janaína tschäpe
The works of German-Brazilian artist Janaína Tschäpe span several different media, from photography and film to drawing and installation. Tschäpe has shown throughout South America, Europe, and Asia and has recently gained recognition in the United States. Among her more well known works are Agua Viva (2003), After the Rain (2003), Dream Sequences (2002), 100 Little Deaths (1998-2002), and He Drowned in Her Eyes as She Called Him to Follow (2000). Appropriately named after an Afro-Brazilian water goddess, Tschäpe’s creations resemble sensuous, bulbous sea creatures sheathed in latex, fluidly maneuvering through eerie aquatic environs. She sometimes depicts the stage-by-stage body-morphing process of human into fish or bird. Her more recent work addresses the ambiguity of time, blurring the contemporary and ancient. Tschäpe’s interests lie in mythology, the relation of earth and body, and the overlap of reality and dream. Given her Germanic background, it is easy to recognize a strong Brothers Grimm influence. Tschäpe often portrays her fairytales-gone-wrong in series of images, accompanied by letters and a film.
One such tri-part work, Sala de Espera (Waiting Room) records the dilemma of a young woman who begins sprouting wings. Filled with wonder and anxiety, she questions her transformation in a letter to her professor - what sort of wings are these, those of an angel or a beast? Several photographs from the series present Tschäpe in the midst of this horrifyingly beautiful conversion. A fleshy, inchoate birdface suctions Tschäpe's human face; claws thrust through her finger tips; embryonic fluid clings to ambiguous body parts. Unsure of the outcome, Tschäpe includes images of both angelic and demonic possibility. Farmscene seems to hang in the balance. Bat-like wings merge from Tschäpe's shoulders. Half-developed, perhaps the grotesque will soon give way to angelic white feathers. Yet, doubt pervades. The artist, slender and bare, crouches away from the all-exposing flash of the camera. Any attempt to conceal her growths - whether they be celestial or monstrous - fail.
--Mandy Burrow, MFA, Studio Art, George Washington University