“The two characters exist in both years,” Jennifer Reiland explained. In 2014 he is a security guard; in 1914 he’s a foot soldier in the trenches of World War I. She’s a porn star in the modern world as well as a courtesan in a brothel a century earlier. The couple weather the wartime climates, their lives mediated by the technologies of both eras.
“It’s about the experiences that play out again and again, across time.”
“Different day, same old story,” I suggested.
Reiland sipped her drink. “Exactly.”
I met the American artist for a coffee date in the courtyard of the Grande Mosquée de Paris on the eve of her new show at La Fondation des Etats-Unis, which opened today. "I have brown hair of a would-be Audrey in Roman Holiday cut," I’d emailed Reiland so she could find me. "That's perfect because I'm a wannabe Marilyn," she’d replied. "Bleach blonde; super pale." Reiland is originally from Houston and wore a gold necklace that spelled TEXAS. She’s been living in Majorca, but was in Paris for her new show, a solo exhibition titled Doppelgängers: The Great War Through a Mirror.
Reiland developed the series of illustrations during her recent nine-month residency with La Fondation des Etats-Unis, though she started researching the culture of World War I while she was still a student at Cooper Union. Reiland saw a connection between the “twin years” of 1914 and 2014. The eighteen pictures blend scenes from the two years to explore themes of war, technology, pornography, identity, destiny—and especially how history doubles back on itself.
“For a lot of people, the year 1914 seemed like the end, or at least a game changer,” Reiland told me over over sweet mint tea and brik (Tunisian crêpes). “I really think we’re living in that time again, but a century later.”
She talked about how accustomed people are today to “mirrors,” namely the screens of our computers and telephones, and I quoted the press release: “People confront their doppelgänger in two-dimensional images of themselves and complex digital representations of their identities. Similarly, the youth of 1914 had ready access to cheap, ubiquitous forms of photographic technology that allowed them to duplicate themselves and the world around them.”
“And speaking of duplicates,” I said, indicating a Frenchmen seated nearby. He looked uncannily like Jeff Goldblum circa Jurassic Park. “Oh, my God,” Reiland said. “Exactly!”
In keeping with her compulsion to move between the ages, Reiland sometimes considers where she will go in a time machine, once the technology becomes available. One idea she has is to go to Texas in the mid-eighties and find young George W. Bush. “George Bush,” Reiland would tell him, “I’m from tomorrow and I think you should keep drinking. Drink more, in fact.” Then she’d encourage him to become a painter. “He could be a drunk artist instead of president,” she said, giggling. “And who knows what the world would look like now.”
Doppelgängers is open through February 24
Grand Salon of Fondation des Etats-Unis
15 Boulevard Jourdan
Paris, France 75014
Map
Chantel Tattoli is a writer based in Paris. She is working
“It’s about the experiences that play out again and again, across time.”
“Different day, same old story,” I suggested.
Reiland sipped her drink. “Exactly.”
I met the American artist for a coffee date in the courtyard of the Grande Mosquée de Paris on the eve of her new show at La Fondation des Etats-Unis, which opened today. "I have brown hair of a would-be Audrey in Roman Holiday cut," I’d emailed Reiland so she could find me. "That's perfect because I'm a wannabe Marilyn," she’d replied. "Bleach blonde; super pale." Reiland is originally from Houston and wore a gold necklace that spelled TEXAS. She’s been living in Majorca, but was in Paris for her new show, a solo exhibition titled Doppelgängers: The Great War Through a Mirror.
Reiland developed the series of illustrations during her recent nine-month residency with La Fondation des Etats-Unis, though she started researching the culture of World War I while she was still a student at Cooper Union. Reiland saw a connection between the “twin years” of 1914 and 2014. The eighteen pictures blend scenes from the two years to explore themes of war, technology, pornography, identity, destiny—and especially how history doubles back on itself.
“For a lot of people, the year 1914 seemed like the end, or at least a game changer,” Reiland told me over over sweet mint tea and brik (Tunisian crêpes). “I really think we’re living in that time again, but a century later.”
She talked about how accustomed people are today to “mirrors,” namely the screens of our computers and telephones, and I quoted the press release: “People confront their doppelgänger in two-dimensional images of themselves and complex digital representations of their identities. Similarly, the youth of 1914 had ready access to cheap, ubiquitous forms of photographic technology that allowed them to duplicate themselves and the world around them.”
“And speaking of duplicates,” I said, indicating a Frenchmen seated nearby. He looked uncannily like Jeff Goldblum circa Jurassic Park. “Oh, my God,” Reiland said. “Exactly!”
In keeping with her compulsion to move between the ages, Reiland sometimes considers where she will go in a time machine, once the technology becomes available. One idea she has is to go to Texas in the mid-eighties and find young George W. Bush. “George Bush,” Reiland would tell him, “I’m from tomorrow and I think you should keep drinking. Drink more, in fact.” Then she’d encourage him to become a painter. “He could be a drunk artist instead of president,” she said, giggling. “And who knows what the world would look like now.”
Doppelgängers is open through February 24
Grand Salon of Fondation des Etats-Unis
15 Boulevard Jourdan
Paris, France 75014
Map
Chantel Tattoli is a writer based in Paris. She is working