Issue link: http://papercitymagazine.uberflip.com/i/934095
Top and left: Installation views, "The Memory of your Touch," Xavier Hufkens, Brussels, 2017 © Tracey Emin. Courtesy Allard Bovenburg Above: I wanted you more, 2017 © Tracey Emin. Courtesy HV-Studio, Brussels 59 you're 17 or 18, you've never even heard of the word "existential," yet you're living it, and suddenly you're reading Dostoevsky and you're going, 'Oh my god! Oh! I understand this.' When previously you're considered as not being very bright or, you know, maybe intellectually challenged or with learning difficulties, and suddenly you realize it's because you weren't learning the right things or the things you responded to. That's a validating realization to have. It's a good impetus for the work. Yeah, and when I've gotten too good at things, I stop doing them, because I'm not a graphic designer. Once I've worked out what the code is, I then have to move on to the next code. A scientist wouldn't keep inventing the same thing, would they? Now, you're creating massive sculptures. I saw your works in the South of France, and I was utterly taken by them. What brought you to that body of work? I think probably a bad thing: searing ambition. There's one big difference in male and female artists. It's that female artists work on a much easier scale. When you look at someone like Louise Bourgeois, who makes these very delicate, small prints that are very personal, and then she'd make these big, giant sculptures … No matter how amazing her prints were, and her diaries and her drawings and her sewn works, if she hadn't made those big sculptures, she wouldn't be in history as she's going to be. And I think because I've worked with Louise — I did a collaboration with her, and I knew her — it was a good influence on me to think bigger, to think bigger picture. Literally make up-scaled things. And my mom died last year, and I had a sabbatical as well, and within that sabbatical I had a list of things that I wanted to do. This was like a year and a half ago. One of those things was that I wanted to make a very large bronze. And I did. Are you continuing with them? Definitely. But the first ones, they were a fluke. They just worked. It's amazing, and it's not easy, because, you can make a small mess, but you can't make a big one. The other thing, as well — you can't get rid of a ton of bronze or two tons of bronze. You can't. Melt it all down? What are you gonna do? So, you have to get it right. Otherwise, you really have to live with it. You have to store it, live with it, look at it, and think about it. Often with me, there's this external and internal thing. It was an internal ambition to be able to take a bigger leap. And I did it. These works are really contending with history. Yeah. Too right. They are. You're also creating paintings. The minute you're dealing with oil painting or creating large-scale painting, you're also contending with history. See, before, even though that was the art that I responded to — Edvard Munch was my favorite artist — in the end of the '80s, I realized that was pointless, me going down that route, because when you're younger, you think it's all been said or you think that, as a woman, you can't take on the history of painting because it's such a male language. So many people thought that, they stopped painting — not just women. I can paint. So, I think that if you're good at something, then you should do it. I think one of the reasons I stopped painting … Well, it's a long story. But, I had an abortion, and when I was pregnant, I couldn't stand the smell of the oil paint, and then afterwards, I was too guilty to paint. And I felt that I had to, I don't know, do other things to find myself, reconcile my guilt, work in other ways, which I did for a long time. And then, weirdly enough, around the age when I couldn't have children anymore because I'm too old: Wow, I start painting again. Ferociously. And I'm sure it's got something to do with being tied up with my personal history, the way I work, the way my body works, my body memory and all that kind of thing. I know it is. Since you're talking about the artists that you've admired and legacy — what would you like your artistic legacy to be? When I come to Dallas, it's going to be for MTV Re:Define, and as everyone knows, I do quite a lot of AIDS charity, whether its Terrence Higgins Trust, amfAR, Elton John AIDS Foundation. I'm there, and I'm very proactive in AIDS awareness, challenging people on the stigma of it, et cetera. Right from the beginning. Being an artist, being in a position to be a spokesperson for these kinds of causes, that's pretty good. Because if I wasn't a good artist, I wouldn't be in a position to do it. It feeds itself. So, something which helps loads of people, you know, for a long time ahead. My art can help people: Even if people don't care about my art — they may hate my art, they hate me — my art can help people, and that's a good thing to know. So, it helps me go to sleep at night, knowing that I'm doing the right thing.