Adriana Tranca in conversation with Šejla Kamerić

(MOTHER IS A BITCH, pages: 5, 22, 145, 151)

Man’s World is born of Women’s bodies; the same bodies that Man
and his World relentlessly seek to subjugate, dominate, hunt and destroy.
Mother is a Bitch, isn’t she?
In true reclaim fashion, this conversation about witches, sex, self-determination,
about collective radical imagination, domesticity, drugs, capitalism, privacy, secre
cy, and ecology is not linear but circular, just as time is not linear but cyclical.

AT: Where is your body now, Šejla?
ŠK: In a spasm, in pain. It’s trying to free itself, to relax. It seeks
attention, but it also wants to be left alone. It is contradictory.
The body does not stand still. It fights, and it gives in.
It endures pain, and feels joy. Never in one place and never accepted.
(The answer was written at 2 a.m., in bed in Sarajevo.)
AT: Your body, and, by extrapolation, our female bodies,
occupy the walls of the gallery. The photographs in
the exhibition are impressive, both in size and content.
You seem to play with contradictory dynamics: quasy-naked
and vulnerable, but also monumental and commanding.
What do you see when you look at them, at the images
and the women they represent?
ŠK: I see womankind but also mankind. The duality. The sexuality.
Advertising and ideology. The need to know, to learn. A different approach
to our well-being. A hidden history of women that I want to uncover.
I see and show a woman. I show what is hidden behind, what is covered,
disguised, decorated, and made up. I show what stands in the corner facing the wall.
Erratic and emotional. Irrational. Romantic and tragic. Daring. Funny. Hysterical.
Different perspectives.
Without them, we find ourselves in linear time, in a trajectory that does not
move us forward or reflect an individual’s true state of mind.
I see and want to show self-acceptance.
AT: A woman and a broom, a tandem that has already been absorbed by
pop culture and implies the presence of a witch. Could you please share
some of your research and knowledge on the subject?
ŠK: This theme is woven into every woman. It is, in fact,
an inherited trauma that we carry within us. We are taught
to live with a certain knowledge of survival. The beginning
of the research was not clearly defined. I focused on myself.
I read A History of Sexual Customs (1958) by Richard Lewin
sohn and before that The History of Sexuality (1976) by Michel
Foucault. Both books were written by men just as history is
written by the victors. The women were burned so that the
books on sexuality could be written by men. But back to the
broom—I got interested in how the broom is mentioned,
or not mentioned in the books. Not only in the writings
of Foucault and Lewinsohn on the history of sexuality, but in
others as well. In those written long before, and those dealing
directly with “witches.” The books Malleus Maleficarum [The
Hammer of Witches], the theological work of the Dominicans
Heinrich Institoris and Jacob Sprenger, published in 1486,
and the Compendium Maleficarum written by Francesco
Maria Guazzo, published 1608, are indeed instructions
on how to hate women.
And yes, everything always has to do with and goes back to sexuality.
The broom is a symbol, but also a practical object in
the household. It is handy. Before it becomes a magical
object to transport and fly, it is static. A woman must
first ride a broom. While she is riding, she is levitating.
When a woman flies, she is sinful. She must be burned.
The woman is naked, of course. She wears a skirt
and no underwear. Once again, women wear a skirt
and no underwear. Why do women wear a skirt?
With a broom = Why like that?
Why is everything the way it is?
When you ask questions, you begin to understand. That’s
the moment you start screaming, calling out for your mother
and asking over and over … OHHHH, mother, why? Why is
everything that the way it is? Why was I born a woman?
Why do witches ride brooms?

—

AT: It’s endlessly fascinating. I also love that women
are witches and men are sorcerers; even in this situation
where magic is considered heretical, there’s still a sexist
approach. The fact that you mention that men write about
sexuality as if they know everything makes me think of
the history of hysteria and misogyny in science. To take
this even further, revolutionary biologist Lynn Margulis,
who argued that life is a result of symbiosis rather than
random mutations in a male-driven war of survival of the
fittest (to put it very simply), was long challenged and
rejected by her male colleagues before the world realized
the implications of her findings.
Today, her theories are widely considered to have pioneered the modern
renaissance in the study of free-living cells. In an interview, Margulis said:
“Gaia is a tough bitch.” ¹ I am curious about the relationship between tough
and bitch in your own artistic language.
ŠK: Toughness is resistance and at the same time ability to adapt.
The ability to survive and overcome. It is acceptance, adaptation,
and determination. It is true courage. And it could also be a
pragmatic decision.
The Bitch is a courageous one.
She carries, gives birth, creates by nature.
My artistic language may stem from the struggle to survive
and the need to create. I grew up in circumstances
that made me tougher and more loving.
Being a “tough bitch” is a female predisposition.
So is motherhood, empathy, and again, the need to create.
I want to evolve, learn and understand myself while
appreciating the process of creation. All this while trying
to build a symbiotic relationship and not collapse under
parasites. Being an artist and a mother means you keep on
giving while accepting that fulfilment and joy come with
struggle and pain. That is what I do and who I am, who I
try to be. That’s a toughness I can identify with.
That could be my artistic language and approach.
Or at least that’s what I am aiming for.
Your question made me think of the series Hooked (2010–) and an essay by Edi Muka
“The Voice of the Shuttle Revisited.”

—

AT: Arguably, the concept of the secret is
probably more of a woman’s thing. Female
genitalia have long been a secret, largely, of
course, because of the lack of interest in the
male scientific world (it was not until 2005
that Australian urologist Helen O’Connell
revealed the full anatomy of the clitoris). Or
the fact that women had to meet in secret to
perform secret rituals and discuss secret topics.
Do secrets play a role in your artistic practice?
ŠK: I enjoy secrets and admire their
power. They are everywhere and in
everyone. But a crucial undertaking is
to distinguish between what is forcibly
restricted and what is intentionally not
revealed. My work Rose Garden (2022)
is an example of this.
Secrecy leads me to think of privacy and pleasure.
Focusing on inner privacy or resolute interiority brings pleasure in mystery.
Beauty and freedom in something unknown.
The act of creating art can be seen as a revelation, uncovering hidden
truths by giving birth to new mysteries.

—

AT: There are voices calling for the abolition of woman as a political subject, as an identity.
Do you think we are ready for this step?
ŠK: Not at all, but how and why we should not generalize. I think it’s
about the size of the steps that individuals can take. Each position is
significant and complex. It is important that there is movement and
hope, and the possibility of imagining a different, better, harmonized
world. It would be great to see a fundamental change in the perception
of gender. I agree with Judith Butler on many issues, so I can repeat:
“Gender IS Trouble.”
My works Unknown (2019), Embarazada (2017) or We Come with a Bow (2019) deal
with these issues. But in my recent series of works, Oh, Mother, Oh, Father (2022),
Firstborn but a Girl, and My Mother Calls Me Son, Not Sun (both 2023) I address
these issues with pain and uncertainty. On one hand, we continue to intellectualize,
but how exactly can we resist the political populism that is pushing us back.
It is absolutely frightening to see the rise of a politics that feels the need to control
women’s bodies. The increase in domestic violence during the pandemic lockdowns
is just further evidence of the true state of affairs. Let us hope that politics that promote
gender neutrality can help prevent femicide and female foeticide.
AT: Following the lead of feminist thinker adrienne maree brown,
do you find pleasure in your activism?
ŠK: Yes, it makes me feel connected, awake, aware, and emphatetic. It’s like fuel:
being engaged makes you emotional and, above all, alive. Still, it would be nice to
live a life that requires less political and social engagement … I can well imagine
living by the sea, detached from the polluted society and in sync with nature … but …
… escapism is subversion and a political act.
AT: The works feel strangely forbidden, and I think that’s because they have a rebellious
quality that hints at a possible dark future. It’s an intuition I have, and I value intuition
immensely. I made a radical commitment to intuition a long time ago, even though it is
marginalized by patriarchal discourse, like many other feminine processes of knowledge
production. It’s like a secret that all women have: we never talk about it, but we know that
we base many decisions on it.
So I wonder, who are you reading, with whom are YOU making radical alliances?

¹Lynn Margulis, “Gaia Is a Tough Bitch” in The Third Culture: Beyond the Scientific Revolution, ed. John Brockman (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1995), 129-151.