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Lot Essay
Fischl's works are charged with suspense; it is this psychological tension that drives the artist's work and peaks his audience's interest. In Slumber Party, we as viewers are privy to a world of secret thoughts. Fischl's paintings are like stills from films; moments lifted out of plots and sequences. In this particular scene, the artist has captured a moment where a young boy is preparing to sleep in the room of a woman who one assumes is a housekeeper or the maid. His sleeping bag is laid out on the floor, implying that he is not sleeping with her, and yet she is undressing so the tension of sex is in the air. A reoccurring theme in Fischl's work is the isolation and sexual awareness of puberty in relation to the adult world which still lies outside the adolescent range of experience, but to which access is gained in the encounter with sexuality as a rite of passage. As is evident in Slumber Party this voyeuristic situation already constitutes a certain loss of innocence. In addition as in most of Fischl's work there is always the chance for the young boy to relinquish the role of observer and become a participant, a privy party, and possibly a victim.
What is interesting in this image is that the boy appears to be more preoccupied by finding the right channel on the television than in the woman who is taking her underwear off. Fischl explains, "The objects that surround my work are objects that extended perception: the telephone, binoculars, a Walkman, a television . . . I have mixed feelings about those objects. You rely heavily on them, and at the same time they're alienating devices. You're actually listening to something that's not there. You decontextualize yourself. You're hearing stuff that's not where you are. TV blends into the room situations and events that don't take place in that room." (E. Fischl quoted in Eric Fischl, Amsterdam, 1991, p. 130). The TV set participates and mirrors; it fills rooms with coded messages and rays. The television measures by its presence the void between the people and it's fragmented, palely flickering stream of images provides a metaphorical description of the insubstantiality of emotions and relationships.
In an interview with Robert Enright, Fischl explains his use of the fetishistic statue in this particular work: "I grew up in an environment where every house I went to had some object that was foreign. Something bought at the airport, a Japanese scroll, a little Chinese carved ivory knickknack, or a Caribbean doll. In some ways it was meant to represent worldiness, but what it really highlighted was the smallness of their own reality set against this object they didn't really know anything about. Years later, when I was searching for a way to represent this, I remembered everybody had these objects and nobody knew what the hell they meant." (E. Fischl quoted in Eric Fischl, 1970-2000, New York, 2000, p. 68). The multilimbed fetish standing on the TV casts an ominous shadow on the wall. The television becomes this object that alters the lighting in the room and creates a magic. The object itself is decontextualized, so in a way it is powerless. The fetish requires the artifical light of the television to reanimate it. Because the object is multiarmed, it also stands for the sexual body, which in effect grows another limb.
It is this vision that Fischl's work is best known for. The viewer is rendered suspicious of every gesture, pose and attitude of figures whose environment appears altogether serene. Robert Enright explains, "There are times in looking at his [Fischl's] work when you feel you are less a viewer than a private investigator, wondering about the motivations and actions of the characters in the paintings. What you end up activating is something like a forensic gaze. While the paintings aren't exactly crime scenes, they do seem to be places where damage has either been done or is about to be done. This is a painted world where an observant and critical questioning is a necessary attitude." (R. Enright quoted in Eric Fischl, 1970-2000, New York, 2000, p. 66).
What is interesting in this image is that the boy appears to be more preoccupied by finding the right channel on the television than in the woman who is taking her underwear off. Fischl explains, "The objects that surround my work are objects that extended perception: the telephone, binoculars, a Walkman, a television . . . I have mixed feelings about those objects. You rely heavily on them, and at the same time they're alienating devices. You're actually listening to something that's not there. You decontextualize yourself. You're hearing stuff that's not where you are. TV blends into the room situations and events that don't take place in that room." (E. Fischl quoted in Eric Fischl, Amsterdam, 1991, p. 130). The TV set participates and mirrors; it fills rooms with coded messages and rays. The television measures by its presence the void between the people and it's fragmented, palely flickering stream of images provides a metaphorical description of the insubstantiality of emotions and relationships.
In an interview with Robert Enright, Fischl explains his use of the fetishistic statue in this particular work: "I grew up in an environment where every house I went to had some object that was foreign. Something bought at the airport, a Japanese scroll, a little Chinese carved ivory knickknack, or a Caribbean doll. In some ways it was meant to represent worldiness, but what it really highlighted was the smallness of their own reality set against this object they didn't really know anything about. Years later, when I was searching for a way to represent this, I remembered everybody had these objects and nobody knew what the hell they meant." (E. Fischl quoted in Eric Fischl, 1970-2000, New York, 2000, p. 68). The multilimbed fetish standing on the TV casts an ominous shadow on the wall. The television becomes this object that alters the lighting in the room and creates a magic. The object itself is decontextualized, so in a way it is powerless. The fetish requires the artifical light of the television to reanimate it. Because the object is multiarmed, it also stands for the sexual body, which in effect grows another limb.
It is this vision that Fischl's work is best known for. The viewer is rendered suspicious of every gesture, pose and attitude of figures whose environment appears altogether serene. Robert Enright explains, "There are times in looking at his [Fischl's] work when you feel you are less a viewer than a private investigator, wondering about the motivations and actions of the characters in the paintings. What you end up activating is something like a forensic gaze. While the paintings aren't exactly crime scenes, they do seem to be places where damage has either been done or is about to be done. This is a painted world where an observant and critical questioning is a necessary attitude." (R. Enright quoted in Eric Fischl, 1970-2000, New York, 2000, p. 66).