"How Janine Antoni Simultaneously Disturbs and Delights" by Nicole Kaack

Janine Antoni’s hands descend over the eyes of a creamy-colored bust to the sound of water pouring from a faucet. Bubbles froth at the sculpture’s chin and twinkle from grooves between sculpted strands of hair. She caresses the immobile features, then turns the statue to face her. In this 2003 video, little of the artist herself can be seen: A sliver of bare leg presses against the white enamel of a bathtub; her quick hands studiously encircle the simulated cartilage of the bust’s outer ear as she uses the tips of her thumbs to excavate soap from the concha. Then, it cuts to Antoni seated in her studio, her features the same as those of the bust. 

“For me, [this work is] about that conflict, that kind of love/hate relationship we have with our physical appearance,” she says. “And, really, the problem I have of looking in the mirror and thinking, ‘Is that who I am?’” Another cut reveals a chocolate version of the same statue. 

The footage, which originally appeared in an Art21 feature, captures Antoni remaking a bust from Lick and Lather (1993), an installation commissioned for that year’s Venice Biennale that encompasses 14 busts mimicking neoclassical marbles, seven made from chocolate and seven from soap. Cast from a mold of the artist’s head and chest, the sculptures’ features wear away as the artist gently washes and devours her own effigy, an erasure accomplished through apparent acts of tenderness. The piece—now her best known—has been remade on a few occasions due to the intense responses it invites; during the Biennale, a young woman licked and bit some works’ noses off in an inadvertent collaboration. While nonconsensual, the girl’s gesture was not far from Antoni’s own response to the art that then dominated museums. 

Read full article at artnews.com/art-in-america.