Cindercats, Conveyor Belts and Mermaid Tails

A: So, art has been a way for you to navigate your queerness and gender identity?

T: Absolutely, but it took me on a detour during my studies. The ghosts of early second-wave feminist works that I was introduced to really haunted me. The detour came from trying to understand effects from visual culture and mainstream media while being shaped by it. Through performances, I have played roles that I do not necessarily relate to, which has taught me what makes people uncomfortable contrasting what they are usually exposed to. There’s something about femininity and female bodies that evokes such strong reactions in people. 

A: What is the most significant act of resistance in your practice?

T: What I depict is open for interpretation, it depends who the viewer is and the context. I enjoy messing things up a little but not too much so things become obvious, there has to be space for uncertainty. Some people have questioned its relevance, asking whether we, as a society, have not moved beyond art about feminism and female bodies. Others have told me that it's not grotesque enough. But that's precisely the point. Perhaps, the resistance is my refusal to let things go, and by continuing dissecting them.

A: What about other reactions to your works?

T: After performances or exhibitions, people often tell me I'm brave, which used to confuse me whether or not it was a compliment. By saying brave, they are saying that there is some kind of danger and risk. Indeed, the act of performing is vulnerable and simply performing is brave, but I don't think that's what they mean.

Some might perceive my work as brave because it's not guaranteed to be well-received. It could harm my reputation or make me look stupid. But that's perhaps what confirms the environment in which my work exists and proves its importance. Maybe people aren't even aware of it, but they genuinely see it as effective and brave. For me I do what the character or the work needs me to do. All of it is experimentation and play—trial and error.

A: Do you have a specific work in mind when you are talking about these reactions?

T: Many, but right now I’m thinking of my solo exhibition, Mythbust, in Kling&Bang Gallery in 2022. There, I performed a character called Cindercat, a human and cat hybrid lying inside an aluminium coffin, waiting to get to the afterlife to party. The work was titled Read Me My Rites (2022). Cindercat is a mix of mythologies of hyperfemininity and cats. Drawing influence from the 50s representation of femininity, Disney’s Cinderella and by psychoanalysing my own vampiric grandmother.

Another work in the exhibition was Interview with a Notorious Wildcat (2021) a video installation depicting an interview between an unidentified sexual hybrid of a human and lynx, and the interviewer who is presented as the voice of the camera. The topic of the interview presented is the hybrid’s experience of its body. The character is very stripper-meets-50´s-Gilda and speaks of a seductive yet shameful experience, from within its volatile body.  

The third work in the was a video titled Demonstration (2022). The work centers around a mother and daughter relationship, played by me and my mother. In the work, the daughter artificially inseminates herself with non-human sperm and becomes pregnant and dies from the complications of the pregnancy. The video follows the mother discovering what happened, only to find out that her daughter wanted to change her lineage and human form. She fails by dying, but tries again by haunting her mother as a ghost. It ends with the mother becoming a monster. 

When playing the insemination In Demonstration I put a turkey baster inside me. That might be a reason why one could find me brave. In Interview with a Notorious Wildcat, there might be a number of reasons. Instead of hiring actors or dancers to play these roles, I do it myself, it can be therapeutic to me. 

A: As a non-binary person, how do you experience the separation between private life and art? 

Is there a distinction?

T: As a performer, my art is often personal. I draw inspiration from different aspects of myself, using elements of myself while blending in external factors to create a whole character or metaphor. So, while parts of me are present in the work, it's also fictional. 

Personally, I'm fascinated by the blurred lines between the personal and art, especially in the context of social media. If Tristan is mental at home, is that a performance? I enjoy playing with those blurry lines, especially because sometimes I can't even make the distinction myself.

A: What does your artistic routine look like?

T: It depends on the type of work; exhibitions without performances and concerts vary. If I'm performing, the worst thing that can happen is still being in the middle of installing works and sorting out technical issues when it's time to perform. Preparation time is crucial—it's about transitioning mentally into a character, not just physical warm-up.

In my performances, I often have a performance installation where the material or the space itself helps me get into character. For example, I can't fully become Cindercat until I'm inside the aluminium coffin. 

For me, mental preparation is more important. Of course, physical warm-ups are good but it's necessary for me to get into mental shape. Now, I understand why some performers become divas. Prior to a performance, I can't handle too much information and tend to become absent-minded, but that's because I am protecting my state of mind.

A: What do you think is the most influential artwork to you that you have created so far?

T: Probably my graduation piece from IUA, titled On all fours (2017). I rebuilt an old conveyor belt from a fish factory and performed crawling on it for 25 minutes at a time during the exhibition. Before that, I had been creating works that suggested sexualising and objectifying perspectives on the female/animal body. With On all fours, I wanted to show the body stripped of those references, allowing the connotations to happen in the mind of the viewer.  The work does refer to a natural history documentary, inspired by Eadweard Muybridge; the origin where science meets film. It's about viewing the body through a lens. 

Various inbuilt lenses through which people view bodies interest me. Such as scientific, film, pop culture or media. I wanted to bring those lenses forward and showcase how the technical framework, cameras, windows, screens and the conveyor belt shape our perception. The audience watched the live performance through windows, on a screen, becoming onlookers to a production of a “clean” image: a human animal body crawling on a conveyor belt. 

How the audience interpreted the work depended on their conditioning For example, a child and someone who regularly watches pornography would have two very different experiences. A child might find it amusing, seeing it as a person playing an animal, while someone else might see it as something sexual or degraded

My favourite piece, so far, is Interview With the Notorious Wildcat. The process of making it was really magical and fun. I cast my friend and artist Billie Meiniche as the voice of the interviewer and the process was so much fun. Although the work is dark, it’s also cheeky. 

A: Do you reference the girl/teenager within you, when you are creating art?

T: All the time. It's a pivotal part of understanding myself and drawing from those experiences, when I create. A concrete example is that I've used a lot of visual material from my childhood. Because of my father's profession, we have so much home video footage that my big sister, artist Guðrún Tara, and I have both used in our artistic practice. As well as self-taped footage from when we wereteenagers. There are incredibly awkward clips of me in my room, dancing or acting, experimenting with different versions of myself. Material that I have then manipulated into a form that is neither documentary or fiction but something in between, and more mysterious.

A: What is the difference when you are using your own body in your art and when you are directing other people in your performances?

T: In recent years I have mostly worked with people I have personal connections with, for example friends. I think it's because it is more fun that way. But also for therapeutic reasons like with casting my mother as “the mother“ in Demonstration. This personal bond interests me more than simply casting someone random. 

For example, in Interview with a Notorious Wild Cat, I cast my friend Billie as both the interviewer and the cameraman. He played the character I created, but he also took liberty with it. A part of why I chose him is the dynamic that already existed between us. On set, I created a performance installation in which I recorded him while he filmed and interviewed me.  Much of the recorded material involves me performing for him, while he performs for me. I then edited the material to serve the characters in the work, but the flirty and playful queer friendship is felt through the work. That's what makes it special to me. 

A: How do you predict future development in your practice?

What will be the next step or direction for you?

T: Bigger and more radical worlds. I will be in Lisbon for the next seven months and then I will return to Iceland to exhibit in Gryfjan, Ásmundarsalur next September. In Gryfjan I'll expand the material world of the performance The Slippery Twist of the Tail (2023), which I had previously shown in Copenhagen in 2023. The work is a humorous stand up, where I play a mermaid in a sculptural 10 kg silicone tail.