Jennifer Remenchik is an artist based in Los Angeles, CA. On October 31, 2023, she wrote an article in Hyperallergic titled What Freezing My Eggs Meant to Me as an Artist. In the article she intimately described her experience freezing her eggs and how the choice of whether or not to become a mother one day gripped her, made her question her life choices, and even her decision to become an artist. Space On Space had a studio visit with Remenchik to learn more about her practice, and this interview is what surfaced.

*Q-Cap*, archival c-print, 30 x 20 inches, 2023.

Space On Space: Before we dive into your work, let’s start with a pragmatic question. What is egg freezing for those who may not know much about it?

Jennifer Remenchik: Egg freezing is the process of using injected hormones to get your body to produce as many eggs as possible in one menstrual cycle. It takes about ten days to go through–from the second or third day of your period when the injections start through ovulation when the eggs are retrieved.

SOS: You created a series of photographs documenting your process. In the article, you mentioned that your original intention was documenting the process as an act of love to yourself and to this potential future family. I love this quote, “Everyone wants to be wanted. What could be greater evidence of being wanted than your mother spending an inordinate amount of time and money for the possibility of giving life to you? If nothing else, it was an important moment in my life when I permitted myself to go after what I wanted, rather than passively allowing my biological clock to tick by.” How have the photographs evolved now that some time has passed?

JR: Initially I saw the documentation process on a more personal level, that it would be a once-in-a-lifetime way to capture this moment for myself, my future partner, and our child—a truly modern family portrait. But even then I had a small “spidey sense” that the images may turn into an artwork. They touch on some deep themes in my work, like the relationship between consciousness and materiality.

The next stage came after I recovered from the procedure–I had to think about whether I wanted to share such personal information with the world. Despite having created deeply personal artworks before, I value privacy. Once you put something out there you cannot control what assumptions or judgements people will make. I posted them on Instagram with the caption “Oocyte Cryopreservation, Instagram post, 2023.” One of my editors saw them and asked me to write the essay you mentioned earlier.

Now I have become less self-conscious about the work, which allows me to think about it in a more removed, editorial way. Currently I am in studio mode–testing different types of printing paper, trying out frames, etc.

*Follicles*, archival c-print, 12 x 16 inches, 2023.

SOS: In our studio visit, you described the woman in the photographs as a character. Do you look at this series as a type of performance in some ways?

JR: It’s not so much that I look at this series as a performance as it has to do with the complicated relationship between subject and representation. A tension exists between the living, dynamic me and the woman in the photos—a representation frozen in an artwork, detached from change and time. Artwork interpretation varies among viewers, but as an object, it remains essentially static. The image "Follicles” intensifies this tension, offering an ultrasound of my ovaries' eggs—a potential first portrait of a future human, uncertain and undefined.

One thing that fascinates me about the oocytes(1) that were collected from my body is the way I am envisioning them as a child when in fact they are currently inert, frozen matter. But they are more than that at the same time, no? They are matter that is inherently full of sentient potential because of the genetic code they contain and how that fuses with another code to become animate, a new person—that in and of itself is fascinating. How does matter become infused with consciousness? How does consciousness affect matter and to what extent is all matter animate or not? These are some of the larger questions I am interested in embodying through the work.

(1) An oocyte is a female gametocyte or germ cell involved in reproduction. In other words, it is an immature ovum, or egg cell. An oocyte is produced in a female fetus in the ovary during female gametogenesis.

SOS: There is a subtle sense of sexuality in some of the photographs and clearly the work is revolving around the body. Can you speak to this more?

JR: Taking positive risks in life is inherently sexy. Perhaps because egg freezing, and by extension IVF, are sexual reproduction without the actual act of copulation, there was a way in which I wanted to infuse sexiness back into the experience, or alternatively, speak to the way it still can be sexy, just a different kind. Certainly it involves vulnerability, intention, desire, and intimacy, which are some of the fundamentals of great sex.

SOS: Does the body come up as a theme in your work as a whole? If so, how?

JR: I am fascinated by the body's generative capabilities and its intricate relationship to consciousness, particularly in the realms of individuation, wound healing, and neuroplasticity. This preoccupation permeates all of my work.

A profound tension surrounding the body also surfaces in another series, "Mourning Letters" (2015-2020), a four-part video piece born from letters I wrote to my first love after his death. Similar to the "Oocyte Cryopreservation" series, these letters didn't start as an artwork; rather, they evolved over time as I healed enough to recognize their potential for public and artistic expression beyond their role in my personal grieving process. Both projects delve into envisioning the boundaries of consciousness and life.

In "Mourning Letters" and its precursor "Dear Ty" (2015), I grappled with grief over the past and the remnants of his body–a post-sentient state. Conversely, in "Oocyte Cryopreservation," I contemplate the future and my oocytes—pre-sentient matter. The way the concept of linear time and binary views of consciousness and the body collapse under the presumptions of a phrase like “pre-sentient matter” is an ongoing exploration in my practice.

*Injection Sites*, archival c-print, 24 x 18 inches, 2023.

SOS: Issue #4 is focused on the theme carry. What are we carrying? What makes a body feel safe? Who will carry our future? Can you address these questions as they relate to this series of work and your art practice as a whole?

JR: One of my earliest and most profound memories of love is my stepfather carrying me from the car to my bed after long road trips. I liked it so much that I began to fake sleep at the end of car rides just to experience it again. Thinking about carrying the future can feel exhausting, but when I shift my perspective to giving someone else the feeling of being carried it transforms my relationship with the concept.

In comparing "Mourning Letters" and "Oocyte Cryopreservation," a distinction lies in the character's (my own) life experience. In "Mourning Letters," she reacts and barely holds on, while in "Oocyte Cryopreservation," she actively makes life-affirming choices to broaden her future possibilities–a substantial leap. My personal growth and healing occurred by choosing to focus on memories of experiencing love, replicating that love for myself, and, consequently, extending it to those around me. This approach makes carrying easier as I become energized by the joy of recreating that nurturing experience for another. The need for a sense of safety extends beyond childhood; it is crucial for everyone's well-being.

SOS: Is there anything else you’d like to add?

JR: One thing I noticed in the general response to me freezing my eggs was that people tended to assume it was a horrible experience, despite the fact that the hormonal effects actually left me somewhat elated. I find it disturbing how frequently being a woman and being in pain are assumed to be inherently synonymous states. Constantly reinforcing the idea that womanhood equates to subjugation and suffering can lead us to believe, even subconsciously, that pain is an obligation.

We have come to a time when extremely constrained concepts of identity dictate how individuals are supposed to think, feel and be. I would encourage everyone to lighten up a little bit.

Jennifer Remenchik is an artist based in Los Angeles, CA. She received an MFA in Art from the California Institute of the Arts and a BFA in Studio Art from the University of Texas at Austin. Her work has been exhibited in several institutions and galleries, including Brand Library & Art Center, No Gallery, VIVO Media Arts Centre, HILDE, basement projects, Industry Lab, and The Contemporary Austin, among others. Remenchik has been selected for residencies at A-Z West Works in Joshua Tree, CA, the Arquetopia Center in Urubamba, Peru, the Performing Arts Forum in St. Erme, France, Toni Areal in Zurich, Switzerland, the Banff Centre in Alberta, CA, the Vermont Studio Center in Johnson, VT and the Arquetopia Foundation in Cusco, Peru. Her artist book, “Hey lady,” is available through Printed Matter. She is a regular contributor to Hyperallergic, and has written for CurateLA, BOMB Magazine and Contemporary Art Review Los Angeles, amongst others.

jenniferremenchik.us

On Egg Freezing, Sentience, and The Body As A Site for Art Practice | Interview with Jennifer Remenchik

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