WHERE AM I HERE?
Rinat Schnadower remembers well Helmut Newton's series They're Coming (French Vogue, 1981). Newton's pair of works or, more accurately, what they represent, became a red rag for every woman with even the slightest feminist awareness. That's why she called the series she's presenting now, at her third solo exhibition: Nobody's Coming. For the truth is, releasing four stunning women (according to the norms magazines dictate and millions of drooling readers adopt) toward the camera, fully dressed first and then nude, always on high heels, is not such a big wisecrack. On the other hand, the title's double meaning ("coming" as reaching an orgasm) has stopped winking at us long ago, being it obvious that nobody is really coming.
The decision to take your own body and turn it into a field of events is much demanding and requires a different kind of effort. For the series Nobody's Coming, Schnadower photographed herself in a holiday apartment in San Diego, California, there lives her family. As in her previous series Angie (2012), Schnadower dressed up as a feminine figure seemingly taken out of a soap opera. Just this time, she also recreated every scene naked, thus exposing the impersonation. The third time, she photographed herself looking toward the void where the staged scene took place a moment before. "The character in the third scene of each trio", writes Schnadower, "is for me a woman-child who observes the woman disguised as a woman, both in fear and in search of some contact and recognition".
The artificial splendor and wardrobe are the arena where Schnadower looks for the authentic feminine self. Either disguised as a deeply depressed Barbie or in an attempt to expose herself in the most concrete sense, she seeks for an archetypical woman, a woman untouched by fantasies whom she possibly has never met.
But this is where the camera and the medium of photography come in, obliging her to take the stand of the director. From this position, she is bound to observe her own figure through the lense and stage herself over and over in the search of the "right" frame. What is the right frame, though? Inevitably, the photographer turns into some kind of Newton, adopting his judgmental, fantasizing, point view, without being able to extricate herself.
The masquerading act is not uncommon in contemporary photography, especially in America. In the context of this body of works, it is imperative to mention Cindy Sherman's early photographic work; Sherman first situated herself in cinematographic scenes, then gradually widened and deepened the circle of feminine imagery performed with her body. Only contrary to Sherman, who from the beginning of her career dedicated herself almost exclusively to create alienated scenes using her own body, which has always served her best being an accessible and comfortable tool (as she stated more than once), Schnadower's presence in her works is inherent and significant. er self-photographing, both dressed and nakes, surface the question if an intentional evasion of the Other's glance as well as the avoidance of becoming an object of observation and recognition are even possible.
In an ironic-heroic attempt to repair some fantastic and lost imperfection, and maybe due to the acceptance of the impossibility of finding an authentic self under the fragments of the fantasy, Schnadower welcomes the visitor of the exhibition with the series Jellyfish. In this series, three images of silicon breast implants are laid graciously on a velvet sofa in a kitschy atmosphere, itself considered as feminine. In the over-adorned ambience, the objects get a life of their own and are revealed in their original shape, only a moment before they fulfill their purpose as substitutes for the real thing.
In the video work Shapeless, again Schnadower wears the woman-child character. In a seducing red dress, she positions herself in front of the camera and drops a delicate porcelain piece from her hands. In hurtful clarity she steps towards a foretold failure, attempting to stitch the pieces together and give shape to something that is broken and lost. The work Shapeless completes that 'Nobody' from the main series in the exhibition.
In the past years, Schnadower has photographed herself again and again in meticulously staged series, where she examines herself in the light of the expectations of the culture she lives in. In every one of them, she peels another piece of herself and allows the girl unwilling to play by the rules to crack out and emerge.
Taly Cohen Garbuz,
July, 2014
Translation from Hebrew: Cecilia Rozen
Rinat Schnadower remembers well Helmut Newton's series They're Coming (French Vogue, 1981). Newton's pair of works or, more accurately, what they represent, became a red rag for every woman with even the slightest feminist awareness. That's why she called the series she's presenting now, at her third solo exhibition: Nobody's Coming. For the truth is, releasing four stunning women (according to the norms magazines dictate and millions of drooling readers adopt) toward the camera, fully dressed first and then nude, always on high heels, is not such a big wisecrack. On the other hand, the title's double meaning ("coming" as reaching an orgasm) has stopped winking at us long ago, being it obvious that nobody is really coming.
The decision to take your own body and turn it into a field of events is much demanding and requires a different kind of effort. For the series Nobody's Coming, Schnadower photographed herself in a holiday apartment in San Diego, California, there lives her family. As in her previous series Angie (2012), Schnadower dressed up as a feminine figure seemingly taken out of a soap opera. Just this time, she also recreated every scene naked, thus exposing the impersonation. The third time, she photographed herself looking toward the void where the staged scene took place a moment before. "The character in the third scene of each trio", writes Schnadower, "is for me a woman-child who observes the woman disguised as a woman, both in fear and in search of some contact and recognition".
The artificial splendor and wardrobe are the arena where Schnadower looks for the authentic feminine self. Either disguised as a deeply depressed Barbie or in an attempt to expose herself in the most concrete sense, she seeks for an archetypical woman, a woman untouched by fantasies whom she possibly has never met.
But this is where the camera and the medium of photography come in, obliging her to take the stand of the director. From this position, she is bound to observe her own figure through the lense and stage herself over and over in the search of the "right" frame. What is the right frame, though? Inevitably, the photographer turns into some kind of Newton, adopting his judgmental, fantasizing, point view, without being able to extricate herself.
The masquerading act is not uncommon in contemporary photography, especially in America. In the context of this body of works, it is imperative to mention Cindy Sherman's early photographic work; Sherman first situated herself in cinematographic scenes, then gradually widened and deepened the circle of feminine imagery performed with her body. Only contrary to Sherman, who from the beginning of her career dedicated herself almost exclusively to create alienated scenes using her own body, which has always served her best being an accessible and comfortable tool (as she stated more than once), Schnadower's presence in her works is inherent and significant. er self-photographing, both dressed and nakes, surface the question if an intentional evasion of the Other's glance as well as the avoidance of becoming an object of observation and recognition are even possible.
In an ironic-heroic attempt to repair some fantastic and lost imperfection, and maybe due to the acceptance of the impossibility of finding an authentic self under the fragments of the fantasy, Schnadower welcomes the visitor of the exhibition with the series Jellyfish. In this series, three images of silicon breast implants are laid graciously on a velvet sofa in a kitschy atmosphere, itself considered as feminine. In the over-adorned ambience, the objects get a life of their own and are revealed in their original shape, only a moment before they fulfill their purpose as substitutes for the real thing.
In the video work Shapeless, again Schnadower wears the woman-child character. In a seducing red dress, she positions herself in front of the camera and drops a delicate porcelain piece from her hands. In hurtful clarity she steps towards a foretold failure, attempting to stitch the pieces together and give shape to something that is broken and lost. The work Shapeless completes that 'Nobody' from the main series in the exhibition.
In the past years, Schnadower has photographed herself again and again in meticulously staged series, where she examines herself in the light of the expectations of the culture she lives in. In every one of them, she peels another piece of herself and allows the girl unwilling to play by the rules to crack out and emerge.
Taly Cohen Garbuz,
July, 2014
Translation from Hebrew: Cecilia Rozen