Marnie Weber

I first saw an example of Marnie Weber’s work in a newpaper article that covered a collection of collages she was exhibiting at a gallery here in Los Angeles. The collage which was shown had rabbits and nude women in some bucolic background. It was idea driven. Bold. I was hooked.

Later, I would browse the galleries at Bergamot Station in Santa Monica and find more examples of her work. Somehow I knew that she was living with or married to Jim Shaw and the formidable duo seemed to share intelligent examples of Los Angeles sensibilities. Marnie Weber’s collages continued to impress me, and then I was told that she made films and music and sculptures. So much to look for. Just the other day I realized that Sonic Youth had used one of her pieces as cover art for their 1998 album A THOUSAND LEAVES. And as we all know, a SY cover is an imprimatur of redoubtable acceptance.

Marnie Weber’s fantastical world of white-faced Marnie Webers in landscapes of foreboding seems to merge childhood stories, pubescent awakening, adult dangers and lots of animals from the forest or barnyard. Using imagery and props from what could be second-hand shops or thrift stores (a So Cal art school tradition from the 1980’s and 1990’s), she reproduces her iconic gamin-in-a-costume character over and over inside tableaux which wouldn’t be unusual on calendars featuring the great outdoors. Of course that ‘s only one theme of her collections, she places her alter-ego in royally appointed 18th century rooms from the Getty Museum, buckaroo chuck wagons, or even an idyllic pond in some cross between Ophelia’s death scene and a grammar school girl’s birthday party. I like them all. There’s a psychological ghoulishness at play often times, the kind of buzz one might feel when confronted with the ghost of a school girl in her uniform found victimized and cast off in a field. Her ghosts seems to re-inhabit worlds normally invisible to the viewer, but she allows us inside. Take a snapshot, it’s okay. But please respect a funereal decorum, you can titter or gawk, but don’t guffaw. She may rip the heart out of your chest if you do. She has certain developed powers.

Marnie Weber has grown to be a staple of Los Angeles art, much of it traveling globally into public and private collections. Her vision seems singular and literate, like a character study following through many volumes, each different, each probing. I'm anxious to see more.