenting human bodies for public display is rarely considered appropriate, requiring the mitigating circumstances of anonymity (for example the donated corpses of Gunther Von Hagen's "Body Worlds" exhibitions) or for academic or educational purposes only.
It is these cultural contradictions that provoked me to focus my practice on the human use of animals both living and deceased, in any and every form possible: as sustenance or sartorial statement, for companionship or education, subject of allegory, fable, myth and legend, as an artistic "material" or livelihood, for medical or economic development, in intellectual or philosophical discourse, held as objects, as totems, as deities, or in their collection as specimens, trophies, or past-time.
This naturally led to my attempts to identify the main distinctions between humans and animals and trying to determine where these dividing lines lie, where they cross and where they blur. The philosophical notion of "becoming animal", as explored by Deleuze and Guattari, is a key influence in my practice, particularly the notion of "contagion" and "molecular transference"4. I am fascinated by the idea of a bestial transformation occurring as a result of exposure to infection or contamination, akin to the famous mythology of werewolves and vampires. Literal becomings-animal have been a staple part of folklore around the world for thousands of years and their symbolic clout continues to infuse contemporary visual culture.
Hybridity and therianthropy (the transformation of human into animal) allude to a fantastic universe of liminal beings, caught between two states of existence, grown from imagination and superstition, evolving throughout centuries as fluid and chaotic as a verse of Ovid's epic "Metamorphosis". Human-animal transmogrification evokes a primordial and intoxicating depth, which runs deep within my research. Archaic symbols aside, contemporary hybridity has taken on new complexities. The futuristic loom of the cyborg, against advancements such as animal-human organ transplants, presents the dual potential of a future of mechanised, or organic hybridisation. In a sense, this is already happening, as Donna Haraway enthused 'we are all hybrids'5.
Personally, I feel there is no more pertinent an area to focus my practice on than animal studies. Exploring the cultural representation of animals, past, present and future in all varieties of cultural practices, traditions and artforms provides me with a diverse and seemingly unfathomable array of extremely pressing questions, that through my work, I try to interpret, comprehend and hopefully, by creating my own representations, foster debate.
References: 1. Heise U. From Extinction to
Electronics: Dead Frogs, Live Dinosaurs, and Electric Sheep. In: Wolfe
C, editor. Zoontologies: The Question of the Animal. University of
Minnesota Press, 2003
2. Burt J. Conflicts around Slaughter in Modernity. In: Rothfels N, editor.
Representing Animals. Indiana University Press, 2002 3. Hauser K. Coming Apart at
the Seams: Taxidermy and Contemporary
Photography. Make, the magazine of women's art. 1998-99; 82: 8-11
4. Deleuze G, Guattari F. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism &
Schizophrenia. Continuum, 2004.