For any of us who are shy or anxious about interacting with others in the outside world, we might think of the face we “put on” that enable us to feel less fearful. For Lena Guberman (previously), a recent series of ceramic sculptures titled INS_IDE_OUT delves into her childhood experiences with social anxiety and the uncertainties of the unknown.
“The mask provides a protective shell and presents a ‘perfect’ appearance to the outside world but fails to stop the fears and emotions from bursting out,” Guberman tells Colossal.
Each piece is modeled on the same melancholy face of a young, brown-haired girl, with painted and sculpted elements that range from spikes to arrows to a dead bird. Emotionally evocative and sometimes slightly unsettling, her sculptures explore the spectrum of feelings associated with anxiety.
Guberman is currently planning a project that expands upon her use of ceramics by adding other materials. See more work on her website, Instagram, and Behance.
Depending on how you look at them, the tendrils seemingly growing from Joan Clare Brown’s porcelain bases could be perceived as soft and delicate or spiny, defensive, and slightly unsettling. Dualities lie at the heart of the artist’s approach to ceramics, especially in her ongoing series Ed, which takes personal experience and human anatomy as starting points for a poignant study of grief.
“I started this series as a response to my father’s sudden passing,” Brown tells Colossal. “He was diagnosed with widespread pancreatic cancer and passed away the same day, ultimately of sepsis from complications of a perforated bowel.” In the Ed works, the cinched base, which mimics a frilly-edged textile cushion or pouch, represents a perforated organ, and the long, growing blades or tendrils emblematize infection.
“Ed #5” (2023), porcelain and mason stain, 6 x 4 x 5 inches
The inherent hardness and brittleness of porcelain juxtapose with the softness of textile-like surfaces and organic, plant-like fronds. Each color reflects specific childhood memories of Brown’s father, like the blue and green hues drawn from his favorite flannel shirt or light pinks and purples redolent of a tablecloth used at her family dinners.
“Through the permanence of the ceramic form, my hope was to turn something menacing and insidious into a nostalgic and meaningful reminder,” Brown says. “And by making these pieces, in a way, I feel that he is still present.”
“Ed #16” (2023), porcelain, mason stain, glaze, and luster, 7 x 6 x 4 inchesDetail of “Ed #13”“Ed #10” (2023), porcelain and mason stain, 7 x 5 x 5 inches“Ed #11” (2023), porcelain and mason stain, 7 x 8 x 7 inches“Ed #12” (2023), porcelain and mason stain, 7 x 5 x 4 inchesDetail of “Ed #11”“Ed #4” (2022), porcelain and mason stain, 7 x 4 x 4 inches“Ed #3” (2022), porcelain, mason stain, glaze, and luster, 8 x 6 x 4 inches
In a 1906 essay, psychiatrist Ernst Jentsch coined the term “uncanny,” or unheimlich, meaning “unhomely” or “not home-like” in German. He defined the psychological phenomenon as the experience of something new or unknown that might initially be interpreted negatively.
Austrian neurologist and founder of psychoanalysis Sigmund Freud popularized the word with the publication of his book The Uncanny in 1919, which elaborated on the idea as not just the sensation of the unknown but also something capable of bringing out hidden or repressed elements, going so far as to describe the uncanny as frightening.
During the 20th century, the Surrealists often turned to the concept to build a sense of mystery or tension in their works. Meret Oppenheim, for instance, famously created a teacup lined with fur, simply titled “Object” (1936), widely regarded as an iconic example of the movement.
Oppenheim is one of more than two dozen artists whose work will appear in the National Museum of Women in the Arts’ forthcoming exhibition, Uncanny, featuring recent acquisitions and rarely shown pieces in NMWA’s collection, plus special loans.
More than 60 works by renowned figures of modern art history like Louise Bourgeois, Remedios Varo, and Leonora Carrington will be shown alongside the likes of contemporary artists like Shahzia Sikander, Laurie Simmons, and Gillian Wearing. The large-scale presentation is the first to approach the concept through a feminist lens and is organized around themes of safety and surreal imaginings.
The show also plumbs the phenomenon of the “uncanny valley,” a term coined by robotics engineer Masahiro Mori in 1970 to describe the apprehension or discomfort one feels when confronted with something that is almost human but not quite, like video game characters that appear realistic yet still somehow seem “off.”
In Laurie Simmons’ “The Music of Regret IV” (1994), a female ventriloquist dummy sits in the center of a circle of six male dummy dolls, whose gazes are trained on her as she looked out into the distance. Tapping into a medium that has been used in the horror genre to instill a sense of creepiness or dread, Simmons’ central character is dramatically spotlit, her smile belying the reality that she is unsettlingly hemmed in.
Along the theme of safety, or specifically unsafe spaces, Fabiola Jean-Louis’s elaborately staged photographs tell two stories at once. The artist portrays “seemingly innocuous portraits of close acquaintances wearing elaborate period costumes typical of upper-class European women, while disturbing images of racial and sexual violence are hidden within the background or details of a dress, reminding the viewer of the lineage of violence,” says an exhibition statement.
Many works in the show address physical trauma or the body’s relationship to the unknown. Frida Orupabo’s photographic collages, for example, portray Black figures that evoke colonial histories, critiquing historical violence and injustices through a process of fragmenting, distorting, and multiplying body parts.
Orupabo’s compositions echo the surrealist collaborative practice of cadavre exquis, or exquisite corpse, in which participants add to elements others have drawn without being able to see their work, producing intuitive and peculiar drawings.
“The enigmatic, darkly humorous and psychologically tense artworks in Uncanny give form to women artists’ powerful expressions of existential unease,” said NMWA Associate Curator Orin Zahra, who organized the exhibition. She continues:
Rather than comfort and soothe, these ghostly and fantastical figures haunt the unconscious. Instead of picturesque images, artists offer disquieting spaces that unsettle the viewer. In focusing on the ambiguity between reality and fiction, artists explore increasingly blurred lines between the artificial and eerily human.
Uncanny opens February 28 and continues through August 10 in Washington, D.C., highlighting painting, sculpture, photography, works on paper, and video made between 1954 and 2022. Learn more and plan your visit on the museum’s website.
