Reminiscent of the collections of museums of medical history or the gloomy displays of reliquaries containing bones that the artists encountered while living in Catania and Mexico City – she now resides outside of Viterbo – the works of Eva Gerd are only seemingly macabre. Rather, they ensnare us with a joyful insistence on their own familiarity, like disturbing, little monsters brought to life by a Frankenstein-like artist. As Gerd traverses a plethora of techniques and media, found objects, especially natural ones – plants, dead animals, bones – have become increasingly central to her production. Skintight, transparent garments “reattaches” the web of nerves and veins that death has stripped of the objects. Bedecked with ornaments of fine needlework that evoke the artistry of seamstresses from past centuries, these bones have been dressed up for their reanimation, or trapped for curious display.
The artist emerges in equal amounts as creator and Other of works that, initially dead, have gained an uncanny presence by being clad in fabric, embroidered, or drawn with surgical precision. Her own body she subjects to comparable treatments during performances. In a recent series of graphic works, the human body reappears as Gerd introduces what in German is known as Glanzbilder. In Denmark where she grew up, children collected and exchanged the glossy images printed on paper, though in her collages they evoke the past by being from her parents’ and grandparents’ time. The smiling children of the Glanzbilder are now transformed and fragmented, growing roots or crowning slender stalks. It is not farfetched to sense loss and displacement in Gerd’s production; and recently she drew the face of her prematurely deceased brother like a fading sun, whose “rays” – an organic web – are taking over their source with a strange life of their own. Toying with abjection, Gerd’s art evades melancholy. The return of the repressed has become delightful.
Morten Steen Hansen
Eva Gerd 