The woman who thought she was a dog. Interview with Sonia Rammer.

Sonia Rammer is an artist, psychologist and traveller. She deals with art and theory with particular emphasis on the psychological aspects of creativity. In conversation, Sonia shares her experiences of an artist residency in Greenland, talking about adapting to the harsh conditions of living and working in this extreme environment. We delve into the project’s themes, exploring how the time in Greenland influenced her perspective on inter-species relationships. It’s a conversation about art, nature, psychology and stepping out of one’s comfort zone that sheds light on the complexity of man’s relationship with the world around him.

Zuzanna Auguścik: In December, you opened your exhibition “The woman who thought she was a dog (vol. 2)”, consisting of pieces of the account of your last year’s art residency Arctic Culture Lab in Greenland. I wonder how you adapted to the extreme conditions of living and working in Greenland? How long did you prepare for the trip? 

Sonia Rammer: Before leaving for Greenland, I imagined what it would be like there. I also tried to get as much information as possible by reading and watching films. There were also practical issues, like searching for the right jacket and boots. I was aware that if I wanted to act in the open air, I had to equip myself with the right clothes otherwise I would not be able to spend too much time outside. It is hard to prepare for the temperatures before leaving. The adaptation to the conditions outside was gradual, and it was a slow process, as a lot depended on my attitude and acceptance of this slowness. 

Most of the time I was shooting, the weather was freezing and dry, and the snow was nothing like the Polish slush. I had to move far away from the camera to obtain the right proportions between a given figure and the rest of the landscape. I often ran or walked fast to the right place to warm up.

Moreover, when I arrived at Oqaatsut, it turned out that I had COVID-19, which kept me in bed for over a week. It slowed me down, but maybe it was a good thing. Everything happened at its own pace. 

Z.A: Can you tell us a bit more about the project? What was “being with an animal” to you, and what challenges did “going to the dogs” pose, meaning taking on the role of an animal and experiencing the world from its perspective, as Marta Smolińska, author of the text to the exhibition catalogue wrote?

S.R: It might sound strange, but to me, the process was very natural, and perhaps it is a consequence of my perception of the world and being part of it. I always felt a strong connection with the world of nature, with animals that felt closer to me than humans. I would simply feel better in their company. I never had the sense that we were in any way better than animals; on the contrary, I would be more inclined to think that, if anything, we are the less successful link of evolution. It irritates me that our species puts itself above others and is leading the world to a global catastrophe, ignoring the network of existing inter-species connections. We are not separated from nature, we are all part of it. 

It was a challenge to stay in an untamed space. Going outside, cut out from the media, with no signal on your phone, aware that you don’t know where you are exactly, and that the weather is very changeable, that a snowstorm might come, or that I might get lost or fall from a snowbank. I was also aware that I didn’t really know this climate zone, and I didn’t know how ice would behave. I was roaming the frozen snow-covered water reservoirs, small lakes or fiords. I never knew what was under the snow.  Besides, walking on four limbs was also a real physical challenge, a challenge for the sense of balance. When I was walking on rocks hidden under the snow, I didn’t know if my arm or leg wouldn’t get stuck or if I wouldn’t slip down and fall into the water. 

We are devoid of such experience in cities. It can be observed when it starts raining, and in panic everybody is searching for an umbrella or a hiding place. And we are in safe surroundings; we can just get in a car or a tram, being not far from your home all the time. We are not at risk of a blizzard, and everything is somewhat under control. 

Z.A: The videos and photographs taken as part of the projects are minimalist, emanating coolness, calmness and spaciousness. What emotions and experiences would you like to communicate to your audience through these images? 

S.R: Usually, when I design an individual exhibition, I try to create a space for experiencing so that the viewers entering the space are transferred to a new world, this alternative reality. In this case, I was thinking about unlimited space – some type of landscape, but also about getting lost and immersed in something much greater than we are. As well as about loneliness. These were the dominating emotions that accompanied me. I was also thinking about the contrast between living beings (not necessarily humans) and space – what happens to this human-inhuman creation when it is suddenly put in a place with no boundaries. These were the most important aspects to me. 

Z.A: What are your hopes and expectations as to the influence of the project on the audience’s awareness of inter-species relations and the relationship between humans and other species?

S.R: It is complicated to have expectations towards viewers. I am aware that the “image” I propose is contemplative and “aesthetic” in a certain way. It is up to the viewers to stop at the visual “surface”,  the sounds or to reflect on interspecies relations. In the film, the living element is a very small aspect in relation to the background, thus losing its identity. The key thing for me was the uncertainty of what the moving figure was. Although readable in some shots, the human silhouette moves around in a non-human way, as if it is giving away its human nature for “hybridity”.  We are equal as representatives of various species. We all live on the same planet.

Z.A: Especially in those very harsh conditions, right? 

S.R: Exactly. When we come to a place like Greenland, we cannot ignore the fact that we are a part of something greater. We are a part of nature. When we experience the changeability of severe weather, it gets harder to close your eyes and not notice, for instance, glaciers melting.

Z.A: Until recently, you took part in art residencies, which (from our perspective) were held in quite remote parts of the world (residencies in Nepal or Iceland). What criteria are you directed by when you choose art residencies? Are there any geographical areas you find particularly fascinating due to their history or natural beauty? Perhaps you pose some specific artistic goals before you choose a given residency.

S.R: I choose the destinations of my art journeys increasingly consciously. Each of the destinations is extreme in its own way. There is a specific key – these are places where you cannot ignore the impact of the natural environment on people’s lives. Of course, we are dependent on climate conditions everywhere we are, even in Poland, but there are places so intense that the weather conditions, more or less favourable, are always present in people’s lives.

Z.A: You are an artist and a psychologist, which significantly influences your creative work. What benefits do you draw from the psychological perspective in understanding and depicting relationships between humans and the natural environment in art? What psychological methods do you reach for in your creative process, or maybe use them after completing your projects to analyse and reflect on them?

S.R: Crucially, psychology has made me more sensitive to aspects of my relationship with the audience. Consequently, the approach to myself as a creative person has also changed. This was the most transforming moment and my actions meant being a very thin ice. I exploit myself very strongly in my works, and they are in a sense exhibitionist, for example, my film “The secrets of the Himalaya” or “The woman who thought she was a dog”. On the other hand, I try not to “jabber” too much to the viewers about my experience but to make it universal. It is important the viewers find space for themselves in my work, and I believe psychology has sensitised me to this aspect.

Z.A: How does leaving your comfort zone, both in your professional and personal life, affect your inspirations and themes that you search for and take up in your art?

S.R: Moving beyond my comfort zone is a lesson and an opportunity for growth, at least, it can be seen like that. I choose projects and activities that allow me to get thrown outside the limits I know well. Also, to feel how comfortable it is to return to my familiar comfort zone and feel safe.

Z.A: Finally, I’d like to ask you about your travel-related dreams. Where would you like to go next and why? Would it be a journey related to exploring your creative work or rather the opposite? Perhaps these two things are so intertwined that it is hard to separate them at this point.

S.R: They are related but not in hundred per cent. My following travel plans related to my creative work include South America, Chile to be precise. It is where the driest place on earth, Atacama Desert, is located. I’d like to refer to, among others, the ways to live in a place without rainfall for years. 

As for my dreams, the North keeps calling me although I don’t like the cold. For example, a trip along the Arctic Circle. I’d also like to return to Greenland’s dogs to get an insider view of how hunters live and work in Greenland and what they do. From our perspective, it might seem violent because they kill seals and fish. But they do it for their own purposes- for themselves and their dogs, and they treat killed animals with great respect. It is an entirely different relationship with animals than the one we know. Besides, I miss Greenland all the time.