Fall 2022 - The Figure

Le cabinet du psy (2005) immerses the viewer in a
psychoanalyst’s office. Can you talk about your interest
in psychoanalysis, how it developed, and how it informs
your work?
As someone who grew up in Buenos Aires, which has one of
the highest concentrations of psychoanalysts in the world,
it’s unavoidable. Our daily discourse is full of the language of
psychoanalysis, as are people’s daily lives. French structuralists
have also been very important for Argentine intellectuals, so we
are always on the divan in one way or another. My work is often
associated with the Freudian concept of the uncanny, which
is certainly present in this piece, where we are “neither here
nor there,” where the ordinary has become suddenly and
mysteriously strange.
Does a variation of voyeurism—or a kind of autovoyeurism,
if you will—play a role in Le cabinet du psy?
At first glance, viewers seem to be offered an opportunity
to peek in on a private space, one where theoretically
the unconscious will also be on “display” through the
process of psychoanalysis, which could add another level
of intimacy to the revelation; however, instead of looking
upon the bodies and psyches of others, viewers are
ultimately “spying” on themselves.
First off, there are certain spaces that have a kind of charge,
and the psychoanalyst’s office is one of them; it’s a very private
place, a kind of inner sanctum. There is a thrill to this private
view, but we end up looking at our own projected images,
though we are only half there, like ghosts. This is where my
interest really lies, the moment when we know where we are
physically, and yet we seem to be somewhere else. The mind
understands the process, and yet it’s very confusing. Not
unlike the kind of projection we experience in our relationships
with other people—and with ourselves.
You often use mirrors and glass to play with perception, to
create illusions, and to destabilize. In Le cabinet du psy, the
glass and mirrors may even facilitate a temporary feeling
of disembodiedness, where viewers see themselves in
one space but physically feel themselves in another.
When and why did you first start using mirrors and glass
in your work, and how has your understanding of these
materials transformed over the years?
Reflection—or the absence thereof—has always been an
important tool for me. One of my first installations was El
Living (Living Room) (1998), which uses both mirrors and
a duplicate space to play with the expectations baked into
our perception. What you mention here is a key interest
of mine: What happens when we know something to be true
(mirrors reflect our image, boats float in water, walls are solid),
but our experience tells us something else? In that moment of
confusion, the world becomes new again and the ordinary is
suddenly a mystery.
In Bâtiment (2004), which will also be on display at the
Museum, you similarly use mirrors, this time to achieve
the gravity-defying illusion that viewers are hanging
off the elevation of a four-story building. Can you talk
about the role that the feeling of destabilization—
both visual and physical—plays in this work and in your
practice in general?
We believe, in general, that we are on the receiving end of
experience. The world is a certain way, and we interact with
that certainty. An installation like Bâtiment changes the rules
and allows us to happen to the world. We are no longer on the
receiving end. This experience has an obviously playful quality,
but I’m very interested in the spectator as co-creator—not
to mention the role that smartphone cameras play in the
reproduction of my work, something that I never considered
but that has become a creative force. I was amazed when
I discovered what was happening with my work on Instagram,
for example, and how far people have gone with their own
creativity—which is really gratifying. But none of that would
happen without that moment of destabilization or confusion
or surprise. Reality opens up, suddenly, and we jump in.
Tell us a little about the issues and themes that are occupying
your thoughts currently. What can we expect from
Leandro Erlich next?
I have become increasingly focused on our relationship to the
earth, thinking about the human imprint of the Anthropocene
and the way we distinguish between “organic” and “artificial” in
a way not unlike our distinction between “real” and “imaginary.”
Recent works like Order of Importance (2019) and Concrete
Coral (2021–22) address our impact on the planet as creators
in a world that bears our stamp. I also have an upcoming
retrospective at the Pérez Art Museum Miami (PAMM). It’s
very significant for me to show my work again in Houston, a
place that was seminal for me as an artist and has made so
many things possible.
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