Louise Bourgeois, extreme tension via all the luck in the world
Louise Bourgeois, self portrait 2009 via all the luck in the world
Louise Bourgeois, The Insomnia Drawings, 2000
(Source: mythologyofblue)
Louise Bourgeois, Tracy Emin, Do not Abandon Me, via Hauser & Wirth
Louise Bourgeois, Tracey Ermin, Deep inside my heart, 2009–2010
Archival dyes printed on cloth via Hauser & Wirth
Louise Bourgeois Ode à L’Oubli, 2004 (detail – page 4)
Fabric and color lithograph book, thirty-six pages via might be good via scott tennent
Louise Bourgeois at the Freud Museum, A loose sheet in English, circa 1962 via
—Louise Bourgeois, “Eugénie Grandet”, 2009. Matériaux mélangés sur tissu, suite de 16. Détail: verre et fil sur tissu 28.5 x 21.5 x .6 cm. Courtesy Cheim & Read, Hauser & Wirth and Galerie Karsten Greve. Photo: Christopher Burke ©Adagp, Paris 2010.
From the exhibition “Louise Bourgeois: Moi, Eugénie Grandet”, at the Maison de Balzac, Paris. More info: press dossier & images here and here.
This show was instigated by Bourgeois herself, who suggested to the Maison de Balzac that she create an exhibition of works based on Balzac’s novel Eugénie Grandet, whose main character she had always identified with as the “prototype of a woman unable to fulfill herself… the prisoner of her father, who needed a maid.”
(…)
In the basement, a group of simple needlework pieces adorned with dried flowers, tacks, hooks and eyes, buttons, etc. – many of which form clock faces – testify to monotony of such a woman’s life. Other pieces offer chilling quotations from Eugénie Grandet in embroidery, among them “My mother was right: suffer and die.”
—Heidi Ellison, in Paris Update, 14 Dec 2010.
The Grandet series, properly speaking, consists of 16 small items of embroidery. The choice of technique is a clear reference to women confined to needlework, as a way of spending or idling away their time. But the word “embroidery” is inadequate to describe something that is both a reliquary of sorts and an exercise in recycling. Bourgeois has attached artificial flowers, pins and buttons to rectangular pieces of grey or white fabric, evoking pressed flowers, a withered bouquet on a grave or perhaps some distant memory. Another piece suggests a clock, the silk thread sketching out its hands.
—Philippe Dagen, in The Guardian, 4 Jan 2011. (via A Piece of Monologue)
“Ode à Eugénie Grandet,” by Louise Bourgeois (fragment):
The telephone may be out of order
The door bell may be broken
Has the mail man come?
I have spent my life making openwork pulling threads for the bed sheets and table clothes
I have spent my life making a trousseau
I who has never been trussed up
I give humour
not pity
I am not stupid I am only unhappy
fearful foolish a washer woman
I have spent my life washing socks
and handkerchiefs.
(via flasd)