Nadja Ellinger

The fairy tale’s strength lies in its ability to retell itself, thus constantly adapting to new languages, environments, and people. The fact that it wasn’t written down, fixed by a literary pin, enabled it to evolve freely. As American fairy tale scholar Jack Zipes states: “There is no such thing as the fairy tale; however, there are hundreds of thousands of fairy tales.” This multitude enables communication across language and country borders. It does not only talk, it listens, and it invites to participate. 

It was not until the 19th century when the fairy tale was written down, mainly by male authors with the aim to educate young children in moral and well-behaving. To conform with the values of the society back then it was rewritten, often losing core ideas of the oral tradition and altering character traits of the protagonists. The main changes were de-sexualisation (Brothers Grimm), belittling of women (Perrault) and in general censorship of violence in the story. This direction was also picked up later by many artists of pop culture, famously also in the movies of Walt Disney.

This led to an overrepresentation of a certain narration: The Disney princesses are well known for being the typical damsel in distress, waiting for the male saviour. This does not do justice to the multifarious fairy tale, that offers so many diverse roles. Deeply inspired by Angela Carter’s approach of “putting new wine into old bottles” I create fairy tales with more pathways for the female figure than either being domesticated or sexualised.

To realise this I adapt the transitional space. Donald W. Winnicott has shaped this concept as “part of the life of a human being, a part that we cannot ignore, [...] an intermediate area of experiencing, to which inner reality and external life both contribute. It is an area that is not challenged because no claim is made on its behalf except that it shall exist as a resting-place for the individual engaged in the perpetual human task of keeping inner and outer reality separate yet interrelated”.

I place my figures in this in-between space and let them play and explore. The viewfinder of my camera becomes a stage, and the borders between reality and fantasy become blurred. What was inside turns outside, and an idea is embodied and born into the world. Then the camera devours it, captures the outside world and places it inside its own body, the camera body. And this process repeats when I place the images into the outside world. They become part of the physical realm. But then the gaze of the viewer captures them again, they are projected first onto the retina, and into the mind. It’s a circle of being inside and outside, connecting both worlds - the physical as well as the psychological. Like the fairy tale its telling and retelling, acting and reenacting. The path into the wood looks like a tour through the forest but is a journey to the inside.