Art Mûr
5826 rue St-Hubert
+1 514 933 0711
January 8th to February 26th
As sure as the tides will change, Sarah Garzoni, artist and taxidermist of the exhibition Corps Étranger, now showing at Galerie Art Mûr, responded to my email an hour after my review of her show was published. So, Part 2: Revenge of the Taxidermist. And since I did all of the talking in Part 1, I'm going to let Ms. Garzoni take the reins on this one: We conducted it in French but I translated it since all of what has been written here has been in English. (However since I am not a professional translator, I have left the French version here for you to read as well – if anyone has a better translation, please let me know.)
Greg Stone: Why did you become interested in taxidermy as an art form?
Comment, pourquoi t'es-tu intéressée à l'art de la taxidermie?
Sarah Garzoni: In general, my work questions the relationships that we have with animals. I think there are a few fields where humans behave paradoxically. I always ask, by what means, throughout history and different cultures, can animals become a god, or even how a simple piece of raw material becomes a functional object, like a leather jacket? By what psychological processes, what criteria, decides whether an animal will become a companion, or will end up on our dinner plates? Since the beginning of time, we have used animal skins, animal fat, flesh, horns, scales and secretions... to produce fragrances (musk, amber)... jewelery, dyes, food... deconstructed, transformed, aestheticized the idea of the living animal out of our minds so that the idea of the animal itself becomes a very abstract concept because of our conventions. Cigarette papers, photographic film, candies made from gelatin... applications and animal derivatives are ubiquitous in our daily lives, and appear well anchored in our habits. Using taxidermy to give these animals their original forms, in effect, industrializing the animal, turns that concept [of the abstract animal] on itself. Taxidermy is an in-between, a transitional equilibrium point where the animal, motionless, has both cultural codes (related to the reification of the animal), and a return to its status of being alive.
For example, in Masquerade (2005), the fur coat becomes the animal itself, since all the elements that allow for identification (head, ears ...) were kept. It's the same for Boudoir (2008): The failure to eliminate certain parts of the animal causes a feeling of discomfort, which emerges from the ambivalence. This principle is based on a Kafkaesque metamorphosis, similar to a hallucination in which objects become incarnate and come to life.
D'une manière générale, mon travail interroge les rapports que l'on entretient avec l'animal. Je pense que rares sont les domaines où le comportement de l'homme parait aussi paradoxal : Je me demande toujours quels sont les mécanismes qui, à travers l'histoire ou les différentes cultures, vont mener l'animal au rang d'un dieu, ou bien d'une simple matière première qui deviendra un objet fonctionnel comme une veste de cuir? Par quel processus psychique, sur quels critères, choisie t-on de faire qu'un animal deviendra un compagnon ou finira dans notre assiette? De tous temps, on a utilisé sa peau, ses graisses, sa chair, ses cornes, ses écailles ses sécrétions... pour produire des parfums (musc, ambre...), des bijoux, des colorants, des aliments… Ainsi, déstructuré, transformé, esthetisé, la trace du vivant est très loin de nos esprits, et l'idée de l'animal devient alors une notion bien abstraite au vue de nos habitudes. Papiers de cigarettes, pellicules photos, bonbons de gélatine... les applications et dérivés d'origines animales inscrits en filigranes dans notre quotidien sont omniprésents, et semblent bien ancrés dans nos moeurs. En redonnant leurs formes originelles à ces animaux grâce à la taxidermie, le processus qui va de l'animal vers l'objet dans l'industrialisation, se retourne ici sur lui-même. Il s'agit d'un entre-deux, d'un point d'équilibre transitoire où l'animal, figé, présente à la fois des codes culturels (liés à sa réification), et un retour à son statut d'être vivant.
Par exemple, dans Mascarade (2005), le manteau de fourrure redevient l'animal lui même, puisque tous les éléments qui permet de l'identifier (tête, oreilles…) ont été conservés. Il en va de même pour Boudoir (2008) : Le fait de ne pas éliminer certaines parties de l'animal, provoque un sentiment de gêne, une inquiétante étrangeté, qui se dégage de ces ambivalences. Ce principe est basé sur une métamorphose Kafkaïenne, de l'ordre de l'hallucination, dans lequel les objets s'incarneraient, reprendraient vie.
GS: In general, how did you obtain the animals used in Corps Étranger?
En general, comment as-tu obtenu les animaux que tu as utilise pour Corps étranger?
SG: For the most part, the animals for Corps Étranger were carefully selected from farms, just as we choose bacon. It was part of the process. It would have been ambiguous for me to use only the leftovers from the food industry. I wanted to go through with my reasoning, remain consistent. My goal is obviously not to offend, or to look like some moralist, but simply to raise questions.
Pour la plupart, les animaux pour Corps Etranger ont été consciencieusement choisis dans des élevages, exactement comme l'on choisirai du bacon, cela faisait partie de la démarche. Il aurait été ambiguë de ma part de n'utiliser que des restes de l'industrie alimentaire. Je voulais aller jusqu'au bout de mon raisonnement, rester cohérente. Mon but n'est évidement pas de choquer, ou de porter un regard moraliste sur certaines pratiques mais simplement de susciter des questionnements.
GS: Have you received any messages or comments from animal rights groups?
As-tu reçu des messages ou commentaires des groupes des droits des animaux?
SG: No, not yet. However, I have had 'skin deep' reactions. Notably during a school tour at one of my shows: a father was very shocked that we exposed this kind of thing to children. Although I find some TV programs or images you see on the internet much more violent, I think his reaction was very interesting: No one is shocked at the sight of a leather armchair, but if it still has the head of the animal, it is scandalous, indecent... On the other hand, since taxidermy is a treated skin and "tanned," and covers a certain volume, mimicking an animal form (although now often made of polyurethane), then what about wearing a leather or fur coat? Couldn't we then be considered a kind of "walking piece of taxidermy?"
But more importantly, what about the numbers killed industrially? Which for the most part is hidden from society. They kill nearly a billion animals annually in France alone.2 Should we also hide McDonald's Restaurants from children out of fear that they might figure out the changes that their hamburger went through to become a hamburger? But again, animal sacrifice seems more legitimate, more "natural." Yet, as Jacques Derrida reminds us: "the consumption of meat has never been a biological necessity. We do not eat meat simply because you need protein - protein can be found elsewhere. It is the consumption of the animal, as in the death penalty elsewhere, that is a sacrificial structure, and therefore there is something "cultural" associated with archaic structures that persist which we must analyze.3
Which is more important, creating functional objects or just creating?
It is precisely this kind of problem that interests me. Just like Jean-Baptiste Jeangène Vilmer wrote, for whom 'art reveals, reveals a suffering already existing, it shows what we prefer forcing, in our everyday moral schizophrenia'.1 For him traditional taxidermy is a "trauma," a subversive taxidermy, through its staging confronts the viewer with a reality which has been carefully hidden, it plays the role of revealer.
Non, jamais pour l'instant. En revanche j'ai eu des réactions "très épidermiques". Notamment à l'occasion d'une visite guidée d'une école lors d'une de mes expositions : Un père à été très choqué que l'on fasse visiter ce genre d'expositions à des enfants. Bien que je trouve beaucoup plus violents certains programmes TV, ou images véhiculées par le net, je pense que cette réaction est très intéressante : Si nul n'est choqué à la vue d'un fauteuil de cuir, en revanche, si celui-ci présente encore la tête de l'animal, cela est scandaleux, indécent… D'autre part, en partant du postulat qu'une taxidermie est une peau traitée et "tannée", qui recouvre un certain volume, imitant une forme animale (bien souvent aujourd'hui en mousse polyuréthane), que dire alors du fait de porter un manteau de cuir ou de fourrure : Ne serions nous donc, finalement, pas si loin de sortes de "taxidermies ambulantes"?
Mais surtout, que penser de la cadence industrielle, qui loin de nos yeux, abat près d'un milliard d'animaux par an et ce rien qu'en France?2 Faudrait-il aussi cacher aux enfants tous les Mac Donald's, de peur qu'ils ne devinent tout le chemin qu'il a fallut à leur hamburger pour qu'il ne devienne hamburger… Mais là encore, le sacrifice animal parait plus légitime, plus "naturel". Pourtant, comme nous le rappelle Jacques Derrida : "la consommation de la viande n'a jamais été une nécessité biologique. On ne mange pas de la viande simplement parce qu'on a besoin de protéines — et les protéines peuvent être trouvées ailleurs. Il y a dans la consommation de l'animal, comme dans la peine de mort d'ailleurs, une structure sacrificielle, et donc un phénomène « culturel » lié à des structures archaïques qui persistent et qu'il faut analyser.3
L'art du palais serait il plus important que l'art de créer?
C'est précisément ce genre de problématique qui m'intéresse. Cela rejoint le propos de Jean- Baptiste Jeangène Vilmer pour qui, " l'art dévoile, révèle une souffrance déjà existante, il montre ce que l'on préfère refouler, dans notre schizophrénie morale quotidienne".1 Pour lui, alors que la taxidermie traditionnelle efface le "trauma", la "taxidermie sabotée " (botched texidermy), à travers la mise en scène, confronte le spectateur à la réalité, à ce qui a été jusqu'ici soigneusement caché. Il joue donc le rôle d'un révélateur.
GS: Will you continue to use taxidermy as an artistic medium?
Est-ce que tu vas continuer à utiliser la taxidermie comme un médium artistique?
SG: Not necessarily, I would not want to fall into a routine. Taxidermy has proved to be the form that has best served my purpose, but I think there are many mediums that could allow me to fulfil my artistic process. I think for example as tools, scientific devices are not so far from my thoughts.
Pas nécessairement, je ne voudrai pas tomber dans une sorte de recette. Ici la taxidermie s'est avérée être la forme qui servait au mieux mon propos, mais je pense qu'il y a beaucoup de médiums qui pourraient me permettre de nourrir ma démarche. Je pense par exemple à des outils, des dispositifs scientifiques qui finalement ne sont pas si loin de mes préoccupations.
Footnotes:
1 Jean-Baptiste Jeangène Vilmer : Animaux dans l'art contemporain : La question éthique Jeu. Revue de théâtre, Mars 2009
2 Florence Burgat, l'Animal dans les pratiques de consommation
3 Jacques Derrida, l'Animal que donc je suis
Showing posts with label Sarah Garzoni. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sarah Garzoni. Show all posts
February 23, 2011
February 14, 2011
Corps Étranger, Sarah Garzoni, Galerie Art Mûr By Greg Stone
Art Mûr
5826 rue St-Hubert
+1 514 933 0711
January 8th to February 26th
When I walk into the exhibit room for Corps Étranger at Galerie Art Mûr, I get the sensation that I'm seeing something I'm not supposed to see; that I found this place by accident and that if anyone found out I'd been here, they'd want an explanation. It's located at the very back of the gallery, after three other rooms full of unassuming paintings and photographs, right beside the freight elevator. So, because of this and mainly because of the content, I feel like I've stumbled into some mad-genius' attic full of botched experiments. Or remember the scene from Beauty and the Beast where Belle, ignoring the strong advice of the clock and the candlestick holder, tiptoes into the west wing of the Beast's castle and finds the enchanted rose? OK, I'm stretching it with that analogy, but really, this exhibit is riské. There's a tension in the room that could be finely sliced, but a personal curiosity that spreads like mayonnaise. I mean, it's taxidermy art.
The day I went to go see the exhibit at Galerie Art Mûr at 5826, Rue Saint-Hubert was the biggest blizzard the city had seen this year, so I bundled up and headed out (wait, didn't Belle brace a similar snow storm to get to the castle in the first place? Ok, ok, I'll drop it). When I get to Art Mûr, it provides the shelter from the storm I'm looking for. Well-lit with track lighting and staffy smiles, I chat quickly with an employee and no, the artist, Sarah Garzoni is no longer in Montreal. She's from Paris and went back last week but I can try to email her. I did try, but never heard back. Unfortunately. I had and have so many questions for her. But I did learn a couple things about her. I know that she is a visual artist who focuses on taxidermy and a connection between the human world and the natural world. Like I said, she's French, and she's young, only 29. Her website says that she has only been exhibiting since 2005. She studied art, mostly in Paris, but, there is a Canada connection; she also studied at OCAD in Toronto in 2007.
Corps Étranger isn't a big exhibition. In all, there are only 11 or so pieces. But it feels way bigger than that. It feels downright expansive. The first piece that got my attention, and will likely get yours, is the pig in the middle of the room. Taxidermied in mid-trot and titled Boudoir, this pig has gotten Ms. Garzoni a lot of attention, not just because it's so nicely stuffed, but because it's upholstered like a chesterfield. Ms. Garzoni punched buttons into its sides and back and connected them with seams. And it's shocking. Obviously, there's the statement about people making couches out of animal skins. For sure that's there. But the title is also revealing. A boudoir is a woman's bedroom and the word comes from the French verb bouder, to sulk. There are indications that Ms. Garzoni is targeting the human neurosis here. That people's own egos blind them from their habits and from ideas like the only difference between a stuffed, upholstered pig and a stuffed, upholstered leather couch is its form.
If Boudoir isn't the first piece you're drawn to, then it will likely be Mascarade. The tag on the wall lists the materials used to create it: a chicken, a rabbit, taxidermy materials, zipper. Ms. Garzoni took a rabbit, skinned it and put a zipper on it to make a tiny fur coat. Then she took a chicken, plucked it and taxidermied it to stand upright, and fitted it with the rabbit coat. It's Orwellian to an uncomfortable degree. And again, there's the obvious message about the de-naturalization of animals, and the ethics of fur but there's also this bigger question of neurosis. Fashion and clothing are things that cover us over. They can let you smother yourself with color and form. Not that this chicken is having neurosis problems, but there's no doubt that fashion, ego, and compulsion are becoming themes here.
Another focal point of this exhibit is Narcisse. Hommage à Isodore et Charles D. Using a taxidermied peacock grafted to a sewing machine, it presents the peacock sewing its own brilliant tail feathers. I really like this one a lot. In some ways, it's her most cynical piece. And it's just a really, really beautiful metaphor, both in how it literally looks and in how well the metaphor works. Narcissism. Proud as a peacock. It's almost mythological in nature; a peacock so in love with itself that it's punished to sew its own tail for eternity.
Another excellent piece is Breaching, a plastered corset lined with shark teeth on the inside. OK, I'm starting to hit you over the head with this narcissism thing, but I do really like how Ms. Garzoni uses animals to connect the gap between egos and the means of fulfilling them. And they can be judgmental, these animals. Like these shark teeth, the more you bite into your ego, the more these teeth bite back. And Boudoir, the pig. You can barely look him in the eyes. There's a lot of gravity involved with these pieces. Like I said, this exhibit's only 11 pieces, but it's dense.
Honourable mentions need to go out to a few other pieces. Mimésis, for example, is an assortment of real butterflies that Ms. Garzoni took, printed images onto their wings, and pinned them to a board. The images are usually corporate logos; there's a glimmering blue butterfly with the Playboy bunny logo on the tip of either wing, for example. Or the one with the Nike swoosh. Really great idea here, but maybe a little over-the-top, especially the one with the barcode. Rhéa is another beautifully delicate one. It's a stick-bug planted in a little flower pot like a tree with extra arms grafted on, and green-painted wings attached as leaves. The cherry for this one is the glass case it's under; a statement about ownership and human influence. And Homo-Faber, a Victorinox Swiss Army Brand Knife© with sterling silver insect parts for tools, acts in a similar manner.
Some people might say about this exhibit, 'Hey! Whadda? Where's PETA on this one? Where are all the animal rights activists?' And if they did say that, they would be wrong. They would be wrong because they didn't understand Ms. Garzoni's message. Because if this exhibit doesn't send a strong message about the proper treatment of animals, about the human exploitation of creatures, of the de-naturalization of animals, then I don't know what would. I once had a friend with a very big brain who, when we got on the topic of art, would say that the best thing that could happen to the Mona Lisa, and to art in general, would be for someone to walk into the Louvre, take the Mona Lisa by the frame and smash it. Of course, I thought he was full of shit. But I heard him out. He went on to say that when people go to see the Mona Lisa, they are certainly moved by it; that it elicits some emotions in them. But to what degree? Are people so moved by the Mona Lisa that they fall in love with art and are thus compelled to preserve all art forms? No, probably not. Are people really that stunned? I know that when I went to see Leonardo's masterpiece in Paris, I was underwhelmed. So, argues my friend, someone smashes it and the world erupts in response. Suddenly everybody and their dog feels more strongly about art than ever before. Stronger measures are put into place to protect our remaining masterpieces, and, more importantly, the Mona Lisa evokes the degree of emotion that its hype suggests (though a different type of emotion). I'm still not sure I agree with my friend. I mean, it's a pretty extreme example and a difficult idea to get on board with. However, you can't help but see this in Ms. Garzoni's work. Though instead of art being the beneficiary, she's doing it for animal rights. Actually, I don't want to say animal rights. That sounds too specific and wrong. She's doing it to show the complete lack of respect we have for anything non-human. And so when Ms. Garzoni upholsters a pig, she's destroying it. She's putting it in the last state we want to see it in. And when she prints corporate logos onto the wings of a butterfly, she's obliterating everything natural about them. Call it shock value if you want, but what she's doing is rattling raw emotion out of people, which happens too rarely in the art world. Or if it isn't rare, there are rarely artists who do it so powerfully, beautifully and poignantly as Ms. Garzoni has done with Corps Étranger.
Corps Étranger is on now at Galerie Art Mûr until February 26th. You should go see it.
5826 rue St-Hubert
+1 514 933 0711
January 8th to February 26th
When I walk into the exhibit room for Corps Étranger at Galerie Art Mûr, I get the sensation that I'm seeing something I'm not supposed to see; that I found this place by accident and that if anyone found out I'd been here, they'd want an explanation. It's located at the very back of the gallery, after three other rooms full of unassuming paintings and photographs, right beside the freight elevator. So, because of this and mainly because of the content, I feel like I've stumbled into some mad-genius' attic full of botched experiments. Or remember the scene from Beauty and the Beast where Belle, ignoring the strong advice of the clock and the candlestick holder, tiptoes into the west wing of the Beast's castle and finds the enchanted rose? OK, I'm stretching it with that analogy, but really, this exhibit is riské. There's a tension in the room that could be finely sliced, but a personal curiosity that spreads like mayonnaise. I mean, it's taxidermy art.
The day I went to go see the exhibit at Galerie Art Mûr at 5826, Rue Saint-Hubert was the biggest blizzard the city had seen this year, so I bundled up and headed out (wait, didn't Belle brace a similar snow storm to get to the castle in the first place? Ok, ok, I'll drop it). When I get to Art Mûr, it provides the shelter from the storm I'm looking for. Well-lit with track lighting and staffy smiles, I chat quickly with an employee and no, the artist, Sarah Garzoni is no longer in Montreal. She's from Paris and went back last week but I can try to email her. I did try, but never heard back. Unfortunately. I had and have so many questions for her. But I did learn a couple things about her. I know that she is a visual artist who focuses on taxidermy and a connection between the human world and the natural world. Like I said, she's French, and she's young, only 29. Her website says that she has only been exhibiting since 2005. She studied art, mostly in Paris, but, there is a Canada connection; she also studied at OCAD in Toronto in 2007.
Corps Étranger isn't a big exhibition. In all, there are only 11 or so pieces. But it feels way bigger than that. It feels downright expansive. The first piece that got my attention, and will likely get yours, is the pig in the middle of the room. Taxidermied in mid-trot and titled Boudoir, this pig has gotten Ms. Garzoni a lot of attention, not just because it's so nicely stuffed, but because it's upholstered like a chesterfield. Ms. Garzoni punched buttons into its sides and back and connected them with seams. And it's shocking. Obviously, there's the statement about people making couches out of animal skins. For sure that's there. But the title is also revealing. A boudoir is a woman's bedroom and the word comes from the French verb bouder, to sulk. There are indications that Ms. Garzoni is targeting the human neurosis here. That people's own egos blind them from their habits and from ideas like the only difference between a stuffed, upholstered pig and a stuffed, upholstered leather couch is its form.
 |
| Boudoir by Sarah Garzoni, Taxidermied Pig 110 x 61 x 31 cm, 2008 Photo Greg Stone |
 |
| Mascarade by Sarah Garzoni Taxidermied Chicken, Rabbit 62 x 24,5 x 29 cm, 2005 Photo Greg Stone |
If Boudoir isn't the first piece you're drawn to, then it will likely be Mascarade. The tag on the wall lists the materials used to create it: a chicken, a rabbit, taxidermy materials, zipper. Ms. Garzoni took a rabbit, skinned it and put a zipper on it to make a tiny fur coat. Then she took a chicken, plucked it and taxidermied it to stand upright, and fitted it with the rabbit coat. It's Orwellian to an uncomfortable degree. And again, there's the obvious message about the de-naturalization of animals, and the ethics of fur but there's also this bigger question of neurosis. Fashion and clothing are things that cover us over. They can let you smother yourself with color and form. Not that this chicken is having neurosis problems, but there's no doubt that fashion, ego, and compulsion are becoming themes here.
Another focal point of this exhibit is Narcisse. Hommage à Isodore et Charles D. Using a taxidermied peacock grafted to a sewing machine, it presents the peacock sewing its own brilliant tail feathers. I really like this one a lot. In some ways, it's her most cynical piece. And it's just a really, really beautiful metaphor, both in how it literally looks and in how well the metaphor works. Narcissism. Proud as a peacock. It's almost mythological in nature; a peacock so in love with itself that it's punished to sew its own tail for eternity.
 |
| Narcisse. Hommage à Isodore et Charles D. by Sarah Garzoni, Sewing machine, stuffed peacocks 95 x 74 x 86 cm, 2010 Photo Greg Stone |
 |
| Breaching by Sarah Garzoni, 19th century corset, plaster, wax, shark teeth, 2010 Photo Greg Stone |
Another excellent piece is Breaching, a plastered corset lined with shark teeth on the inside. OK, I'm starting to hit you over the head with this narcissism thing, but I do really like how Ms. Garzoni uses animals to connect the gap between egos and the means of fulfilling them. And they can be judgmental, these animals. Like these shark teeth, the more you bite into your ego, the more these teeth bite back. And Boudoir, the pig. You can barely look him in the eyes. There's a lot of gravity involved with these pieces. Like I said, this exhibit's only 11 pieces, but it's dense.
Honourable mentions need to go out to a few other pieces. Mimésis, for example, is an assortment of real butterflies that Ms. Garzoni took, printed images onto their wings, and pinned them to a board. The images are usually corporate logos; there's a glimmering blue butterfly with the Playboy bunny logo on the tip of either wing, for example. Or the one with the Nike swoosh. Really great idea here, but maybe a little over-the-top, especially the one with the barcode. Rhéa is another beautifully delicate one. It's a stick-bug planted in a little flower pot like a tree with extra arms grafted on, and green-painted wings attached as leaves. The cherry for this one is the glass case it's under; a statement about ownership and human influence. And Homo-Faber, a Victorinox Swiss Army Brand Knife© with sterling silver insect parts for tools, acts in a similar manner.
 |
| Homo-Faber by Sarah Garzoni, Silver Casting, 16 x 12,5 x 2 cm, 2006 Photo Greg Stone |
Some people might say about this exhibit, 'Hey! Whadda? Where's PETA on this one? Where are all the animal rights activists?' And if they did say that, they would be wrong. They would be wrong because they didn't understand Ms. Garzoni's message. Because if this exhibit doesn't send a strong message about the proper treatment of animals, about the human exploitation of creatures, of the de-naturalization of animals, then I don't know what would. I once had a friend with a very big brain who, when we got on the topic of art, would say that the best thing that could happen to the Mona Lisa, and to art in general, would be for someone to walk into the Louvre, take the Mona Lisa by the frame and smash it. Of course, I thought he was full of shit. But I heard him out. He went on to say that when people go to see the Mona Lisa, they are certainly moved by it; that it elicits some emotions in them. But to what degree? Are people so moved by the Mona Lisa that they fall in love with art and are thus compelled to preserve all art forms? No, probably not. Are people really that stunned? I know that when I went to see Leonardo's masterpiece in Paris, I was underwhelmed. So, argues my friend, someone smashes it and the world erupts in response. Suddenly everybody and their dog feels more strongly about art than ever before. Stronger measures are put into place to protect our remaining masterpieces, and, more importantly, the Mona Lisa evokes the degree of emotion that its hype suggests (though a different type of emotion). I'm still not sure I agree with my friend. I mean, it's a pretty extreme example and a difficult idea to get on board with. However, you can't help but see this in Ms. Garzoni's work. Though instead of art being the beneficiary, she's doing it for animal rights. Actually, I don't want to say animal rights. That sounds too specific and wrong. She's doing it to show the complete lack of respect we have for anything non-human. And so when Ms. Garzoni upholsters a pig, she's destroying it. She's putting it in the last state we want to see it in. And when she prints corporate logos onto the wings of a butterfly, she's obliterating everything natural about them. Call it shock value if you want, but what she's doing is rattling raw emotion out of people, which happens too rarely in the art world. Or if it isn't rare, there are rarely artists who do it so powerfully, beautifully and poignantly as Ms. Garzoni has done with Corps Étranger.
Corps Étranger is on now at Galerie Art Mûr until February 26th. You should go see it.
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