MONSTER CHETWYND

Since 2018 she has been known as Monster Chetwynd, but she has also been called Spartacus Chetwynd, more or less from her debut in 2006 until 2013, to later become Marvin Gaye Chetwynd from 2013 to 2018. And then to transform her identity as a woman artist into a disconcerting  succession of masks, a repertoire of characters of the opposite sex, behind which to barricade herself and draw attention. These are all names of famous, authoritative, domineering men, involved in a role play in which genres are inverted and roles are switched, transformed or meant to deceive like on the stage of a Shakespearean comedy. Besides, how can we deny that that’s the way the world turns: the muscles of a gladiator or a hero in a contemporary version of a Greek tragedy have allowed her, a young female artist, to be taken more seriously. Peculiar, isn’t it? However, the decision well introduces the complexity of Monster, born Alalia Chetwynd in London in 1973. The daughter of an authoritative and authoritarian parent, a captain of the Royal Navy of noble origins, and of an Oscar-winning production-designer like the cosmopolitan Italian-born Luciana Arrighi, she has never lost — actually, it has grown in time — her taste for the liberty to be, to express herself, and to have fun, thus metabolizing onerous étant donnés. And enough to transform the stories of society, culture, and art into a surreal and visionary theater of creatures, a disturbing and yet playful world, altered in scale and clearly imaginary, that grabs you and floors you because of the sensitivity, the fragility, and the fleetingness of the materials used, as well as the underlying love and consideration for nature and the environment. That of Monster is a magic touch: like in a fairy tale, it can change the face and value of things, transforming the work of art into a fresh, extemporaneous catharsis, a uniquely fanciful way to represent and to self-represent poised between performance and sculpture, installations and disguises.

We met and spoke from a distance on FaceTime. She was in Corsica on the beach and I was as always in Milan, in the end hoping we would have other opportunities to meet again soon. I believe that what follows — on my part a list of words more than a series of questions, on her part a flow of considerations — expresses the entire deep, poetic extraordinariness, the bearing and untiring receptiveness of her feeling. Besides, obviously, explaining to ourselves why today her name is Monster. What her way of thinking is and what her projects for the near future are.

Q: I followed your path as an artist, read and studied your thinking. I took notes, I underlined them, and then I extracted some of the words, which I believe well explain your approach, your way of being and of working. These are words with which I empathize, that I am now going to ask you about in order to see how you relate to them today.

The first word is IMPATIENCE, as in the desire to go fast, finish one’s work quickly, see the results of what you’ve conceived and produced.

M: I’m flattered that we’re starting with the word impatience! Often, I’m the one who has to bring it up, but I’m happy that you brough it up in my place, it’s sort of like meeting halfway …You could have started from the fact that I’m enthusiastic, impassioned, energetic… I like the fact that this is how you want to start. It puts me at my ease.

Q: I think I understand the meaning of your impatience, because I, too, am impatient when I do the things I care about the most, I want to see them finished as fast as possible so that I can understand whether they work, or whether I should let them go if they don’t, or because I prefer them when they’re not finished. Eventually, I might improve or modify my approach, try over again to do better.

M: Over the years I have been attracted to people who are genuinely enthusiastic, to their positive energy. They have helped me to better understand myself. When you’re younger all you feel is that you have energy… now instead I realize that that energy is a quality, a  prerogative. A friend always tells me that “I make art as if I were careering down a hill,” and I think it’s true. What I do is never perfect. I like putting things together and seeing if they work. I’m also interested in how people might receive them.

Q: The second word is PERISHABILITY. I connect it to paper or other materials that you use over and over to make objects and creatures, costumes and masks. Your creations preserve and transmit a particular feeling of immediacy, extemporaneousness. A desire on your part to instill in them your energy, leaving a trace of yourself, becoming a part of them. They are never completely finished, they are works of art that can easily be torn or broken. I am always struck by their fragility, their perishability, the impatient, extemporaneous quality of your making them, breathing life into a sort of game, a carnival-like parade, a fantasy of yours.

M: My background is of great help to me. I’ve studied anthropology and history, I’ve read Levi-Strauss, I know what bricolage is and I know that I’m not a sophisticate who does things with what she finds all around herself. My vision has been nourished by Latin American art, which often involves fragile and perishable materials. I have found other cultures as well that have helped me to understand that it was all right for me to take directions such as these. I was desperate at first. I thought in the manner of an intelligent person and I was concerned that my work might be seen as a form of entertainment, as a practice without value. Then I began to understand just how strong it was, the extent to which it possessed an extraordinary flavor. It suited me completely and it gratified me so much as to be taken seriously.

Q: Now the time has come for a word like FRONTALITY, my appreciation for your direct and innovative approach, with no filters, no compromises, no influences. 

M: I have approached many who have been brilliant in various types of work. I’m not arrogant, I don’t want to put myself at their same level, but they encouraged me, you know when you say, “If they can make it, why shouldn’t I try to as well?” I think that my being direct and the desire to cut out a space for myself are in part the answer. About five years ago I did research on Vionnet to create a piece of my own, and what I found to be most exciting about her work was her ethical capitalism. I built up a business in which the employees could count on dental care, medical and hospital care for their families as well, and financial support for illegitimate children… I like women who have their own path, who do not choose to take the one that has already been charted.

Q: This time the word is IMPROVISATION and I’m shifting to the area that excites you that has to do with makeup and stage costumes, to examine what links your production as a performer to the culture of the theater and the cinema. You were born and raised in the world of cinema, your mother was a highly talented and world-acclaimed set designer and a costume designer who worked side by side with filmmakers like Ken Russell, John Schlesinger, James Ivory, and Ang Lee. I’d say that that’s your DNA…

M: My mother, who now lives with  me, my son, and our two cats, was and still is my life teacher. I supported her in her career from when I was a child, following her, understanding her, encouraging her. If you grow up in the entertainment or film industries you understand what they ask of you, great professionalism is always required. I still work alongside my mother for everything that concerns the use of technology and an understanding of today’s world, because apart from that she is still perfectly efficient, still engaged in great film productions.

I, my mother, and my son are intrigued with narrative. We analyze a literary work and how it’s translated into a film, and then we take into consideration all the other existing film versions. We are obsessed by how and how much the narrative represents an enchantment. It contains a number of masks, magic, and improvisation. I don’t want to sound eerie, I’m not a witch in any way, but I am interested in the moment when the suspension of disbelief is triggered. I like moments when I really manage to grab hold of the audience.

Q: On your part, you have a HOLD ON THE PUBLIC, you own extraordinary way of capturing it. And not surprisingly, you, too, are working on a film.

M: It’s a very exciting project I have in Poland, near Warsaw. It’s adapted from a children’s book written in 1948 titled “Pan Kleks” and it’s about a teacher for children with learning disabilities who still manages to convey to them the joy of living. The same book became a movie in 1984, a kaleidoscopic film in which many interesting and bizarre things happen. Some of my Polish friends suggested I do it over again and now it’s happening, with the support of a very important gallery.

Q: And now we’ve come to the last word, which is MONSTER, the name you’ve had for four years, after calling yourself SPARTACUS and then MARVIN GAYE. My question is who’s who? Have the various names you’ve used over the years changed the public’s relationship with your works?

M: I know that I work instinctively and that I acted on instinct, understanding only many years later that I had made an intelligent decision. Using the name “Spartacus” protected me like a shield. I understood that people interpreted it differently, and that they had an alternative idea of my simple, original one. I also realized that it was an extraordinary decision, like magic, like a witches’ spell. Instead, the decision to be “Marvin Gaye” has more personal motivations, because I had a very domineering father and I was worried about my life. So I hoped to allow myself some privacy, again the pleasure of the game. 

More recently, by taking the name Monster I realize I’m a survivor, that I have unsinkable tenacity, even when a person or a thing rejects me, without even realizing I start again from scratch. My very nature is monstrous. And I don’t want to hide it anymore, starting with the name, which is ridiculous but also rather useful. You get to a point, in work as well, when someone can point a finger at you and tell you you’re a bitch, you’re a star, you’re a monster. This way I can smile and reply: “Yes, I am”