Known for her large-scale video installations, the work of Berlin-based multi-disciplinary artist MARIANNA SIMNETT draws upon the mythic structures of fairy tales and fables, building up the obscure and enigmatic worlds. Creating an impression of being a part of a dream within a dream, Marianna’s work is the most accurate representation of the theme behind this issue – Fever Dreams. (Image: Marianna Simnett, Blood in My Milk (video still), 2018, Courtesy the artist, Société, Berlin, and Matt’s Gallery)
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Simnett sits down with Editor KATARINA DORIC to talk about fear of the unknown, taboos and her DSCENE cover.
What happens in your fever dreams? — I have a very active night persona. She is a bit like Fuseli’s devil in The Nightmare, 1781, sitting on my stomach. She screams she bites; she has paranoia, claustrophobia, insomnia, and sexsomnia. She chews up the daily grind of reality and turns it into vivid, sparkly concoctions. The fever dream menu includes botched operations, taxidermied roadkill, rocking horses, severed tails, needles, oversized toys, factory farms, and whirlwinds.
Throughout your work, you explore the connection between different species, particularly human-animal relations, while also creating hybrids that have features of both. What should we learn from other species and their hybrid forms? — We have always been chimeras. Nobody is exempt from hosting alien others. We can learn about vocalization from whales, REM sleep patterns from birds, and sexuality from seahorses. What’s most important is learning to embrace a porosity between lifeforms, allowing new patterns and languages to emerge between us and other creatures.
Being raised within these paradigms, we presumed it to be a universal one, and there is no alternative. With your work, are you trying to help us imagine another future? — Art is a useful tool for testing out ideas for reconfiguring the world. Most artists are, in some way or another, carving out an alternative space. Just the fact that one has chosen this path already creates friction and deliberate instability. Some other artists I believe to be particularly excellent in helping us imagine new futures are Ian Cheng, Tourmaline, Ed Fornieles, Julia Phillips, Holly Herndon, Mat Dryhurst, Candice Lin, P. Staff, Precious Okoyomon, and Asad Raza. My worlds often exist within the realm of fiction, but they always break out from pure fantasy in their attempt to probe the real and transform it.
Do you think your art could be a way for the observers to overcome the fear of the unknown? — My work is unabashedly confrontational. I’m really interested in spaces of prohibition and spend a lot of time thinking about how to represent feelings and ideas that are supposed to be repressed or ignored. I suppose it’s cathartic, an expulsion, a type of ridding or cleansing. Do you think the definition of the human is changing? — Yes, it’s a particularly exciting time right now for the human. Individuality is becoming obsolete, and we are realizing that we won’t survive without cooperation and collaboration. Technological advances are rapidly changing prospects for art, authorship, ownership, and distribution. It’s exciting to be an artist right now, at a time when such huge structural shifts are happening before our eyes.
“Art is a useful tool for testing out ideas for reconfiguring the world. Most artists are, in some way or another, carving out an alternative space. Just the fact that one has chosen this path already creates friction and deliberate instability.”
– Marianna Simnett
Are there any taboos left? — There will never not be taboos. It has always been important to try to identify spaces for transgression. Our particular challenge today is identifying those spaces amidst content abundance and the repackaging of otherwise transgressive gestures into flattened content and trends. Tell us about your DSCENE cover. — This is a still from Blue Moon, an AI project I recently made in collaboration with Arash Akbari for my show OGRESS at Société Berlin. We created a data set for training an AI model that consisted of footage of me dressed up as an exaggerated version of the goddess Athena, who crafted the first flute. My body continuously shapeshifts and morphs as the AI attempts to reconstruct my image. One hundred unique iterations will be released as NFTs on October 6th.
How about the new work you just did? What was the filming process like? — The Severed Tail was a grotesquely ambitious project involving a cast and crew of over fifty people. We shot over five days in December in a freezing Berlin bunker. It was not for the faint of heart. Each day had a different theme: The Party, The Laboratory, The Dog Show, The Ocean, and The Farm. The lavish sets, designed by Emilia Margulies, were like walking into one of Leonara Carrington’s paintings. Dressed in exquisite but skimpy costumes designed by Mona May, the cast—all of whom were non-professional actors—gave fantastic performances. There was also a pig in an aquarium, pig shit, puke, puppies, mice, and file corruption. It was a life-changing and unforgettable experience.
“I have always carried signs and symbols, talismans, and trinkets as reminders of what I do and who I am. Tails, dissection blades, dead cockroaches, and pocket-sized items are always on my person to create invisible threads of attachment to my current projects. There has never been a boundary. People constantly advise me to create more separation between my life and my art, but I don’t know how I would even begin.”
– Marianna Simnett
You can also be seen extending your work in your private life. I’m talking about a rabbit tale you wore at Art Basel. Is there a boundary between your work and your life? — I have always carried signs and symbols, talismans, and trinkets as reminders of what I do and who I am. Tails, dissection blades, dead cockroaches, and pocket-sized items are always on my person to create invisible threads of attachment to my current projects. There has never been a boundary. People constantly advise me to create more separation between my life and my art, but I don’t know how I would even begin.
In one interview, you pointed out that birds are the only nonmammalian animals to have REM sleep. What do you think the birds are dreaming about? — Birds scream; they don’t dream. Kurt Cobain tells us in one of his journals, “Birds scream at the top of their lungs in horrified hellish rage every morning at daybreak to warn us all of the truth, but sadly we don’t speak bird.”
What are your dreams for the future? — My personal dreams are: to visit Japan, write and direct my first feature film, match Louise Bourgeois’ lifelong output, host a TV show, perform more live shows, and shoot a documentary on animals and war.
Keep up with Marianna on Instagram – @mariannasimnett
