Q&A with Elisabeth Subrin

School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC) alum Elisabeth Subrin (MFA 1995), a critically acclaimed filmmaker and artist, is celebrated for her interdisciplinary exploration of intersections between cultural history and subjectivity.

Her films, video art, and installations have garnered international acclaim, exhibiting in the US and internationally, including at Cannes, the Viennale, and the Whitney Biennial. On March 21, Subrin presented two of her works, Maria Schneider, 1983 and Shulie, at SAIC’s Gene Siskel Film Center, followed by an engaging discussion with Art Institute of Chicago’s Associate Curator of Modern and Contemporary Art Giampaolo Bianconi. Explore more about Subrin's genre-bending practice of "speculative biography" as she reflects on her years at SAIC upon her return to the city for the first time in 20 years.

How did your time at SAIC influence your practice?

As a filmmaker who had grown increasingly interested in video art, being in a department that took video art seriously was exhilarating because it helped expand my practice. The program was dedicated to video as an art form, but also work that was political, social, and community-based—all of these approaches  are crucial elements of the study of video art. 

Here, I had the opportunity to meet incredible people who influenced me and became mentors: Kate Horsefield, the director of Video Data Bank; Vanalyne Green, a professor in the department whose work was very important to me; and Barbara DeGenevieve, a brilliant professor in the photography department. I also had close relationships with Jennifer Reeder (MFA 1996), as well as with Leah Gilliam and Sadie Benning, both represented by the VDB. It was indeed the dialogue between people in and around the program that made it so valuable to me.

In your film Shulie, the protagonist confesses her dislike of Chicago. She says, “I do not like Chicago. I’ve never liked it. I do not feel like I belong. People who do not belong anywhere go to New York.” What is your relationship with these cities, considering you have a long-standing relationship with both?

Despite what Shulie said, the film is truly a love poem to Chicago. While attending SAIC, I missed the East Coast a lot. So I really identified with Shulamith's sentiment. But when I watch it now, I feel so nostalgic and grateful for Chicago—the whole film is embedded in this locale. I can’t speak for how Shulamith looked back at her time here, but as far as the film is concerned, it is a portrait of Chicago as much as of her.

You often refer to your films as “speculative biographies.” Could you expand that? Do you see your films as more fiction or nonfiction?

Questions like this came up a lot very recently because of my film Maria Schneider, 1983 which won a César (French Academy Award) in the Documentary category. The film is a fictional reenactment of a 1983 TV interview with the French actress who was sexually assaulted on the set of the legendary Last Tango In Paris, performed by three different actresses from different backgrounds and experiences. It’s produced entirely on a soundstage with professional actors, crew, production design, etc. What I am trying to do in my work is to rewrite, re-envision, and imagine the past by mining absences and fissures in history, or remaking the archives from a feminist perspective. I’m interested in the stories and experiences of women’s lives that were not recorded, or were produced and shaped by dominant ideologies, or considered meaningless or minor documents and evidence. Because those biographies do not exist, I have to speculate; I have to assert a subject that wasn’t there.  

Besides film, you also work with multimedia installations. What discoveries have you made in the process of switching between showing your pieces on a screen versus a three-dimensional space?

The black box versus white cube dilemma has become a much bigger topic over the years. In the ‘90s video art world I was part of, it was taboo to present your work in a commercial gallery—it was just not punk rock. Most people I know who found success in media art now swing between black box and white cube. For me, there is a third space—the independent narrative film world.

I am constantly moving between the three. The Listening Takes, which is a multi-channel version of Maria Schneider, 1983, remains my most ambitious, immersive installation. In the installation, three large video projections are presented on massive walls backed with distressed glass mirror panes. While one actress speaks on one wall, the other two are listening and reflected on the backs of the others’ walls. On the fourth cycle, the three speak simultaneously, creating a layered round of women’s voices re-interpreting Maria’s commentary on gender and the film industry from three different perspectives. Comparing the film and the installation, Maria Schneider, 1983, is about trauma, whereas as an installation, it becomes about collective healing by holding space for multiple women’s experiences.

How do you define the role of a director in the contemporary world? 

In a society that is still racist, sexist, homophobic, and classist, art is one of the few places where you can do exactly what you want. I always tell my students that if you don't have complete freedom as an artist to do what you want, you are really missing the most incredible thing about being an artist. You are making the world exactly what you want it to be, which is what Shulie talks about in the film.

The experience of being a director has marked a shift from a practice where I did everything myself to the incredible privilege of having a team of people help me create my work. Part of being a director is also the fact that if you don't do it, no one will. You must have a complete sense of urgency that this story absolutely has to be told. Especially as a queer, feminist filmmaker, every single film, no matter how successful you are, feels like pushing a boulder up a white, patriarchal, heteronormative rock.

Ultimately, the role of a director is to urge people to see the world in a different way. I don't think that artists save the world. I don't even think artists really change the world. But I believe that they open the world.■