Despite worldwide cancellations, French artist Lucile Littot remained busy in 2020, holding her first solo show with Los Angeles’ Night Gallery titled _It would be very glamorous to be reincarnated as a great big ring on Liz Taylor’s finger_. The mythology-inspired show of new sculptures from the artist deals with Hollywood archetypes, kitsch, glamor, culture, and more while injecting a bit of humor.
Read below for a conversation with Lucile Littot and Bernard Marcadé at Littot’s home-studio in Mexico City, photographed by Angela Suárez.
**Bernard Marcadé: Your life, and thus your art, remain strongly influenced by your trips away from your comfort zone (France). What is the meaning of this to you?**
Lucile Littot: As a preamble to your question, dear Bernard, I’d like to quote the flamboyant Faye Dunaway: “Fear is a pair of handcuffs in your soul. You are not an extra in somebody else’s film. You are the star in your own life.”
My pieces, which I see as the remains of talismans, invoke and remit to personal stories concealed by film, literary, art history or magical references. These amulets survey various emotional states of mind, encompass different bodies subjected to distinctive emotions that are afterwards brought to light and then settled in fixed matter, thus recreating the idea of a novelesque autobiography.
Throughout the cities where I choose to reside, I find my inspiration, or rather a creative obsession, drawing from their myths and legends. At the moment, I live in Mexico City, whose macabre dimension reminds me of Naples. It’s a place of extreme violence, which contrasts with sublime poetry. It’s a little like inhabiting certain paragraphs of the novel _The Skin_ by Malaparte. Haunted by colonialism, revolutions and past and current corruption, I sometimes feel myself walking over ghosts shrouded in bloody halos, in order to access the enchanting Onirism that is so unique in this baroque country. I mean “baroque” as a command for creation.
Los Angeles is my favorite, one of my cities of choice. I lived there for three years and paid tribute to it last September in my solo show at Night Gallery. The city somehow mirrors my first name, in a simultaneously glamorous and Gothic way, and also the stories that I tell through my work. For “Lucile” hovers, etymologically, between the devil and the light.
To me, it alludes both to the romantic and tragic muse of _Les Chants de Maldoror_ and to the sequined suits, high pompadours and iconic sways of Little Richard.
But I’m not going to lie to you, I also travel to enrich my collection of slippers and night robes, stolen from 5-star hotels, and quench this fetishistic thirst. My favorites are those of the Beverly Hills Hotel and the Grand Hôtel et des Palmes in Palermo. It makes me almost as happy as that 3-day walk through the Peruvian mountains before catching sight of an unclouded Machu Picchu at dawn. An ecstatic feeling and tears of joy.
**B.M.: What a nice cartography indeed! Beautiful, flamboyant, baroque, glamourous. Those are the adjectives that you like using and that also describe your works, which belong to anything but a monotonous universe, and that are infused with the most divergent intensities, both formally (nothing ever stops you) and referentially (from Malaparte to Lautréamont, by way of Raymond Roussel, Madame de Pompadour and Little Richard…). How do you experience these “divergences”?**
L.L.: I experience them. A little like Mozart’s ambiguous laugh in _Amadeus_ by Milos Forman, in which the colors of the wigs announce the states of mind. A carnal partition between the lowest and highest notes. Everything must be theatrical, otherwise I’m easily bored. My work, love, sunsets, everything! And this of course also leads me to great disappointment and deep melancholy.
I remember a pretty funny thing that Neïl Beloufa told me in our conversation during the Fondation Ricard award event: “Actually, you’re something like the Courtney Love of contemporary art!” A big compliment! Even though I see myself more as a Lana Del Rey ;)
What’s true is that I have an undying passion for women with character. I canonize them in my painting, in my art. I have great admiration for Béatrice Dalle, for instance, with whom I would love to collaborate in an upcoming project.
**B.M.: Painting, sculpture, ceramics, performance, video: in your work, no medium seems out of favor… And in this, too, you refrain yourself from getting confined to a single formal and material ideology. In this flow of visual experimentation, painting seems to be particularly significant?**
L.L.: Painting holds a climactic importance in the hierarchical organization of my work; it’s like a queen mother around which the other media proliferate but may also reveal themselves in an autonomous way and become independent pieces. I find a different kind of satisfaction in each one of my practices. The way I paint is like a brutal, liberating exorcism. With porcelain, there is a more sensual approach; I crush it, knead it, caress it and gild it afterwards. It’s more time-demanding because the firings are longer, and I use three-phase firings. At the studio I always feel a little like that puppeteer in the Olympia scene of _The Tales of Hoffemann_, dreaming of bringing his dolls to life. There is a lot of magic involved in the ceramics process: the color-changing enamel after firing, gold turning into an ochre, rusty hue… And, of course, the pleasure of opening your kiln and listening to the blistering pieces clink like gemstones. Performance and video are slightly different ways of expression since they allow for more straight forward interactions with each audience. In the films I’ve made, I love seeing characters coming to life and becoming clones of my paintings or my porcelain dolls. These roles are actually often played by friends of mine. I appreciate parody, there’s a sort of excitement reminiscent of childhood feelings that is brought back through disguise, cross-dressing and the thrill of being in somebody else’s skin.
**B.M.: Your references are essentially pictorial, but also cinematographical (hence, your Mexican-Hollywoodian tropism). You are, in fact, unashamed of your admirations (going from highbrow culture to more popular, if not “vulgar” and “kitsch” forms). What are the paintings and films that matter the most to you?**
L.L.: I don’t know why, but I would like to begin my answer with these words uttered by Fanny Ardant in _Pédale Douce_: “I hate hunting. I’ve been a pro-abortion activist. I am in favor of plastic surgery. Fanaticism makes me mad. I love Picasso! I have a hard time in apartments where nothing has changed for a hundred years other than electrical power, and I’d rather have dinner in the company of transvestites than cockroaches!” ;)))
I’m crazy about cinema, so it’s a very hard question since I watch a lot of movies… I’m going to choose eight hits, randomly, since it’s my lucky number: _Barry Lyndon_ (Kubrick), _All About My Mother_ (Almodóvar), _Juliet of the Spirits_ (Fellini), _The Secret of Veronika Voss_ (Fassbinder), _Ludwig_ or _The Damned_ (Visconti), _Belle de Jour_ (Buñuel), _Marie Antoinette_ (Sofia Coppola) (oh, a woman at last!), _Ecstasy of the Angels_ (Wakamatsu). And I must add _Peau d’âne_ by Jacques Demy! I don’t know if you remember that when we first met, you gave me a re-edition of the movie’s poster at Potemkine, because you knew it’s one of the films that have inspired me the most! The poster still proudly hangs in my Parisian apartment. I like Albert Serra, Bong Joon-ho and Yórgos Lánthimos very much, as far as present-day filmmakers are concerned. I saw _The Favourite_ alone in a theater in Mexico and was laughing all along - I think people thought it was weird! In fact I love comedies, the Farrelly brothers always crack me up. I also am passionate about Dario Argento’s and Brian De Palma’s Mannerist cinema. A morbid fascination, perhaps… I realized that many of the films I liked featured the word “Death” in the title: _The Death of Maria Malibran_ (Schroeter), _Death in Venice_ (Visconti), _Death Becomes Her_ (Zemeckis)... And it’s pretty much the same for painting, everything is rather gloomy… Francisco De Goya, Francis Bacon, Caravaggio, María Izquierdo, Paula Rego, Mariam Cahn, Chris Ofili, Jutta Koether, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Vincent Van Gogh, Leonora Carrington, Otto Dix, Rita Ackermann… Painting has to make me feel something at first sight… it has to be visceral! I need goosebumps and to see the soul laid bare, otherwise I walk away… But since I’m fond of this thing with the number eight, here are the eight works I’d love to possess: _Young Woman with Unicorn_ (Raphael), _Orphan Girl at Cemetery_ (Delacroix), _Guitar Lesson_ (Balthus), _Œdipus and the Sphinx_ (Moreau), _The Two Fridas_ (Kahlo), _Piano without a Pianist (_Galán), _The Straw Manikin_ (Goya), _Burial of St. Lucy_ (Caravaggio)… And well, Louise Bourgeois, Greer Lankton, Karen Kilimnik and Mike Kelley are among my favorites as well.
**B.M.: A nice playlist indeed, made out of pile-ups, distorsions and excesses that come together in what I would call a “glam genealogy” (GG). There are few women in this playlist, as you said so yourself… However, your work is as feminine as it gets, not to say feminist, or even, I dare say, female… Where do you place yourself in this galaxy: femme-feminine-feminist-female?**
L.L.: I eagerly accept the “female” term, just like Booba raps: “Mon camp c'est le règne animal, là où il n'y a plus de gens J'veux aller plus haut que le sommet de la montagne là où il n'y a plus de vent.”; and as many of my friends are well aware, I have the same love for animals as I do for human beings.
I grew up in a pretty eccentric household, where dogs, cats, so-called miniature pigs and parrots took naps on the Persian rug and were allowed to have crêpes for dinner. The house in the South, at my grandparents’, had walls covered with my grandfather’s 70’s erotica-style paintings, and was the perfect playground for the development of my future performances. I got in disguise and put make-up on with my grandmother’s YSL clothes, and the animals were also given costumes. The anthropomorphic scenes that inhabit my paintings are an evident tribute to those surrealistic memories.
But as a means to contradict Victor Hugo’s thoughts on the female woman, I have absolutely no desire for motherhood and don’t want any children. A certain sensitivity led me very young to develop an interest in occultism. I devoured the writings of Eliphas Lévi and hypnosis took me to unconscious worlds that enabled me to no longer be afraid of some of the things I learned. I actually remember one of those very French curators who mocked me during one of my speeches. Vete a la verga! ...as they say in Mexico!
So are you The Love Witch? Are you a bad Bitch or are you a good Witch?
We now come to the myth of the witch woman. The animal woman. That may be the answer to your first question. Why did I flee from Parisian conformity and down-to-earth snobbery? So I could inhabit the authentic erotic-esoteric settings of Kenneth Anger’s films in California, or practice white magic with an experienced Mexican shaman, and give free rein to my imagination and my magnified femininity. To the voice of angels! But beware, just let one hair be cut by a wicked sorcerer and you become an offering to the Santa Muerte, dear Bernard!
Still, what’s also true is that these places where I chose to live are made of purely patriarchal fantasies. I remember this article in the Mexican press that showed two mutilated female bodies in the Juárez desert. It explained very simply that the severed heads and the way the prostitutes’ genitals were arranged every day announced cartel members if the drug cargo had arrived or not. And Hollywood! An inexhaustible cliché, a cartoonish town, a sham between fiction and reality founded upon neurotic aesthetic values. Where women portray standard patterns written for the male desire. I think my notion of feminism is embodied in my work, by depicting strong women. Because the femme fatale, the Lolita, the star in decay all channel vibrations and pain far more profound and poetic than in their stereotypical doll roles. I think that one of my inspirations of “typical profiles” is Jeanne Moreau as Jacky in _Bay of Angels_. A ludopath with platinum hair and lavish garments, in love with _la grande vie_ and luxury resorts who makes this sublime statement by the Riviera: “If I loved money, I wouldn’t squander it! It’s precisely what I like in gambling, this idiotic existence made of luxury and poverty but also of mystery, the mystery of numbers, of chance.” I’m interested in depicting lyricism in desires of freedom, in passion and the _folie des grandeurs_, the escapisms of conformity, losing your mind or rebelling, a proscribed romanticism against the norms of life by which a woman is expected to abide.
Something like a candle lit as a homage to wounded souls, my transcribed visions are those of these ghost women. Renowned and unknown. And just like in the Egyptian Valley of the Queens, once they find themselves in the realm of the dead, they are divinized, both in body and soul.
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**B.M.: What I find particularly striking in your perspective, is that you dazzlingly bypass all the binary dichotomies that structure art and morale: femininity/masculinity, art/craftsmanship. highbrow/lowbrow, good taste/bad taste, noble/vile, natural/artificial, etc… You’ve chosen not to address art in a comfortable way. Each exhibition seems like a challenge to you, an adventure that diverts, unsettles, baffles categories… How do you make your way out of such a mess unscathed?**
L.L.: I’ve decided to live my life as a baroque heroin. But it’s like speeding along the Pacific Coast highway in a convertible, scarf in the wind, music blasting; it’s dangerous, but the view is so gorgeous! My installations ooze with that feeling, it’s autobiographical, but most of all what’s great in being an artist is that you get to reinvent all of it. We are our own muse, and all fantasies are allowed.
So yeah, sometimes the excess of make-up flakes down my face, but a minute later the sun is out again! So I take out my black Versace shades, and my best outfit to go have a coffee around the corner, and that’s all there is to it.
Life and art are emotional rollercoasters. And the state of the world is sad enough as it is, so let’s have fun while we still can!
And like Jean Cocteau said it once: only poet(esse)s remain immortal.
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