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Tracey Emin

Emin Eats Edinburgh Out With 20 Year Retrospective

I've got it all, 2000

Tracy Emin. The name conjures a punch in the womb, an un-kempt bed, blood-stained tissues and a contentious confrontation of themes expressed through phallic dreams and a mixture of mediums including film, appliqué, neon, installation, mono print, sculpture and writing.

Of course there’s a preconception that Emin’s work centres purely around sex, an impression perpetuated by the media sensation that was 'My Bed', her Turner Prize nominated piece of 1998. But if you willingly submit yourself to that kind of media-mongering propaganda, you’ll probably miss the nuance of an artist’s progression from the expressionist paintings of Egon Schiele and Edvard Munch.

So, with a 20-year retrospective nestled like a blood-clot in the cosy heart of Edinburgh’s art-scene, the artist will either be confirmed as the greatest of our time or a self-absorbed sensationalist. Is there no grey chink in the chain? There should be…

My Bed, 1998

The Sexual Spectrum

Her work covers a spectrum of concerns central to a woman’s life: sex, family, abortion, motherhood, love, and undertones of gender politics and power.

Indeed, sex and abortion were at the core of her work in the 90s as the exhibition documents. But what makes this retrospective poignant is how it helps trace her gradual development from a predominantly visceral sexual quality to a more spiritual and universal plain of self-expression and trademark intimacy.

'My Abortion', 1990 is a raw memorabilia piece, comprising a phial of blood-soaked tissue, some pills and a hospital wristband. Combined with the simple, childlike watercolours and accompanying written article, the items tell a grim story allowing a full spectrum of understanding from the clinical (objects), to the emotional (paintings and words).

There's Alot of Money in Chairs, 1994

Ghosts of Dead Family Live Through Kitchen Chair (Voices heard)

The family was fundamental in her work of the 90s, as shown in her homage to dead 'Uncle Colin' and beloved grandmother May Dodge, 'There’s A Lot of Money In Chairs', 1994. The latter is a chair given to Tracey by her, totally embossed with appliqué vignettes of personal literature, such as birthdates and nicknames. The accompanying letter 'Exploration of the Soul' documented her close relationships with her family and experiences as a child in Margate.

Big Dick Small Girl

Reoccurring throughout the retrospective is geographical g-spot Margate. References are clear, particularly in 'Why I Never Became A Dancer', 1995 and 'It’s Not The Way I Want To Die, 2005'.

Margate is synonymous with her discovery of sex and double standards of promiscuity. The images of Margate in the former are bleakly washed out, indicating its past emotional function as Emin escaped the seedy Golden Mile, whilst the men who called her a slag will remain there, too narrow-minded to change or move on.

Big Dick Small Girl, 1994

The latter is a rendering of the rollercoaster track from the fairground “Dreamland” where Tracey worked as teen. The sculpture was actually born out of a dream Emin had: ‘I dreamt I was on a rollercoaster ride in Margate when we got stuck. Next to me was a 30 foot penis.’

She apparently used the veins of the penis as rungs on a ladder to climb down. The title refers to how Tracey has always wanted to die peacefully, as her life has always been chaotic. It perhaps explains how penises have an almost totemic symbolism in her other works, such as the mono print 'Big Dick Small Girl', 1994.

In its entirety, Tracy’s story is overwhelming - in her bravery and the endless depths of work, especially her writing. The retrospective managed to subtly divide her progress, both chronologically and topically.

We wonder what impact 20 Years has had on the cultural masses of Edinburgh, so we stop to peer in the gallery’s visitor book. The last admission boasts extreme negativity,

‘Before you have kids, you need to stop thinking about yourself all the time and grow up.’

A cruel remark, but one that shows Tracey, warts and all, is still often considered to be on some levels socially unacceptable. She documents her life in a way that’s painfully real but beautiful nonetheless. And we respect and champion that.

 
Words: Laura Sutherland
All images copyrighted to Tracey Emin, courtesy of Jay Jopling / Cube, London.