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Delving into the Uncanny

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Celebrate Earth Day with Two Exhibitions at the C [...]

Uncanny. It’s an unusual word with a long history that has shrunk in daily use to one very narrow context. When you see a random stranger who looks identical to someone you know, then “the resemblance is uncanny.” 

A new exhibition titled Uncanny at the National Museum of Women in the Arts demands a major expansion of the word’s meaning to include bizarre, unsettling, anxious, chilling, creepy, or just plain weird. Now I’m supposed to add “but in a good way” but I’m not going to do that. Art doesn’t have to make you feel good, and it doesn’t have to make sense. Sometimes great art enters you with a sideways glance and leaves with a cold shudder. 

Curated by NMWA associate curator Orin Zahra, the exhibition explores women artists’ provocative use of the uncanny as a feminist declaration, social critique, or personal narrative.

It’s unusual to group an exhibition around an adjective, but Uncanny is less about a word than a psychological experience where something feels unnerving because it’s familiar but just slightly off. It’s close to real but not quite right—like a subtle twist of the fun house mirror.

Sigmund Freud popularized the concept in a 1919 paper called “Das Unheimliche” or “The Uncanny.” Freud being Freud, he wrapped castration anxiety and loving our mothers too much into the uncanny as a chaotic representation of our repressed impulses and desires.

Japanese roboticist Masahiro Mori further developed the concept in 1970 with a description of the “uncanny valley” where dolls or robots become increasingly creepy as they become more lifelike, like the wide-eyed stares of ventriloquist dummies.

Laurie Simmons, The Music of Regret IV, 1994; Cibachrome print, 19 1/2 x 19 1/2 in.; National Museum of Women in the Arts, Promised gift of Steven Scott, Baltimore, in honor of NMWA Director Susan Fisher Sterling; © 2019 Laurie Simmons
Remedios Varo, Tejido espacio-tiempo (Weaving of Space and Time), 1954; Oil on Masonite, 32 1/2 x 28; National Museum of Women in the Arts, Gift from a private collection; © 2023 Remedios Varo/Artists Rights Society, New York/VEGAP, Madrid; Photo by Lee Stalsworth
Polly Morgan, Receiver, 2009; Taxidermy quail chicks and Bakelite telephone handset, 9 x 2 1/2 x 3 1/2 in.; National Museum of Women in the Arts, Gift of Ilene Gutman; © Polly Morgan; Photo by Lee Stalsworth

In this exhibition, American artist Laurie Simmons utilizes ventriloquist dummies to resoundingly creepy effect in a photograph called “The Music of Regret IV” where five male dummies surround a smiling female dummy whose body fades into the shadows. The male dummies are clothed in a range of social class attire from blue collared to tuxedoed, but they all bear strangely threatening perma-grins and their unblinking and relentless male gaze is cast down upon the female dummy from all directions.  

In the same gallery, an entire wall is filled with portraits of identical twins by photographer Mary Ellen Mark who aims to transform these real people into something uncanny by dressing them in identical clothes in posed scenes, including two old women smoking cigarettes who are standing so close together they look like they could be conjoined. 

I have an identical twin brother, so I found the series more manipulative than meaningful. Would these twins seem so creepy if they weren’t wearing the same clothes while doing the same thing and staring blankly at the viewer? It just felt too cheap and easy. 

Mary Ellen Mark, Sue Gallo Baugher and Faye Gallo, Twinsburg, Ohio, 1998 (printed later); Gelatin silver print, 20 in x 16 in.; National Museum of Women in the Arts, Gift of Frieder K. Hofmann Photographer: Lee Stalsworth
Mary Ellen Mark, Idesha and Mikayla Preston, 8 Years Old, Idesha Older by 10 Minutes, Twinsburg, Ohio, 2002; Polaroid, 28 ¼ x 22 in.; National Museum of Women in the Arts, Gift of Jill and Jeffrey Stern; © Mary Ellen Mark/The Mary Ellen Mark Foundation
Mary Ellen Mark, Tashara and Tanesha Reese, Twins Days Festival, Twinsburg, Ohio, 1998 (printed later); Gelatin silver print, 20 x 24 in.; National Museum of Women in the Arts, Gift of Robert and Kathi Steinke; Photo by Lee Stalsworth; © Mary Ellen Mark/The Mary Ellen Mark Foundation

Dutch photographer Margi Geerlinks has the most unnerving work in the exhibition titled “Pinocchio” that could serve as the promotional poster for a dystopian sci-fi film. A nude boy (or girl?) with cropped hair lies on a polished medical table with his body abruptly ending at the waist where a studious white-haired man is stitching more skin together through an old-fashioned sewing machine. It’s unclear if the wide-eyed child is alive and just waiting for his completion or if this humanoid robot still needs to have a lifegiving switch flipped.  

Haitian artist Fabiola Jean-Louis’ photograph called “Follow the Drinking Gourd” feels more tragic and mysterious with a black girl in a fancy dress sitting next to a doll house in an ornate wood-paneled drawing room. She is peering into a large doll house where a Confederate soldier doll armed with a rifle stands on the second floor above a white woman on the first floor and the shadowy outlines of two runaway enslaved people hiding in the basement. 

Both the girl and one of the enslaved people are holding a finger to their mouths in the “shhh” sign hoping to avoid detection by the personification of racism and hatred standing above them. The transformation of the chilling scene into a child’s game makes it even more unsettling as the horrors of history have been scrubbed and depersonalized. 

Installation View of Uncanny at the National Museum of Women in the Arts, Washington D.C.; February 28, to August 10, 2025; Photo by Kevin Allen Photography for NMWA 2025/02
Fabiola Jean-Louis, They'll Say We Enjoyed It, from the series “Rewriting History,” 2017; Archival pigment print, 33 x 26 in.; Courtesy of the artist and Galerie Myrtis; © Fabiola Jean-Louis
Fabiola Jean-Louis, Follow the Drinking Gourd, from the series “Rewriting History,” 2017; Archival pigment print; 33 x 26 in.; Courtesy of the artist and Galerie Myrtis; © Fabiola Jean-Louis

I was sitting in a café in Alexandria recently when I saw a truck drive by with a large sign promoting this exhibition, a new marketing maneuver to widen the net for museum goers. The sign featured British artist Gillian Wearing’s “Self-Portrait,” a photograph where she is wearing a very realistic silicone mask of her own face. She looks like a finely crafted mannequin, but then you notice her real eyes staring through the mask’s eye holes and nostril openings so she can breathe since the silicone mouth is sealed shut, concealing both speech and emotions. She is trapped behind the masks that we wear to fit in, to be loved, to be desired, or to be accepted. 

Wearing is known for wearing masks of her own face in different poses representing members of her family or famous paintings. The exhibition also includes portraits of herself as her own sister, Mona Lisa, and Albrecht Durer. 

Gillian Wearing, Self-Portrait, 2000; C-type color print, 68 x 68 in.; National Museum of Women in the Arts, Gift of Tony Podesta Collection; © Gillian Wearing/Artists Rights Society, New York/DACS, London; Photo by Lee Stalsworth
Gillian Wearing, Me as Dürer, 2018; Gelatin C-print, 60 x 45 in.; National Museum of Women in the Arts, Gift of Tony and Trisja Podesta Collection; © Gillian Wearing; Courtesy of the artist, Maureen Paley, London, and Tanya Bonakdar Gallery, New York/Los Angeles
Gillian Wearing, Me as Mona Lisa, 2020; Chromogenic print, 24 1/4 x 19 1/8 in.; NMWA, Gift of Tony and Trisja Podesta Collection; © Gillian Wearing; Courtesy of the artist, Maureen Paley, London, and Tanya Bonakdar Gallery, New York/Los Angeles

It’s a bold move for an exhibit to feature artwork that is actively intended to provoke anxiety or uneasiness. Uncanny offers the diametric opposite of people pleasers like Monet’s water lilies or Van Gogh’s sunflowers, and this is where I’ll add “but in a good way.” 

Art is above all else a representation of life and its myriad messy, joyous, contradictory, beautiful, frightening, elusive, and anxious moments. And the uncanny, in the most expansive sense of the word, lives right there within us whether we want to acknowledge it or not.    

Uncanny is exhibiting February 28- August 10 at National Museum of Women in the Arts: 1250 New York Ave. NW Washington, DC 20005  

Featured artists include Sama Alshaibi, Magdalena Abakanowicz, Louise Bourgeois, Leonora Carrington, Berlinde de Bruyckere, Nathalie Djurberg and Hans Berg, Anna Gaskell, Margi Geerlinks, Martine Gutierrez, Ann Hamilton, Connie Imboden, Fabiola Jean-Louis, Justine Kurland, Mary Ellen Mark, Polly Morgan, Meret Oppenheim, Frida Orupabo, Marlo Pascual, Vesna Pavlović, Marta María Pérez Bravo, Julie Roberts, Shahzia Sikander, Laurie Simmons, Valeska Soares, Sheida Soleimani, Angela Strassheim, Mathilde ter Heijne, Janaina Tschäpe, Remedios Varo, Gillian Wearing, and Jane and Louise Wilson.

Header Image: Justine Kurland, Grassland Drifters, 2001; Chromogenic color print, 30 x 40 in.; National Museum of Women in the Arts, Gift of Heather and Tony Podesta Collection; © Justine Kurland, Courtesy of the artist Mitchell-Innes & Nash, New York

All images courtesy of National Museum of Women in the Arts

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