Jocelyn McGregor
Ahead of our inaugural exhibition, She Performs (London Gallery West, June 2018), we invited four of the participating artists - Pauline Batista, Yvonne Feng, Susanne Roewer and Jocelyn McGregor - to speak to our curators about their practice, and how gender, performance, and the body inform their work...
Artist Jocelyn McGregor spoke to Curator of Interpretation, Nicola Waterman via email.
NW: The curatorial questions asked by ‘She Performs’ explore the concept of ‘her body’. What is it? Who owns it? Who performs it, and how? As a participating artist, what does ‘She Performs’ mean to you, Jocelyn McGregor, artist?
JM: Hmm. It's funny because I'm the least performative person I think anyone could ever meet; I hate being centre of attention, I get stage fright, I don't even like celebrating my birthday – ha, ha – so having my work linked to performance, albeit just through the exhibition title, is so obviously completely new to me but makes a lot of sense too... because the more personal, intimate reason behind making 'Jennifer' (the sculpture in the show) is that fear or critique of being put on display, meanwhile I've quite literally done it to myself – as in I've cast my body, my knees – they even look like they're doing some sort of morbid can-can – I’ve used pigment from the area I come from imbuing it with a personal narrative, and I've laid them all out on the rack as it were – the wooden plinth – for everyone to look at.
Sometimes I feel like being a woman does that kind of thing to you too, as in I think most women and non-binary people will be familiar with the situation where you're just doing something mundane, just trying to get by, get your shopping in, walk down the street, have a drink – and yet you feel like you're on display, your body, your outfit, your age, whatever is being scrutinised. And you end up feeling more embarrassed than the people gawping at you!
That’s a long answer… sorry. Perhaps in short I mean [that] I, like a lot of people – like a lot of women – am or started out as a reluctant performer, and perhaps moulding my own body like I do is a way of taking back ownership of my parts, taking back control.
NW: Thinking about other artists in the show, that theme of taking back ownership of yourself is really coming through strongly. My next question is: as an artist, as a woman, how do you perform ‘yourself’? You’ve already touched on that in your first answer – and I think you’re right, I know that sometimes that sense of being scrutinised is so strong that I have a physical response (tense, sweaty) – but can you tell me more about the things you do that you’re conscious are performative, whether as an artist or a woman (the things you wouldn’t do if you were alone, for example)?
JM: I think I tend to bring humour in, whether that is when I 'perform' in person - e.g. giving an artist talk, speaking in a crit, teaching – or in the art work itself. Quite a few of the artists I feel a particular affinity with do that too I think in one way or another, like Robert Gober or Alina Szapocnikow; and I'm a big horror movie fan, where humour often plays a large part – Hammer being a prime example. I get more expressive too, again both in person and in my work. Bizarrely, together those reactions can sometimes make it worse, because when you suddenly shift the tone to serious or personal I think it probably makes people feel uneasy, and [makes] me come across as a bit of wild card... the scary thing is I'm not sure if I wouldn't act like that alone ha, ha.
NW: Ah, humour – yes, I can definitely relate to that! I know so many women who defend themselves with a shield of humour! It’s interesting that you’re a horror movie fan - I’m a bit of a scared-y cat and don’t often watch them, but when I have, I’ve noticed that the director often ‘fragments’ the body (sometimes literally, when dismembering’s involved, but also metaphorically) and I wonder if that’s a way of creating enough distance for us to feel safe - in the same way that we ‘fragment’ our body by covering it with clothes so that not all of it is exposed at the same time.
JM: Yes, that's really interesting! Yes, that fragmenting of the body makes it less human, it resembles the 'consumer'/audience less, and gives a scary insight in to the fragmentation of the female body in terms of the male gaze - "are you a leg or a breast man" - it becomes meat. And in surrealism too, that fragmenting of the female form as seen in Hans Bellmer's dolls. But I think what really interests is when women do it to themselves - in terms of horror movies there is a particularly good example in 'In My Skin' (or 'Dans Ma Peau') directed by and starring Marina de Van, in short she starts to self-cannibalise, but in the run up there's a wonderful sequence in Chinese restaurant! Gotta watch it. In terms of dream theory, losing one's limbs is usually symbolic of undergoing some sort of change, like shedding a skin; and legs symbolise something holding you back.
NW: OK, I’ll be brave and watch ‘Dans Ma Peau’! Funnily enough your description of the film reminds me of Margaret Atwood’s novel, ‘The Edible Woman’ - have you read it? I think I was about 17 when I first read it and it’s one of those novels that stays with you (I’m 43 now!)
JM: Ahh no I haven't, I'll have to get myself a copy of that one!
NW: Do! It’s set in the 60s and it’s sobering to think that we’re still tackling much of the same stuff now, over 50 years later!
JM: Be warned 'Dans Ma Peau' is only for the strong stomached - it's not a jumpy horror at all, just stylishly horrifying. I actually had to look away for some of it because - believe it or not - I'm a horror movie fan who faints at the sight of blood!
NW: OK, so here’s my last question. Your work is strongly informed by ‘the body’ and, specifically, your body. You’ve said that one of the reasons behind making ‘Jennifer’ was a fear of performing and criticism, but when you cast yourself, does it come from a place of love (for your body)?
JM: Oh, I'm not sure. Yes, maybe there's a bit of my body is a temple going on... I certainly don't hate it. I think rather than love it's more familiarity, and comfort. The fact that it's constantly changing and growing, and stuff has happened to it but it hasn't failed me. It's my vessel, and a strong one.
NW: That’s a really empowering note to end on! I love the way you describe your body: it’s my vessel, and a strong one. Thank you so much, Jocelyn – is there anything else you’d like to add before we say goodnight?
JM: Thank you so much! This was fun : ) No, I don't think I've got anything to add... other than I'm looking forward to meeting you at 'She Performs'!! : )
Jennifer (2016-17)
“It’s my vessel, and a strong one.”
