Sue de Beer paints a lonely, haunting portrait with moving imagery. She
is a filmmaker, but she is ultimately an artist in the sense that her
short films exist in a sculptural environment that typically inhabits a
physical space - usually a gallery - replete with film stills, three
dimensional objects and more. Her films are often inspired or influenced
by literary works and deal with identity, memory, and paranormal
activity. In her film
The Ghosts, an occult hypnotist recovers lost lengths
of time from peoples' memories and returns them as if they are new
memories. In another film,
The Quickening, sexuality and desire is
explored in an oppressive environment of Puritanical New England in the
18th century. The installations in which De Beer presents her films
creates an almost dreamlike environment that leaves the viewer wondering
if the time spent within the installation was a dream itself. Premiering
tonight at Marianne Boesky Gallery, De Beer will be presenting
The Blue
Lenses, which is set in Abu Dhabi and tells the tale of a woman given
surgery to restore her vision: upon the bandages being removed from her
eyes, she sees people with animal heads instead of human heads. It is
inspired by British author Daphne du Maurier's novel of the same name.
Indeed, it is the first time the artist has filmed in the Middle East
and the entire exhibition has flourishes of an Islamic theme, but with a
film noir slant - even the windows of the gallery have been tinted a
jewel-toned blue to hint at the power and beauty of Islam. In the
following interview, De Beer talks about The Blue Lenses, rescuing
Proust from an apartment fire, and trying to explain American puritanism
to German electro-clash musicians.
OLIVER KUPPER: I want to talk about your first video piece, Making Out
With Myself, because it's a powerful first foray into your future
oeuvre, where did the idea to make out with yourself come from?
SUE DE BEER: I made that piece in 1997 - that's 18 years ago now. Wow. I
don't quite remember why that image came up - possibly I thought it was
funny that one could do that as a moving image. Funny and lonely. And
intimate. It's still showing, that film. Maybe people relate to the
awkwardness of it.
OK: Did you grow up watching a lot of films - was there one particular
film that made you want to explore cinema as a medium?
SD: I watched a lot of films in my 20s. The filmmakers I continue to
think about are ones that use real people and small budgets - like Paul
Morrissey, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Werner Herzog, Abel Ferrara, and
Argento. They are all sculptors to me - I think because the budgets are
small I can always imagine walking around in the rooms they are shooting
in. They have a physical presence. I also like the tension between
what's real and what's clearly fake in those films. The bad acting
sometimes lends some authenticity to the moment, which is something I
think about when I am working.
OK: Literature has also had a profound affect on your work as an artist
- anyone from Proust to Maurier to Dennis Cooper - can you remember the
first book you ever read and how it made you feel?
SD: I don't remember the first book I ever read. I first read Proust
when a friend of mine had a fire in his apartment, and came to live with
me. I went back with him to his flat the morning after it burned -
everything was black. We took what few things were left - I remember the
selection included a copy of Proust's
Remembrance of Things Past, a
bottle of cologne, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and a camera. He stayed
with me for 3 months, then left the book with me after he moved out. I
read it cover to cover.
I met Dennis Cooper when I was quite young - I want to say 20. My
boyfriend at the time was friends with him, and we would go out to LA
and stay with him. So I met him before reading his books which is quite
a privilege to be able to say. I found them to be frightening and
romantic at the same time. The quiet parts are - theres nothing else
quite like them.
OK: You lived in Berlin for a spell, and created three films there, do
you think that had an influence on your work or do you think it sent
your aesthetic in a new or different direction?
SD: Yes. I miss Berlin. It radically changed the color in my work. I was
able to build huge sets there, and was able to assemble skeleton crews
easily. It was also nice having some distance on American culture, and
making work with that removal. I never could have shot
The Quickening in
the US for example. Trying to explain Puritans to Gina D'Orio and Annika
Trost (the two German electro-clash musicians who played Puritans in my
film) made me understand Puritans in a new way. They didn't like the
hats, for example. Gina made me explain Thanksgiving to her.
OK: You are not only creating the films and showing them in theaters -
you present them as installations with photographs or film stills,
sculptures and more. Do you feel like you are doing more justice to these
films by presenting them in this way?
SD: Yes.
OK: Your film,
The Blue
Lenses, which premiers at Marianne Boesky tomorrow night, was your first
film shot in the Middle East. What was it like shooting there?
SD: Wonderful.
OK: The installation is also centered around the beauty of Islamic
culture. Are you subconsciously or consciously trying to paint this world
in a different light - a lot of people think of Islam, the Middle East,
as a hot bed of terrorism and violence?
SD: I had very little experience with the Middle East before I shot
there. I had no idea what to expect, and I purposefully left the shoot
open to change - to be changed by the place. I mostly knew images from
the news, from Hollywood movies which did not seem accurate, or a little
bit of Iranian new wave cinema. I did not want my film to be political
or topical. So I shot using this Noir format, which is a western
narrative format. A western genre. And I found the images and places
when I got there.
So my film has new images in it - I hope. Ones you wouldn't normally get
to see of that place. But it isn't accurate which I like. Its a
fictional world. I like the idea of the audience picking it apart. But
also of an audience just getting lost in this world, and not worrying
terribly much what is fictional and what is real.
OK: What is the ultimate overarching theme of The Blue Lenses and why it
is important in the context of our current zeitgeist?
SD: That's a difficult question. Maybe the 'theme' and why it would be
relevant now are two different things. The film tries to describe a man
who doesn't want to be describable. I think the older I get the more
impossible it seems to me to fully articulate a person or a place. I am
starting to enjoy people most when they reveal very little about
themselves. I like sitting silently with people and just watching them
do things. How they do things. Daniel I thought would change the way he
does things on purpose for a time. To be confusing.
Why the Blue Lenses would be important to make now is not the story,
which is not a new kind of story, or not the 'theme', but maybe its
marrying this kind of story to that particular place. Maybe it changes
your expectations of the story, and changes your expectations of the
place.
OK: Is there anything that you are really excited about right now that's
driving your next project?
SD: The unpredictability of the shoot and how I never knew what to
expect is still electrifying to me. I would like my next project to have
more of that.
Sue de Beer: 'The Blue Lenses' opens tonight and runs until
October 25, 2015 at Marianne Boesky Gallery. Necessary reading: Sue De
Beer's comprehensive 2003 monograph 'Hans and Grete' is a rare
out-of-print document of de Beer's 2002 short film about school
shooters. Companion reading: 'The Complete Box Set of Proust's
Remembrance of Things Past'. Food for thought: 'The Blue Lenses and Other
Stories' by Daphne du Maurier. Must Watch: 'The Bitter Tears of Petra Von
Kant' by Rainer Werner Fassbinder. Text by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. Follow
Autre on Instagram: @autremagazine