Bitter-Sweet, Sparkling Nostalgia
Curatorial Essay by Kathleen O’Hagan
“Lemonade Stand,” Exhibition by Camryn Day (she/her), Sunday Jemmott (she/her), Clare O’Callaghan (they/them), and Talisa Moss (she/they).
In the last few years, nostalgia has become ubiquitous. Weaponised for maximum profit, it’s been bottled-up, drained and spurt out like a sprinkler system, coating every name-brand toy, box office blitz, and online pub quiz with its sentimental twinge.[1] In line with the post-modernist aesthetic, artists too have remixed, remoulded, deep-cut and parodied properties from their childhood or adolescence. In this way, artists have morphed memory into form; giving visibility to sub-cultures and diverse identities and winking at those “in the know.”
Despite its popular use, nostalgia has received an overwhelmingly negative reception in cultural studies and social theory. Nostalgia can be defined as a “sentimental yearning” for the past.[2] Similarly, cultural theorist Fredric Jameson saw nostalgia as a failure to cognitively investigate the past’s true complexity, reducing historization to a form of consumption. He separated his critique into a high/low cultural divide: where nostalgia was symbolised by “retro” aesthetics, pop memorabilia and Hollywood film; while history “flourished” in historical war novels written by notable (white, male) authors.
For Eve Sedgwick, Jameson’s need to linearly represent and repeat history characterised a “generational lockstep” that marked “heteronormative thinking.” In his book, “Queer Nostalgia in Cinema and Popular Culture,” Gilad Padva argues for nostalgia’s creative and reparative potential.[3] By celebrating the role nostalgia inhabits in the lives of sexual minorities, he considers nostalgia as both safeguard and a creative strategy to reconcile with the “highs and lows of queer life.”
Likewise, I would argue that an earnest and un-hindered approach to nostalgia strips it of its mawkish tendencies to provide a source of healing, imagination, and empathy.
In their exhibition, “Lemonade Stand” artists Camryn Day, Sunday Jemmott, Clare O’Callaghan, and Talisa Moss command colour, camp and kitsch to reimagine a bitter-sweet rendition of childhood innocence.
Bitter Sweetness. Sweet as in candy colours, daytime dreaming and textual bliss. Bitter as in discordant hues, fake smiles, and unsettling childhood characters staring back.
“Lemonade Stand” re-emboldens one’s appetite for youthful exuberance. Yet, the artists are fully aware of the darkened shadows and trials of identity experienced during one’s ‘coming-of-age.’
The exhibit’s use of mixed-media material and sugary aesthetics infers a reclamation of “women’s work” and palette.[4] As such, these works situate “low” or kitsch art centre-stage, equating the artistic merit of ceramics, tapestry and sewing to the “grand” traditions of painting and sculpture. In particular, the use of camp reflects a “tender concern” for outdated aspects of popular culture and the denial to redress childhood desires and traumas. [5] Heather Love positions this pull towards the past as directly linked to the “backwards” nature of queer experience. Camp betrays a subversion of growing up; adventures into wistful memory and a dogged connection to forgotten objects. Thus, these artists contend with the earnest absurdity of the domestic playfield. By manipulating childhood materials and imagery, “Lemonade Stand” investigates broader understandings of femininity, sexuality, and identity.
As you enter the gallery, Sunday Jemmott’s high-key fabric installations hang from the ceiling. Their display is reminiscent of birthday decorations, while the patched interplay of coloured fabrics mirrors a child’s bedroom quilt. As such, Jemmott’s work challenges adult cynicism to provide a sanctuary-like enclave for joy and whimsy to be felt once again.
On the right wall, Clare O’Callaghan’s pastel pink tapestry is interwoven with purple wool, shaping the silhouette of their pre-school portrait. The irregular, curved edges of the child’s bust hints at their messy hair and the collar of their school dress. O’Callaghan’s silhouette hangs like a ghost from the past; materially present yet devoid of identifying features. Instead, their use of weaving enables a tender and indexical approach to memory. Thus, O’Callaghan situates craft as a valuable form of remembrance, in opposition to the exposed reality of the family photograph.
Similarly, Talisa Moss’ painting, Self-Portrait with Artefacts (2021) captures Moss as a child with brunette waves, pink fairy outfit and wings, begemmed wand and tiara set against a flat black background. 2000s “glam girl” detritus litters the frame of the canvas (e.g., cartoon flowers, Care Bears, and a purple feather boa). In this way, the painting’s overwhelming aesthetic (with its garish palette of pink!) reflects the rigid gender expectations placed on young girls during the Y2K era.
Lastly, Camryn Day’s video work Jungle Party Impression (2021) showcases a performative rendition of a niche childhood videogame. The work features over-exaggerated makeup; bubby and repetitive background music; and flashing graphics of cartoon monkeys dancing. Day bites into a mushy banana without removing the skin and scrolls through camera filters unperturbed. Its Day’s use of performative infantilism that exposes the absurdity of childhood media — jubilant to the extreme.
Thus, “Lemonade Stand” recontextualises nostalgia as both a condition and creative practice. As a viewer, it’s hard not to be swept up in one’s own imaginings of childhood. Nostalgia merges both pain and joy in our mind, providing access to forgotten possibilities and pleasures. Likewise, “Lemonade Stand” recognises childhood’s ingenuity; the ability to “turn lemons into lemonade.” Yet, as these artists are well-aware, this process can be bittersweet.
[1] Nishant Shahani, “Between Light and Nowhere: The Queer Politics of Nostalgia,” Journal of Popular Culture 46, no. 6 (2013): 1217–1230.
[2] Tobias Becker, “The Meaning of Nostalgia: Genealogy and Critique,” History and Theory 57, no. 2 (2018): 234–250.
[3] Gilad Padva, Queer Nostalgia in Cinema and Popular Culture (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014): 1–13.
[4] “Women’s Work,” Brooklyn Museum, accessed September 14, 2021, https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/eascfa/dinner_party/womens_work.
[5] Heather Love, Feeling Backward: Loss and the Politics of Queer History (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2007): 7.
Exhibition Artists
Sunday Jemmott:
https://www.instagram.com/sundaysartclub/?hl=en
Clare O’Callaghan:
https://www.instagram.com/cla.ocall/?hl=en
Talisa Moss:
https://www.instagram.com/talisamossart/?igshid=83k4dscmdi6d
Camryn Day
