The Contemporary Post-modernism of Cindy Sherman

Contemporary Art isn’t necessarily a clearly designated style or period, but more a marker of the end to the Modernist Era. It is the term used in relation to art of any medium either currently being produced or produced since the Post-Pop Art movement of the the 1960s. One of the most prominent styles that emerged within Contemporary Art is Postmodernism. As a resistance to the motifs and goals of Modernism. Postmodernist artists endeavoured to surpass the limitations of Modernism by examining cultural codes, politics and social ideologies within their own contexts. Artists, designers and architects such as Dara Birnbaum, Philip Johnston and Jeff Koons led the way exemplifying a stylistic eclecticism, colliding art with kitsch and appropriating styles and techniques perfected by earlier movements that Modernism shunned. They reflect upon the past whilst embracing new and contemporary mediums; many artists welcoming new media and technology piggy-backing on its ability to reach new, far-flung audiences, some delving into new realms of mixed media and found art. Postmodernists thrive on the theory that there are no new cultural innovations to come, and all one can do is flick back through the history books in order to re-imagine art and the world into something new.

Feminist artists took to Postmodernism, adeptly, and often jarringly, using the visual richness of its varying styles to make a point. One such artist is one, Cindy Sherman, her career spanning over three decades. Her chosen medium, photography, has allowed her to caricaturise feminine stereotypes by chameleonising herself into varying female archetypes.

“She’s a Hitchcock heroine, a busty Monroe, an abuse victim, a terrified centrefold, a corpse, a Caravaggio, a Botticelli, a mutilated hermaphrodite sex doll, a man in a balaclava, a surgically-enhanced Hamptons type, a cowgirl, a desperate clown, and we’ve barely started.” (Hattenstone, 2011)

Although Sherman features in all of her photographs herself her work is in no way a self-portraiture. She invented her own genre by making a mockery of the phrase ‘The camera never lies’, using slight deceits of make up and mise en scene to draw out the truth about the vulnerability and power that lies in the roles that women are forced to adopt. Throughout her career Sherman has been wading through a tide of contradiction. One minute she was being described as a leading feminist artist and the next she found herself at odds with feminist critiques. Sherman’s work fell under the judgement of many with her release of the ‘Centrefold Series’ (1981). While the commissioning magazine refused to publish the photographs, the shock value of the work rapidly elevated her name in the art world. It became evident that the more controversy a piece created the more money it could go for. The ‘Centrefold Series’ was a step on from her earlier work, moving into a “more intimate relationship between her and the camera” (Sussler, 1985) shape shifting her characters into something more raw, exposed and emotive. Her earlier works appearing more like caricatures in comparison.

It was with ‘Untitled Film Stills’ (1977-1980) that she first gained vast attention and grounded her self-morphing style, in a kaleidoscopic investigation into personal and societal identity. This series of faux-cinema stills drew a nostalgic inspiration from old Hollywood glamour shots of heroines and femme fatales to invent extraordinarily vivid scenes of films that never existed. She revealed in the “theatrics of camera vision”, (Hoban, 2012) thoroughly intrigued by the power images had to reflect the viewer in their own eyes and command how they viewed themselves. The series consists of sixty-seven black and white photographs, each image left ambiguously untitled. In the beginning, Sherman gathered and dressed her own apartment in her belongings, sometimes borrowing items from friends and family, hoarding it all into intricate sets. She later moved on to shooting in her boyfriend, Robert Longo’s Long Island beach house, and outdoors around different areas of New York City. She would manipulate her own image into new representations over and over. In 1980 she finally completed the series, claiming to have run out of cliches to mimic.

Cindy Sherman’s collective works have “influenced the way generations of artists think about photography, portraiture, narrative and identity”. (Hoban, 2012) By inventing her own genre of sorts she has embodied the spirit of contemporary art in proving that there is still more originality to find, but done so in a truly postmodernist fashion in using tools of the past to do it. Once more showcasing an endearing contradiction.

“Few artists embrace their contradictions so easily”. (Hattenstone, 2011)

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Untitled Film Still #17 1978, reprinted 1998 by Cindy Sherman born 1954

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Bibliography

Baker, K, (2012), Cindy Sherman: Interview with a Chameleon.Walker Magazine

Available from: http://www.walkerart.org/magazine/2012/cindy-sherman-walker-art-center (Accessed: 30/11/15)

 

Hattenstone, S, (2011), Cindy Sherman: Me, Myself and I. The Guardian

Available from: http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2011/jan/15/cindy-sherman-interview (Accessed: 01/12/15)

 

Hoban, P, (2012), The Cindy Sherman Effect. Art News

Available from: http://www.artnews.com/2012/02/14/the-cindy-sherman-effect/

(Accessed: 30/11/15)

 

Sussler, B, (1985), Cindy Sherman by Betsy Sussler. BOMB Magazine

Available from: http://bombmagazine.org/article/638/cindy-sherman

(Accessed: 30/11/15)

Drills, Thrills and Frills; The Social and Technological Development of Tattoo Artistry.

Over the past quarter-century the world has been enjoying a ‘Tattoo Renaissance’. (Rubin, 1988. pg. 233) Developments of single needle techniques, an extension of colour palettes, a refinement of technique and equipment and a social relocation of the practice have all been gradually evolving since the introduction of the electric tattooing machine in 1890. Furthermore, escalating since the tattoo’s resurgence of popularity in the 1960’s. The technological developments in the field during this time have changed how these indelible designs are viewed in relation to the art world at large, as well as how society views the tattooed masses.

Tattooing is a universal and age-old phenomenon” (Caplin, 2000. pg.17)

The ancient art of tattooing has led a colourful and episodic life. Cases of ‘marked’ men and women have been uncovered across the globe. Evidence of tattoos have been found on Egyptian mummies from 21,000 BC. The tattooed ‘Ice Man’ that was discovered in the Alto Adige in Sep 1991 dates back to as far as 32,000 – 33,000 BC. Various pieces of Greek artwork depict women with markings on their arms and legs. Ample evidence of ‘barbarian’ nations, the old tribes of Scotland for instance, adorning tattoos has been uncovered. In fact this is thought to be the reason that Scottish warriors famously wore very little wearing clothing, as to show off their decorated bodies. (Caplin, 2000. pg.6) And the ancient tattoo cultures of nations like New Zealand, Japan, India and Africa are still alive today, and considered a venerable art form.

The stigma that still lingers around tattoos in today’s society was born in the ancient cultures of Greece and the Roman Empire. In fact, the word itself is derived from Greek and Roman texts that referred to body-marking with the term ‘stigma’, which has incidentally passed into modern English adopting a meaning of ‘mark of infamy’ or ‘moral blot’. (Caplin, 2000. pg.1) In Ancient Greek artwork women who chose to mark their skin were commonly depicted as maenads, the mad women who were said to have murdered Orpheus and danced in erratic ecstasy at festivals for Dionysus. Little information has been found about the functions of tattoos in archaic societies, but one role it is clear to have played is as a symbol of social status. Tattoos were often used to mark a slave; as a farmer might brand his livestock, a master would mark a slave as his and therefore never to be granted freedom, be it from servitude or class. In the Roman Empire tattooing was used as a punishment or threat. It was not so much the pain or risk of infection that was so intimidating but the stigmatic consequences.

the various experiences of disgrace, humiliation and exclusion that were consequences of having one’s criminal nature indelibly written on one’s face” (Caplin, 2000. pg.23)

During the seventeenth century Britain began to transport their convicts to Australia, tattooing them with indelible identity tags. Over 115 convicts had their initials and some indication of their crimes inscribed onto their bodies. Later in the nineteenth century tattoos began to appeal to people who felt different or found themselves unwilling, if not just unable, to fit in; groups with a sense of “otherness.” Such groups gravitated towards the circus scene and heavily tattooed bodies grew to be a common sight at Freak-Shows, alongside Bearded Ladies, Dwarves and performers with deformities. The higher classes showed an ambivalent attitude towards tattoos, they may have attended and admired the show but they ultimately looked down upon the seedy, deviants that chose such a life. A deep-seated cultural view that has filtered down to the present day public, and attributing tattoos with a kind of strange double nature; the power to both affront and attract.

Despite the consistent ill feeling towards tattoos, the idea that it’s appeal is ingrained in human nature is inescapable. Perhaps it is that at our core there is a captivation with the body and a longing to express ourselves, that spurred ancient civilizations with no contact between one another to perform the same act of piercing the skin to create aesthetic markings. The technology of the past’s instruments may have been crude and primitive but they had the potential to create a wide range of patterns and pictorial designs regardless. The process involved using extremely sharpened animal or fish bones, bamboo slivers, shell fragments or thorns with a stone like a chisel to puncture the flesh in order to insert pigments that would become a permanent stained scar on the body. (Cohen, 1994. pg.215) The elaborate, illustrative compositions of the Japanese were developed by means of clustering up to forty needles together, and the Maori refined specialised uhi, or chisel-like, tools from albatross bones attached to a wooden handle for their ‘Moko’ tattoos. The method of pricking the skin by hand evolved to using sewing needles, but more or less remained the same until the electric tattooing machine was invented by artist Samuel F. O’Reilly in the late nineteenth century.

It not only accelerated the process and diminished the pain involved, often with the use of anaesthetic, but it facilitated greater detail in the line, colouring and shading of the art work itself. The new ease of the process triggered a surge in popularity for tattooing; an article in the Tatler in 1903 entitled “The Gentle Art of Tattooing” described the practice as a “gentle art” and “the height of fashionability.” (Caplin, 2000) The machine owes its design to the rotary mechanism of the sewing machine, much like Thomas Edison’s Auto-graphic Printer and Electric Stencil Pen. Both of these devices were designed to engrave on hard surfaces such as metal, but O’Reilly’s modifications increased and softened the stroke of the machine making it safe to use on skin, as well as making it faster. (Rubin, 1988) Just as the public showed a greater interest in acquiring tattoos, young artists also flocked to tattoo studios to take up apprenticeships, and learn from the masters. The culture and community involved in tattoo artistry steadily grew, accumulating knowledge and techniques that expedited developments of the tattooing machine, playfully nicknamed the tattoo gun in allusion to its appearance.

Commercial tattoo machines have been available by mail order since O’Reilly’s time, but recent professional tattoo artists are in the habit of building their machines to their own personal preferences, with individual improvements being added constantly. The basic operation of a rotating machine is an electric motor that drives the needle forward and retracts it by means of a spring. Modern rotator machine’s needles puncture the skin 1,000 to 3,000 times a minute (as shown in the video below), and can penetrate less than a quarter of a millimetre; just enough to ensure permanence without causing excess pain. (Cohen, 1994. pg.215) Most contemporary tattooists operate with two machines. One with 2-4 needles for small details and outlining, and another containing 6-12 needles for filling colour and shading. The most common machine used today is the Coil tattoo machine that employs an electromagnetic circuit to move the needle array up and down, and are available in a wide range, from single coiled machines to triple helix machines. Tattoo artistry has never stood so close to the precipice of artistic or technological perfection.

We are witnesses to a tattoo revival. We see bodies emblazoned with them everywhere, it seems, in our media-saturated society.” (Caplin, 2000. pg.17)

According to tattoo artist and theorist Arnold Rubin, for the past quarter-century the West has been enjoying a ‘tattoo renaissance’. We’ve entered an age when tattoo artists receive professional art training before taking up studio apprenticeships and in turn the quality of art and service has never been better. Increasing communication between tattoo artists and a rise in positive culture surrounding the medium facilitated an increase in mail order suppliers, newsletters and conventions which allowed artists to pool their knowledge and trade secrets. ‘Flash Sheets’ of the past are progressively discarded in order for the artist to specialize on large-scale custom designs geared towards the clients specifications, and because a tattoo artist could begin to take pride in their own creations they could also recognise and apprise one another’s work. The industry came together as a kind of informal guild to share technical and trade secrets, while also construct a uniform ethical and hygienic standard of regulations to help overturn some of the strict laws against the practice of tattooing that arose in the 1930’s, and prevent unsafe practices from opperating.

Tattoo artists have developed a highly professional process that has removed much of the stigma surrounding the industry. They can unhesitatingly respond to client’s questions, handle and adjust the tattooing equipment with routine ease, prepare of the area to be tattooed in a relaxing and matter-of-fact manner. Ultimately it is the tattooist’s professional skill that attest to his right to control the interaction.

The tattooist’s ability to guide the interaction with the client is further supported by his overt display of technical skill and knowledge.” (Rubin, 1988. pg.220)

The service that a tattoo artist provides has come to be for many a cathartic or therapeutic experience that allows the client to alter their personal definition of their body, and occasionally double as a cosmetic surgery alternative by covering up unwanted birthmarks, hiding scars and even filling in un-pigmented areas of skin. The venerable art dedicated to skin deep beauty’s uniqueness lies in the canvas it chooses; a living, breathing being that can think and move at will, that can give something of their own life force to the artwork. This essence cannot be reproduced. The tattoo may be photographed but the still image will never be able to exhibit the life and movement of the original. One would hope that the public and art world at large will continue to appreciate and develop the practice for its unique potential, and work towards the eradication of its lingering stigma. When you really think about it, the main argument against tattoos and age-old adage ‘tattoos last forever’ is inherently wrong.

tattoos last only as long as the body endures which is to say not as long as ink on paper.” (Caplin, 2000. pg.66)

For an art form as old as humanity, tattoo artistry has been considerably slow to evolve, but this is due to the old techniques being effective enough that for centuries it did not need to be improved. After all if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it right? But with innovations being made at an accelerating rate within the past few decades, one has to question where it is going? It’s come out recently that a group of French design students have adapted a 3D printer that could make tattoo artists completely obsolete. (McRae, 2014) Could the technological future of tattooing eventually then  remove the artist entirely? Artists are already using computer programmes to create their designs, perhaps the true artistry of tattooing is doomed to become, like hand pricking techniques, a vintage or old-fashioned practice?


1. Caplin, J. (2000) Writen on the Body, New Jersey, Princeton University Press

2. Cohen, T. (1994) The Tattoo, Sydney, Adrian Savvas Publishing

3. McRae, M. (2014) Technology Takes Tattoos into the Future. ASME.org Available at: https://www.asme.org/engineering-topics/articles/design/technology-takes-tattoos-into-future

4. Rubin, A. (1988) Marks of Civilization, California, Regents of the University of California.

The Draw of the Rabbit Hole; An Inspection of the Creative Mind’s Affiliation with Alice In Wonderland.

alice-in-front-of-rabbit-hole Any number of timeless stories have made their mark on film, art, or culture. The tale of Elizabeth and Darcy has been re-enacted on screen after screen, Greek mythologies have been brought to life in every form of art and the sentiments of cult classics like ‘Animal Farm’ 1945 have echoed across a multitude of generations. ‘Alice in Wonderland’ 1865 is one of the elusive few that has succeeded in impacting across the board. The secret of its popularity lies in the unexpected familiarity of Alice’s obscure, surrealist dreamland, and the wealth of strange characters that inhabit it. It is unsurprising that artists and writers have been compelled to create their own interpretations of Wonderland and surely the most memorable translation of which in the past century is Walt Disney’s. But what is it that made this story so appealing to the animated movie mogul and artists alike?

It is no secret that Carroll had a connection to the art scene of his time visiting theatres and galleries regularly; famously befriending members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood who shared an interest in themes of dreams and innocence. The Victorian art world had a fascination with the child-figure, normally as a symbol of innocence, but also mainly due to the fact that the level of infant mortality was so high that the notion of childhood took on a precarious nature. Many wealthy parents would take any opportunity to commission portraits of their children, as to immortalise them in a way. Carroll in his literature was no different and his masterpiece initially began life as a simple present for three daughters of a friend, one of whom was the inspiration for the character of Alice. As the stories were being primed for publication Carroll employed the illustrative talents of John Tenniel, a cartoonist for Punch magazine, as he felt the work of an experienced illustrator would support the text with visual expression. With the visual aid of Tenniel’s illustrations Alice’s adventures captivated the minds of artists for decades to come. The question the caterpillar poses, “Who are you?” is echoed in every art form and movement.

“Artists who overly cite the visual imagery of [Carroll’s] book establish a relationship between their work and his texts, triggering associations, appealing to the viewers’ powers of recollection and inviting them to read the work through the lens of the literary source.” (Delahunty and Schulz, 2011)

Memory as a topic is a running central theme of the Alice books, connecting memory to the construction of identity.  In the century that followed the Surrealist movement was the first to really be influenced by Alice. They saw Carroll as

“Surrealist avant a lettre, an artistic predecessor and soul mate, whose literary worlds and characters seemed to prefigure many of their own anti-rationalist perspectives. (Delahunty and Schulz, 2011)

British Surrealists were playfully given the nickname ‘Children of Alice’ due to their fondness of recreating Carroll’s favourite themes. Much like the works of Surrealists, Alice’s world does not allow itself to be constrained by the laws of nature or reason. In Wonderland she experiences an intermingling and distortion of time and space, a theme that is perhaps most recognisably Surrealist due to Dali’s famous melting clock painting ‘The Persistence of Memory’, 1931. Another particularly Surrealist connection and tactic favoured by Giorgio de Chirico, is misuse of everyday items. In ‘Through the Looking-glass’ 1871 Alice comes across amusingly anatomically confused creatures like rocking-horse flies and bread and butter flies. All dislocation of meaning in Wonderland is natural to us as it is facilitated by Alice’s dream state.

The Alice books are admired in many ways, but most of all for succeeding in resembling the true course of a dream, in all it’s inconsistencies, aimless eccentricities. The fashion in which things that Alice encounters in waking life are reflected with exaggeration in her dreamland is a common occurrence in our own dreams. Wonderland obeys no conventional material rules but transforms itself constantly into something else, through a kind of nightmarishly innocent logic. Although Alice’s dreams are nonsense, they are a natural kind of nonsense that we can all relate to our own nonsense. It’s a free-form reflection of the inner-workings of a collective imagination and somehow makes sense to us because in its own chaotic way Wonderland reflects how we all feel and view the real world. There’s something comforting, yet invigorating in the reflection of ourselves and our surroundings that we find in Wonderland; a feat that every artist without exception aims to imbue in their work.

Similarly, artists have for centuries been searching for some way of capturing that elusive “spark of life” in their work.

“For some presumptuous reason, man feels the need to create something of his own that appears to be living, that has an inner strength, a vitality, a separate identity – something that speaks out with authority – a creation that gives the illusion of life.” (Thomas and Johnston, 1981)

Innovations in photographic technology in the late 1800’s allows the possibility of animation to be born; an art form that could capture that spark in a figure’s slightest movement or expression. Here was a medium for the comic artist to create their own depictions, allowing them to satirize, caricature or humourise any person, place or thing they set their mind to. The bright and colourful new world was their oyster. For,

“Just as the stained glass window had brought dazzling brilliance after centuries of relatively dull frescoes, the introduction of light behind the film made whole new ranges of colour available to the artist.” (Thomas and Johnston, 1981)

Enter Walt Disney in the 1920’s, with his first official foray into film and animation, a series of Alice Comedies, with a young actress, Virginia Davis playing a real life Alice travelling through a graphic cartoon world. As the studio evolved it developed a unique kind of style, the secret behind which is in equal parts a constant innovation of new technologies and the ability to communicate emotion. The Disney studios employ hundreds of artists to work at different stages of the animation. Hand-drawn and painted characters on celluloid paper are filmed over watercolour backgrounds from above by what was dubbed The Master Camera. A contraption formulated within the studio made up levels that could move independently, allowing the characters and background to convey depth. It is undoubtably the exquisite hand painted detail and irresistible “spark of life” in every frame of the classic Disney films that make up that distinct visual style. Combining a good narrative with the beautiful work of his artists created films that an audience just couldn’t look away from.

Walt Disney spent decades searching for the right style, and narrative structure for ‘Alice in Wonderland’ and he finally reached a point where he was happy with it in the late 1940’s thanks to the style that concept artist Mary Blair proposed. Blair tended to work in flat, bold and bright colours with interesting shapes and warped perspectives so Alice was almost tailor-made for her. Disney deduced that the narrative structuring problems could be resolved by injecting a musical or rhythmical momentum. Thus, the music and visual style of Alice needed to go hand in hand, and so the animators and composers set out to have them engage with one another, allowing flowers to sing and spider webs to twang. The artists became so detail oriented that they enlisted the actress, Kathryn Beaumont, into performing live action scenes as inspiration for Alice’s movement and form. Ed Wynn, who played the Mad Hatter, joined her to enact the tea party scene. He wound up including unwritten actions that the animators loved and added immediately. One particular system of the old Disney studio that is more evident in ‘Alice in Wonderland’ than any other film of its time is its directorship. The film was broken down into sections, each directed by a different person and ultimately one can recognise the transition from one man’s vision to another’s; granted this aids the story’s fractured, dreamlike quality.

The most classic Disney films resonate and have a habit of becoming part of our collective consciousness, you’d be hard pushed to find someone today that could not recount what substance helps the medicine go down or sing you a very, very unbirthday. Often Alice in Wonderland is dismissed, firstly for not being one of the great Disney narratives; in other words a Monomyth and secondly for falling short of Disney’s expectations for its success upon original release. The studio’s biggest challenge for Alice was coming up with a concrete plan of how to shape the film, not only because of how inconsistent the storyline of the source material is but also for how much there is to it. On the other hand, Disney films normally adhere to the structure of the Monomyth, or Hero’s Journey. A theory that all great myths or stories follow the same patterns, published by writer and mythologist Joseph Campbell in ‘The Hero With a Thousand Faces’ in 1949. A copy of Campbell’s book began to circulate about the Disney offices leading to one of the studio’s head scriptwriters, Christopher Volger, writing up a seven page company memo titled ‘A Practical Guide to The Hero With a Thousand Faces’. In his memo he claims that with the analytical tools provided a writer can shape a dramatic, entertaining and psychologically sound story around any situation.

“With them you can always determine what’s wrong with a story that’s floundering, and you can find a better solution to almost any story problem by examining the pattern laid out in the book.” (Volger)

It is perhaps Disney’s recognition of the effectiveness of the monomyth that draws the studio of particular types of stories; namely fairy tales. ‘Alice in Wonderland’, 1951, could be called an unconventional monomyth, it doesn’t necessarily comply to the twelve stages Volger outlines but it does feature much of them in its own distorted, surreal style. Due to the haphazard nature of the dream scape of Wonderland, the Disney writers couldn’t fit the storyline into the monomythic pattern, and as a consequence were at a loss where to begin preparing it for the screen. 

Composition by David Hall An artist called David Hall put together a storyboard of artwork drawing from Tenniel’s works in the late 1930’s. His designs were considered almost grotesque in their dark, over detailed nature, but many of Hall’s Tenniel inspired shot compositions made it into the 1951 film;and ultimately, what anchored Alice into a story an animator could visualise was the original woodblock illustrations that Tenniel provided. Mary Blair may have set the colouring and style for the film, but the mise-en-scene of each frame still calls back to the illustrations. The composition of particular scenes mirror those in the books. The scene in which Alice grows too big for the White Rabbit’s house, for instance, is a prime example. Tenniel details Alice’s limbs escaping out the window and door, with her head bowed against the ceiling, a pose that is mimicked distinctly in Disney’s film. Furthermore, animators on the film pulled their character designs directly from the illustrations.

“Alice figures are recognisable by virtue of their clothing.” (Delahunty and Schulz, 2011)

The character designs that Tenniel devised have stood the test of time. Alice’s blue dress and white pinafore have acted as a signifier for artists alluding to Carroll for so long that Disney’s animators had no choice but to dress her in such a way. And all of the Wonderland residents like The Mad Hatter, March Hare and Cheshire Cat are even rounded out, rosy cheeked versions of Tenniel’s creations. 

Has Disney subsequently then succeeded in taking the characters directly from the page and giving them the illusion life? Or one could argue that Carroll and Tenniel were successful in creating characters that are so alive that artists are drawn to them by a desire to do the same in their own work.


1. Cavalier, S (2011), The World History of Animation. London, Aurum Press Ltd.

2. Delahunty, G. and Schulz, C. (2011) Alice in Wonderland Through The Visual Arts. Liverpool, Tate Publishing.

3. Earle, W. (1987), A Surrealism of the Movies. Chicago, Precedent Publishing, Inc.

4. Feild, R. D. (1944), The Art of Walt Disney. London, Collins.

5. Thomas, F. and Johnston, O. (1981) Disney Animation The Illusion of Life. New York, Abbeville Press.

6. Volger, C. (n/a) A Practical Guide to The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell. http://www.cs.uu.nl/docs/vakken/b2go/literature/monomyth.pdf