Knowing
My Enemy took centre stage in room one of
Emin’s solo exhibition at London's Hayward Gallery, a partially collapsed pier
made of recycled wood that still held the smell of its life before art.
Accompanying this work in room one were the blankets that are only too
recognisable as Emin’s creations. Hung one above the other on the wall I found
myself negotiating my way under the rickety pier to read the highest placed
works which added to the impact of them, as they, like the issues they
addressed, seemed so much bigger than myself. Visible individual stitches and
floral fabrics combined with the hand written patches make the juxtaposition of
the construction and the message so significantly more prominent than I have
ever felt it to be from viewing the work photographed.
The
feeling of being overwhelmed by Emin’s work continued as I viewed her neon
creations; displayed in a darkened corridor they initially create the feeling
of a seedy alley in Soho. If you’ve never experienced Emin’s work before the
self-centeredness of it will have become obvious by this point, further
reinforced by the films in the rooms that followed.
People
stood uncomfortably in the darkened room watching one of Emin’s earliest films,
Why I Never Became a Dancer. Her voiceover was frank, with a bitter tone
which contrasted with the glitzy clips of Margate seafront and a glittering
ocean. ‘Shane, Eddie, Tony, Doug, Richard… this one's for you’ Emin says as a
clip of her dancing, spinning and shimmying to You Make Me Feel by
Sylvester begins to roll, sticking a metaphorical middle finger up at the
boys who had jeered and shouted ‘SLAG!’ at her in the British Disco Dance
Championship in 1978. It was after this film that the sense of how brave Emin
is as an individual echoed through me.
Emotional
suicide; the reason for the charred texts and paintings in glass cabinets, and
with it the first reference to the alliance with Sarah Lucas. The melodrama of
this exhibition seemed to flat line but it was not detrimental; the ‘fun’
artwork had been seen and now tiny self portraits of her in the most stricken
times in her life evoke compassion. Stale tampons may push people to question
her artistic merit but this retrospective shows Emin to be notably un-phased by
these views including works such as I've
Got It All; a photograph depicting her pulling money to her crotch, a
blatant and shameless statement to all critics.
She is
quite right to celebrate; Emin is one of, if not the most successful British
female artist ever and so if you can forgive the narcissism Love is What You Want is a brilliant chance
to view some of Emin’s greatest works.
