Pores and skin is the principle barrier between our insides and the surface world. It’s variously powerful and penetrable, neatly containing our blood and guts whereas additionally being weak to exterior prods and pressures. In Elsa Rouy’s new work (at GNYP in Berlin), the pores and skin is rendered viscerally in thick paint. Typically it appears waxy and stretched, as if her figures are wrapped in plastic packaging or hovering someplace between residing, respiratory human and inanimate doll; in different works, it’s damaged and bruised, slashed by means of with skinny streaks of paint, effervescent up from layers beneath, or flushed from burst capillaries beneath the floor. She additionally performs with objects of clothes – faraway from particular markers of time or tradition – which dangle from the physique as if a pure a part of it, pulled and tugged, concurrently revealing and concealing the shape that lies beneath.
Her figures invite the viewer right into a tantalizing, twisted recreation, by which we’d guess who’s in cost and who’s submissive. Sadistic and masochistic traits might be witnessed in the identical determine, suggesting an inner battle that the thoughts finds itself twisted up in, as completely different elements of the psyche vie for management. There’s a stronger sense of isolation than in lots of Rouy’s earlier items. Quite a few work give attention to particular person folks, who act out on the canvas for an unseen viewers, or huddle into themselves defensively. Whereas some seem like aggressors, there’s a fragility to every of them of their emotionally secluded state. The violence in these new items is extra delicate than her earlier our bodies of labor, a fancy vitality that simmers beneath the floor. Viewers would possibly first be drawn to the psychological unrest that runs by means of them, relatively than extra overt gore, solely discovering their injured or twisted elements on nearer inspection.
Even when pictured collectively, her figures typically appear misplaced in their very own thought, relatively than merging into one. Some figures gaze straight on the viewer with sharply glistening eyes. Others direct their glassy stares to at least one facet, as if fixated upon one thing within the gallery area. Lots of their stances are uncomfortable; a lady poses with legs vast open as if emulating a place of empowered sexuality, however there’s something awkward in her physicality, as her high half slumps in on itself. One other determine tumbles to the ground, and it’s unclear whether or not these round her are pushing her down or serving to her up. A pregnant lady glares with a fiercely self-possessed expression, her uncovered child bump protruding proudly.
Males’s our bodies don’t all the time characteristic in Rouy’s work. Right here they’re weak. A nude male determine hangs the other way up by his toes, devoid of identifiable options, maybe useless already, or an energetic participant in an influence recreation. Others are curved over, with delicate kinds and flaccid genitals. The one muscular male physique within the exhibition leans protectively in on himself, solely his bruised again and shoulders seen throughout the limits of the canvas. Throughout the works, the ladies are greater bodily, maybe having fun with moments of vengeful aggression in direction of the lads. Is it left ambiguous whether or not their violence is warranted or welcome. Her figures at instances really feel trapped inside their pores and skin containers, whereas others appear able to burst out, as their exterior edges blur into the area round them. The thoughts’s darkest elements seem finally uncontainable by the physique, it psychic mess threatening to eat every little thing in sight. —Emily Steer
