This series was inspired by Rupi Kaur’s writing workshop on free writing
Dear Louise Bourgeois,
I’ve been dying to invite you to my dinner table - where it will be just the two of us within a humble kitchen. We would feast on stories about memories of heartbreak, grief and family conflict while enjoying the food magically prepared before us.
Whether it’d be a letter, an email or a video introduction, I have always wanted to write to you in many ways. Whenever I come across the trivial question “Who would you like to have dinner with?” without a doubt, you would always be the very first guest.
I became engrossed with your works after coming across Cells: Glass Balls and Hand during my year eight excursion. While the docent politely explained the backdrop to the installation, a part of me was curious to realise the conclusion to story - was it a happy ending? Or nothing gets resolved towards the end? It would be many years later that I realise that these installations were snapshots of conflicted emotions that can never be fully understood. Having said, I don’t know which part of the artwork was more arresting: the pair of hands praying in despair? Or was it the rusted cage that has been instructed to remain dusty to deter the audience away? The work against the pale white backdrop made the installation almost too intimate yet inviting for wondering eyes to peek through. I don’t think I could ever forget that feeling when I laid eyes on the artwork.
Being introduced to cells introduced me to another world of art. Somehow, it opened more avenues of contemporary art, and I was consuming more and more artworks carried a similar tone. I slowly allowed myself to empathise with other contemporary artists (even if it was a display of a speeding ticket); gradually accepting different forms of art that bordered between artistic expression or political conflicts. While opening many doors, I still kept your artworks as a constant reference. These were always found embedded between pages of my folio or for writing practice for contemporary art analysis. There was never a moment where I would not acknowledge the impact your visions have on the way I present my work.
Regrettably, I left many of my other favourite artists behind when I was introduced to other art and design movements. It would be until the third year into my studies that I rediscovered your name. From seeing Christiane Meyer-Thoss’s book titled ‘Louise Bourgeois’ at Serpentine Art Gallery shop to rushing to seeing a room dedicated to you at Tate Art Gallery - my excitement was ignited once more. Coupled with a newfound discovery of the accessibility of online retail, my bookshelf at home was gradually filled by accounts of other author’s interpretations of your accomplishments. I believe it is safe to say, I am a big fan of your thoughts.
My cousin once asked me ‘why her?’ when I stated your name as one of my favourite artists. Perhaps because I was already drawn to the melancholy; or the level of relatability when I hear the word ‘revenge’ being a source of inspiration, or how each subject expressed fear of uncertainty. The mixture of bitterness, sadness and joy is displayed chaotically - and it is impossible to ignore.
I was once asked who my favourite architect was… Because of the Cells, or because you collaborated with Peter Zumthor on the Steilneset Memorial, it cemented my reasoning that you are my favourite artist and designer. To me, you will always be a great architect of emotions, and I hope I could incorporate a similar technique in which the audience could incorporate their feelings with their surroundings in a bittersweet manner.
There is so much I want to share with you. For instance, how I’ve dreamt about working as your art assistant while I was in high school; or having the opportunity to visit your studio and listen to your tough-love advice that you claim to provide to your assistant. While that opportunity no longer exists today, maybe I will collaborate with you by being the next curator of your artworks. I hope that I can display them in a narrative, unlike the ones that have been placed on display.
Or perhaps, somewhere, someday, we will be sharing the same dining table, eagerly sharing our ideas on what to collaborate on next.
I look forward to that day.
Yours sincerely,
Kimberley
2 July 2020