Sophie Calle is showing at the Whitechapel Gallery until January, and I strongly recommend a visit. She is showing “Take care of yourself” (Prenez soin de vous) downstairs, and a number of earlier works upstairs in the gallery, notably ‘The bronx’, and a collaboration with Paul Auster, which is documented in ‘The Gotham Handbook’.
Image borrowed from Whitechapel Gallery
Take care of yourself presents a large body of work whereby Sophie has an email ‘de-crypted’ or, explored, by 107 professional females. The the email is an ex-boyfriends break-up letter, the last line of which gives the work its title. I was interested in the methods employed in bringing together the professionals she used; I speculated about their common aims, as to whether there was a desire to prove something through research, perhaps that he was a bastard beyond question. I also saw how empowering this might be, and to an extent it provided a therapy, not only to the artist, but the participants; though I think Calle would dispute that.
I wondered what it was she expected to or wanted to achieve from the offset, I wondered if there was a goal to the work, and how would she know when it was finished, been explored, and unpicked enough. Where did 107 come from? I saw the work as a process that Calle spread across different disciplines and professions. I speculated about what this process was; perhaps to explore language, or was it to make revenge, or to ease heart ache?
I don’t think for a minute that Calle did the work simply for the sake of narcissism, in order to make herself feel better, or as an act of revenge. In which case is it a ‘method’ to get people together to analyse and look at human conditions through as many professions as possible. Or is the goal simply to present data surrounding a letter, for the sake of entertainment, or excitement about language. The work makes sense to me, by looking at it as a genuine, bordering on scientific investigation into the people involved; our relationships, the way we deal with break-ups, write letters to and communicate with (ex)lovers. I started to think of old letters I had written to people, wondering what it was I had communicated, or learning of things I wanted to communicate and didn’t; often I cringed thinking about it. I wanted my letters, both sent and received to go through Calle’s process.
I realise that a major aspect of her work that excites me is her ability to present data, and reveal just how interesting these elements of communication are. The work is presented in glass cabernets/frames (and of course a number of films) of varying shapes and sizes, some with type set on the glass and some set back inside, with the glass as a window to the data. Though I loved the films of the letter- performed; professional clown being my favorite, I was more taken with the written material, and portraits of contributors. My favorite being a letter from her Mother in response to ‘the break-up letter’, a really beautiful sentiment; her Mother says all the things that she should, and her analysis is perhaps the most interesting of them all, talking about his written word, but also offering the reassurances required. Her analysis is also dropped into another piece of written conversation which is blurred out as you make your way through the letter, and I found myself desperate to read it to the end trying to read the rest of the conversation through the frosted glass.
Image borrowed from Whitechapel Gallery – Documented in: The Gotham Handbook (1998)
In galleries 8 and 9 there were some earlier works, some of which I had seen already in books, some not. Her collaboration with Paul Auster saw the author giving Calle a set of instructions which she must act out in New York. Auster being the perfect candidate to give instructions for ‘how to improve life in New York’. I had a moment here where I felt a Goldsmiths project might have been borrowed from her work (intervention/antisocial). Calle undertook this task and followed the instructions strictly for a week, adding other elements to the instructions, for example methods of recording her findings. The ‘comments and suggestions’ pages filled out by passers by, and my favorite was her smile quantifier; smiles given against those received (people smiling back at you). I loved the numerical, plot-able, instantly understandable feedback. The project also came to a similar conclusion as my intervention; that kindness can often be rewarded with hatred! Though I was surprised to see that noone had tried to trash her space.
The Bronx was a piece where Calle talked to strangers and asked them to take her to their favorite place in the Bronx to be photographed. She would then type a short report afterwards. I saw this very much as a research piece, though obviously on a tiny scale. I loved this small piece of dialogue, and how the simple question of “take me to your favorite place to be photographed” could blow open such openness in people, and worked more as a short interview; it gave these instant feedbacks of peoples concerns, what they missed, what they loved, used to love, and what they wanted in the future. It showed a humanness to the city, and I hate to say it but could be ‘used’ in so many ways; the way people talk about ‘architecture’, how they relate to the city, their memories.
Her work is presented poetically and emotionally; I think why I was so drawn to it. The work is obviously art, though I couldn’t help think about it in a design research context, and I remember thinking about this when I saw her Hotel work. Which I remember blogging about at the beginning of third year. I can see her as a great inspiration for methods in design research; contextualising things in the real world, and perhaps most importantly in her ability to communicate outcomes.
