This text was written to accompany the site-specific installation, It’s Just My Funny Way of Dancing.

Fowler has created 13 large-scale drawings that wrap around the space on one unbroken sheet of paper, creating an all-encompassing, eternal flow of movement that surrounds the viewer like an over-sized film reel. The drawings originate from the frozen frames of a scene in the Marlene Dietrich movie Destry Rides Again (1939). In the scene, Dietrich is drawn into a surprisingly brutal cat fight with co-star Una Merkel. Her usually marble-like composure slips, her infamous poise and icy glamour is replaced by a raucous cacophony of movement as she tosses herself about the room with total abandon. The women become a tumbling mess of ripped skirt, pulled hair and laddered stocking.

The title of the exhibition is inspired by Hank Cochran’s 1962 song It’s Just My Funny Way of Laughin’, in which he tries to disguise his heartbreak behind a thin veneer of happiness. Fowler’s use of this title highlights the ambiguity within the scene. At times it is hard to decipher whether or not the pair are reeling in agony or writhing with pleasure. By freezing and isolating these moments, Fowler draws our attention to the ever-present fine line between agony and ecstasy, ascribing a hitherto invisible meaning to the images. In doing so, she also exposes the real intent behind this rather inexplicable and unnecessary scene. If those moments of exposure are unsettling and titillating now, imagine the guilty joy of feasting upon the odd flash of garter, exposed pantaloon and smudged lipstick for the audience of the time.

Fowler is attracted to this rare glimpse into another side of the iconic Marlene, whose glamorous, glittering evening dress and stockinged legs are sometimes all that distinguish her from her plainer adversary. The artist’s technique echoes Marlene’s transformation, embracing a fluid manner of drawing, almost painterly in style, to achieve the heightened sense of drama and passion in their acrimonious embraces. Her drawings confound our eye, screaming with movement while allowing us to inspect every frozen detail.

A handout accompanies the exhibition, an unfolding recreation of the show in miniature with added paper cut marks showing how the works will be divided at the close of the exhibition. All at once the fluid whole suddenly resembles a sewing pattern, a reminder of the artwork and movie star as saleable commodity. Invited to disassemble the film reel, we get to re-enact the artist’s own activity, further isolating each frame to take a piece of the action home for ourselves.

JESSICA PUREFOY
Independent Film Producer and Director

Read further writing and essays in response to the subjects and themes relating to the work of Nina Mae Fowler here.