Tracey Emin - Why I Never Became A Dancer, 1995

Tracey Emin: Why I Never Became a Dancer, 1995 from MOCA North Miami on Vimeo.

I watched this short film by Tracey Emin at the Turner Contemporary, Margate recently. I will write about the exhibition Self in more detail in a later post. The show pulled together a number of artists in order to comment on the self portrait:

'In a world where 'selfies' have become everyday expressions and ‘Britishness’ is being redefined, what is the role of self-portraiture and how has it shifted through the history of art to the present day?' Turner Contemporary (2015).

I wanted to comment on this particular piece of work because of the deep affect it had on me at the time. Before I'd even seen the film I could hear Emin's voice, if not her words, from a concealed video booth in a corner of the gallery. I'd wandered around the exhibition, looking at various pieces, and every six minutes or so Emin would stop and the silence would be filled with the exuberance of a 1970s Disco track. 'You Make Me Feel, (Mighty Real) by the performer Sylvester, is one of my favourite songs. In the pristine whiteness of the Turner Contemporary, the pounding disco beat and the soaring synthesiser rhythms felt even more potent. I almost wanted the lights to dim and see mirror balls descend from the ceiling - Emin's video piece commanded the room.

By the time I entered the booth and sat down to watch the short film I already had the track firmly embedded in my head. The film appeared to be a scratchy old Super 8 visual of Margate, recorded during a long gone summer. The camera panned up and down the seafront, showing the beach, the clock tower, the arcades and promenade. The narrative that I'd only heard in faint snatches earlier described how, as a teenager, Emin had indulged in under age sex with older guys - and what a life experience that had been for her. How, as she matured, but still being young, realised that she had outgrown Margate and looking for a way out had entered a national disco dance contest. The very same men that she'd had sexual encounters with earlier in her life stood at the edge of the crowd and chanted "slag" over and over during her performance - ruining her chances of winning and escaping Margate. Emin fled the event in tears and the experience made her realise that she was better than all of them. She was definitely leaving now and nothing was going to stop her.

In the last section of the film Emin calls out the men's names and shames them, declaring "This ones for you!" The music begins, the disco beat and Sylvester's voice sucking me in. The visual changes to what looks like an open space in a gallery or high end apartment, with a glass wall overlooking a London skyline. Emin dances around the empty space, recreating the moves she never got to finish in a pair of cut down jeans - enjoying the moment, knowing that she had overcome, she had escaped, and those guys, probably still back in Margate in dead end jobs were nothing to her.

Is this a piece of revenge art? It could considered so. It is also often life affirming and cathartic for an artist to create such a piece and slay past demons. I know how that feels. It is also a piece of self portraiture that uses historical context that provides insight into Emin's character. A book I've read recently about the psychology of human group mentality made me also look at this piece of work from another perspective. Looking at identity I find it interesting how Emin's description of the failed disco dancer at the hands of misogynistic men, fits so well with the concept of group mentalities. Emin may have wanted to adopt the identity of 'Disco Dancer' but she also needed the approval of this identity from other groups for it to stick. The 'Patriarchal Male' Group weren't prepared to accept this, preferring to cast her in the role of 'Slag' instead.

The book is true on this point. The individual does not have full control over their identity - it is something to be negotiated by the individual and everyone around them. We can try on identities to see how they fit but we don't necessarily get to keep them. The 'Disco Dancer' identity was not a success for Emin. Fortunately with the passage of time and growth in confidence - along with artistic success - Emin is able to re-assert a new identity. This time Emin is a member of the group 'Successful Artist'. I wonder what identities those men now inhabit?

This piece of work, like most of Emin's other pieces, are founded in her own life experience. Emin uses memory and emotion to investigate and make art. This artistic practice has been used by many other artists too. Photographers Nan Goldin, Larry Sultan and Richard Billingham have all plumbed the depths of personal experience to make their art. As a student I'm finding my own way down this particular path. Sometimes a piece of work that I make may seem fairly obscure or light-hearted. But there is also an essence of me in there somewhere. Maybe not as heart on sleeve as Emin's 'Why I Never Became A Dancer'. But there  is always a sub narrative in my work that speaks of the personal experience of childhood loneliness, parental indifference, rejection and growing up as an outsider. It would be tiresome to approach and re-work the same subjects over and over. So I change the viewpoint. Look from a different perspective. Delve into fantasy - but the themes are there all the same.