Tracey Emin is characterised by her boldness in tackling the taboo with profound wit ever since she emerged on the scene as a YBA alongside the likes of Damien Hurst and Sarah Lucas. Her newest exhibition, I Followed You To The End is no exception. As a harrowingly beautiful artistic display of regret, love, the body, pain and intimacy- it’s shocking yet unsurprising, calm yet chaotic, unpleasant yet daringly real.
Emin has worked with a wide range of media, and always with a deeply and passionately personal subject matter- urging you to understand, and to feel. Emin has never shied away from publicising what many keep private, taking her most famous work My Bed (1998) for example, which presented her turmoil after a depressive episode- featuring items such as empty bottles, dirty underwear, condoms and stained clothes. The depiction of desperation sparked critics to condemn her art, finding her brazen sexuality and mess unappealing. As well as being highly controversial due to people’s judgement of its label as art (or even ‘good’ art) it’s vital in understanding her as an artist. Emin’s work is a potent form of self-expression which parallels her mental and physical state for viewers to interpret.
Having achieved notoriety for art revealing intimate details about her personal life, there was undoubtedly going to be an impact on her artistic inspiration after her diagnosis with bladder cancer in 2020. Featured in this exhibition is a video of her stoma gushing blood which spills over, covering the canvasses. Instead of perceiving her leaking stoma bag as shameful, it serves as a reminder that she is alive, in Emin’s own words– “it’s actually quite beautiful… my stoma keeps me alive, this blood that is flowing is my blood, and that should be a positive thing. My blood is flowing. It’s pulsing, it’s breathing, it’s alive.”
The diptych reading “I Don’t Want To Have Sex Because My Body Feels Dead” exposes the difficult experiences that she feels profoundly, finding solace through succinct language. Therefore, the emptiness that consumed her body post-surgery confidently sets the exhibition within the liminal time frame between life and death that Emin’s body seems to occupy. Thus, marking significant evolution in her portfolio, which in the past centered around her sex life, notably Everyone I Have Ever Slept With (1963-1995) which featured a tent with the names of everyone she’s ever shared a bed with stitched into the interior. When comparing examples of Emin’s early work to her most recent, it is evident how her relationship with sex and her body has shifted and how it is truly representative of a life, through heartbreak, healing, loss and surgery.
Emin imbues each canvas with intentional mess and surging intensity through the erratic brushstrokes, whilst the hollow outline of two lovers reclining on top of pastel backgrounds makes us question the distinction between being physically and emotionally bare. Additionally, the bronze figure in the centre of the exhibition is textured, imperfect and unapologetically- and literally-in the way, forcing us to confront our own vulnerability as we stare right through the open legs of the eight-and-a-half-foot statue.
Though typical use of blood red in art connotes death, Emin subverts this in the blood motif and in the video of her stoma, as proof that she is living. Take Me To Heaven, for example, spotlights a nude woman lying in bed with blood spraying from her body now adopts a newfound meaning- not only of her agonising pain but also of her survival. It’s in the titular artwork, I Followed You To The End where the vivid blood-red drips down the canvas, harshly contrasting the eerie walls of White Cube, begging you to see Emin’s pain whilst the torment stained canvas is what leaves you unable to look away.
“My Bed, Tracey Emin, Tate Britain” by Andy Hay is licensed under CC BY 2.0.