Minutes into my conversation with Sabrina Bockler, she avidly referenced the “Tulip Mania” of the Dutch Golden Age and I knew I was in for something quite special. Bockler is that rare artist who can reflect on some of the most heralded eras of still-life and then perceptively discover a new avenue for research and interpretation. Her own work is a rich homage, dense with symbolism and recalling the great female painters of nearly 600 years ago as she allocates space for them in her own paintings. Her new solo show at Hashimoto Contemporary opens this July in New York City, a city of its own Dutch connections and history, as well as a rich appreciation for the classics.
Evan Pricco: I was thinking of a show you had in London last year, Menagerie, and some of the research you did for it. One of the things you cited for this show was the creation of still-lifes, especially in connection with women artists of the 15th century, as well as the inspiration of 17th-century Dutch rococo artist Rachel Ruysch. I want to know a bit about what was surprising in your research.
Sabrina Bockler: I’m always surprised that Rachel Ruysch isn’t more of a household name. She was such a heavy hitter for her time. I find it interesting to know that her works sold for more than Rembrandt’s during their lifetimes—an impressive feat for a female artist of the 17th century. You can see a vast knowledge of botany in her works. Beyond that, there’s so much vibrance and movement in her still life paintings that I find inspiring. My research also led me to the “Tulip Mania” of the Dutch Golden Age. There was certainly a flower craze as new species of plants traveled around European markets. The wildly inflated cost of tulips made them a status symbol of the time. Tulips are so common today that you would hardly pay attention to them, but they were such a prominent feature in Dutch Golden Era still life. The way they are painted feels like a dance to me. It’s beautiful.
How did you take that research back to your own still-lifes?
For my show Menagerie, I focused on still life as an homage to female artists of the past and their limitations in accessing subject matter. I used to paint portraits years ago, and transitioning into still life forced me to reckon with the challenge of creating dynamic works and expression without relying on the human figure to convey emotion. I have found a way around it, with animals in place of the human figure, granting them emotion and agency, in a way, activating the paintings.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/qu3ENfioh1716206755364/6711711177.jpg]
There’s a language within my work that references the past while connecting it to the present. Symbolism of gender, love, lust, class, and even death is woven throughout. I love the idea of the elements conversing from within. Something as innocuous as a fig can symbolize lust, sensuality, or abundance and prosperity.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/qu3ENfioh1716206755364/6177716617.jpg]
Much of the last two shows in London, as well as the one in 2023 in Montreal, tackle and examine a historic view of “women’s work,” but there is also this really keen insight into what I think we can all call “over-abundance,” our need to stuff and to overstuff. I’m wondering if your research sort of suggested that some of the women painters you reference from past centuries were sort of playing with the idea that their “role” was to create an environment of over-abundance, as if they had to maintain the home or preserve it as a fantasy world for themselves or for others.
I focus a lot on domestic identity, issues around class and gender, and human intervention with nature. There’s a sense of hand-holding with the past while bringing these ideas into a more contemporary context. It’s interesting to look back to the 15th—17th centuries and feel how foreign they were, yet some experiences and struggles for women’s autonomy remain relevant today. Domestic spaces are commonly perceived as female domains—the homemaker or housewife. I think about how childcare and domestic servitude are societal expectations for women rather than being considered meaningful labor and thus grossly undervalued. The coexistence of the home and fantasy can be thrilling. Women painters of the past managed to achieve a lot with very little access to subject matter as they broke through gender barriers.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/qu3ENfioh1716206755364/1177177111.jpg]
The idea of hoarding opulence also interests me. There was a real dominance of religious and mythological themes, as well as paintings of nobility, in classical art. Artists needed to follow the money, as that was the source of patronage. I feel that we missed out on many stories and nuanced perspectives because of this. Paintings were representations of status and, in many ways, still are. My work holds a mirror to this kind of over-consumption, taking more than we need, intervening in the natural order. The thirst for wealth is never-ending, and the consequences of this attitude pose a very present threat in our current climate.
Would you say that mischief is part of your process?
Definitely. There is often a power struggle in my paintings—a tug of war between poised curation and the untamed attitudes of the subjects. There’s a lot of naughty behavior and funny moments sprinkled throughout. I frequently use purebred dogs as these agents of chaos or as my primary figures. They are such an interesting representation of human intervention. We’ve manufactured some dog breeds to the point of deformity...
Evan Pricco: I was thinking of a show you had in London last year, Menagerie, and some of the research you did for it. One of the things you cited for this show was the creation of still-lifes, especially in connection with women artists of the 15th century, as well as the inspiration of 17th-century Dutch rococo artist Rachel Ruysch. I want to know a bit about what was surprising in your research.
Sabrina Bockler: I’m always surprised that Rachel Ruysch isn’t more of a household name. She was such a heavy hitter for her time. I find it interesting to know that her works sold for more than Rembrandt’s during their lifetimes—an impressive feat for a female artist of the 17th century. You can see a vast knowledge of botany in her works. Beyond that, there’s so much vibrance and movement in her still life paintings that I find inspiring. My research also led me to the “Tulip Mania” of the Dutch Golden Age. There was certainly a flower craze as new species of plants traveled around European markets. The wildly inflated cost of tulips made them a status symbol of the time. Tulips are so common today that you would hardly pay attention to them, but they were such a prominent feature in Dutch Golden Era still life. The way they are painted feels like a dance to me. It’s beautiful.
How did you take that research back to your own still-lifes?
For my show Menagerie, I focused on still life as an homage to female artists of the past and their limitations in accessing subject matter. I used to paint portraits years ago, and transitioning into still life forced me to reckon with the challenge of creating dynamic works and expression without relying on the human figure to convey emotion. I have found a way around it, with animals in place of the human figure, granting them emotion and agency, in a way, activating the paintings.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/qu3ENfioh1716206755364/6711711177.jpg]
There’s a language within my work that references the past while connecting it to the present. Symbolism of gender, love, lust, class, and even death is woven throughout. I love the idea of the elements conversing from within. Something as innocuous as a fig can symbolize lust, sensuality, or abundance and prosperity.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/qu3ENfioh1716206755364/6177716617.jpg]
Much of the last two shows in London, as well as the one in 2023 in Montreal, tackle and examine a historic view of “women’s work,” but there is also this really keen insight into what I think we can all call “over-abundance,” our need to stuff and to overstuff. I’m wondering if your research sort of suggested that some of the women painters you reference from past centuries were sort of playing with the idea that their “role” was to create an environment of over-abundance, as if they had to maintain the home or preserve it as a fantasy world for themselves or for others.
I focus a lot on domestic identity, issues around class and gender, and human intervention with nature. There’s a sense of hand-holding with the past while bringing these ideas into a more contemporary context. It’s interesting to look back to the 15th—17th centuries and feel how foreign they were, yet some experiences and struggles for women’s autonomy remain relevant today. Domestic spaces are commonly perceived as female domains—the homemaker or housewife. I think about how childcare and domestic servitude are societal expectations for women rather than being considered meaningful labor and thus grossly undervalued. The coexistence of the home and fantasy can be thrilling. Women painters of the past managed to achieve a lot with very little access to subject matter as they broke through gender barriers.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/qu3ENfioh1716206755364/1177177111.jpg]
The idea of hoarding opulence also interests me. There was a real dominance of religious and mythological themes, as well as paintings of nobility, in classical art. Artists needed to follow the money, as that was the source of patronage. I feel that we missed out on many stories and nuanced perspectives because of this. Paintings were representations of status and, in many ways, still are. My work holds a mirror to this kind of over-consumption, taking more than we need, intervening in the natural order. The thirst for wealth is never-ending, and the consequences of this attitude pose a very present threat in our current climate.
Would you say that mischief is part of your process?
Definitely. There is often a power struggle in my paintings—a tug of war between poised curation and the untamed attitudes of the subjects. There’s a lot of naughty behavior and funny moments sprinkled throughout. I frequently use purebred dogs as these agents of chaos or as my primary figures. They are such an interesting representation of human intervention. We’ve manufactured some dog breeds to the point of deformity...
You're reading a preview of
Juxtapoz (Digital) - 1 Issue, Summer 2024