One slide jumps out at the crowd of about 150 people. The slide is of an odd statue: a naked woman on all fours, frozen as she was crawling across the floor.

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A long and longer rope of shit dangles for about ten yards behind her Smith explains that “we all leave a trail of shit behind us no matter where we go.” This is art?

The next morning we are sitting in the sterile lobby of her hotel Smith is licking the last sticky bit of honey out of one of those single serve plastic containers. She accidentally drops it and the container gets stuck. in her long curly black hair. “I think there is a comprehensible language in the art world,” says Smith, pulling the container out of her hair (it isn’t an easy task.) “But maybe there is no language at all.” For an artist who sports an eyebrow ring and sculpts female genitalia and statues of men with semen stains, Smith appears to be rather, well, normal. “I’m moderate,” says Smith in her Roseanne-esque monotone, “and now more comfortable with life.”

Born in Nuremberg, Germany, from a family of artists, Smith moved to New York at age 18 and began drawing cell tissues, neurofibrils, and blood cells; she was from an early age extremely interested in the human body.

“I decided to become an artist,” says Smith “because I didn’t know what else to do.” Now she has exhibited all over the United States and Europe.

Smith creates life-size sculptures made from wax, paper, glass beads, bronze, paper mache, and anything else she can find. The Galerie Rudolfinum presents an impressive selection of Smith’s work from the last four years. The exhibit is drawn from a collection at the Whitechapel Art Gallery in London. Most of her work shown here, like all of her work, contradicts the conventional Western ideas of beauty, and attempts to put us in touch with the inner workings of our bodies. Smith explains, “Our bodies are basically stolen from us, and my work is about trying to reclaim one’s own turf, or one’s own vehicle; to own it and to use it to look at what we are.” A long and longer rope of shit dangles for about ten yards behind her Smith explains that “we all leave a trail of shit behind us no matter where we go.” This is art?

The next morning we are sitting in the sterile lobby of her hotel Smith is licking the last sticky bit of honey out of one of those single serve plastic containers. She accidentally drops it and the container gets stuck. in her long curly black hair. “I think there is a comprehensible language in the art world,” says Smith, pulling the container out of her hair (it isn’t an easy task.) “But maybe there is no language at all.” For an artist who sports an eyebrow ring and sculpts female genitalia and statues of men with semen stains, Smith appears to be rather, well, normal. “I’m moderate,” says Smith in her Roseanne-esque monotone, “and now more comfortable with life.”

Born in Nuremberg, Germany, from a family of artists, Smith moved to New York at age 18 and began drawing cell tissues, neurofibrils, and blood cells; she was from an early age extremely interested in the human body.

“I decided to become an artist,” says Smith “because I didn’t know what else to do.” Now she has exhibited all over the United States and Europe.

Smith creates life-size sculptures made from wax, paper, glass beads, bronze, paper mache, and anything else she can find. The Galerie Rudolfinum presents an impressive selection of Smith’s work from the last four years. The exhibit is drawn from a collection at the Whitechapel Art Gallery in London. Most of her work shown here, like all of her work, contradicts the conventional Western ideas of beauty, and attempts to put us in touch with the inner workings of our bodies. Smith explains, “Our bodies are basically stolen from us, and my work is about trying to reclaim one’s own turf, or one’s own vehicle; to own it and to use it to look at what we are.”


Originally published in Velvet Magazine and archived here.