A deep red the hue of blood appears in many of the loose, figurative paintings that make up “Lovers Grave,” a new exhibition by Tracey Emin at White Cube New York. In some instances, the red evokes violence; others, love. More often than not, it’s both at once—an intense concentration of emotion communicated through saturation of color and force of application.  

That love and violence would be two poles guiding Emin’s new body of work makes sense: the artist, long known for her confrontational installations, sculptures, films, and other works, is just three years removed from being diagnosed with cancer. She beat it, thankfully, but not without major sacrifice—including an emergency surgery to remove numerous female reproductive organs from her body. 

Tracey Emin, Yes I miss You (2023). © Tracey Emin. Photo: Prudence Cuming Associates Ltd.

Projecting an artist’s trauma onto their work is not something to be done lightly, but in this case, it’s apt. Emin’s life has always intermixed with her art; her vulnerability is what made her a young art star in ’90s London and it’s what has made her work endure since. Just as she’s been open about other deeply personal experiences throughout her career, the artist has been candid about her surgery and its effects. She’s also been candid about the relationship that kept her tethered throughout. 

The name of “Lovers Grave” comes from the images that helped inspire it: that is, photographs from archaeological burial sites, where human remains were excavated in entwined pairs—skeletons in a perpetual state of embrace. You’ll find variations of that motif throughout the exhibition, though whether Emin’s figures are united in gestures of romantic comfort or carnal passion isn’t clear.  

Tracey Emin, There was blood (2022). © Tracey Emin. Photo: Prudence Cuming Associates Ltd.

This sense of equivocality may leave some thinking these are angry paintings, but it’s more likely that the opposite is true. These are some of the warmest artworks that Emin has ever made.  

“I had fucking cancer, and having half my body chopped out, including half my vagina,” the artist told Artnet News in 2020. “I can feel more than ever that love is allowed.”  

“At my age now, love is a completely different dimension and level of understanding,” she continued. “I don’t want children, I don’t want all the things that you might subconsciously crave when you’re young—I just want love. And as much love as I can possibly have. I want to be smothered in it, I want to be devoured by it. And I think that is okay.” 

See more paintings from “Lovers Grave” below.

Tracey Emin, The Beginning and The end of Everything (2023). © Tracey Emin. Photo: Prudence Cuming Associates Ltd.

Tracey Emin, We died Again (2023). © Tracey Emin. Photo: Prudence Cuming Associates Ltd.

Tracey Emin, Is Nothing Sacred (2023). © Tracey Emin. Photo: Prudence Cuming Associates Ltd.

Tracey Emin, There was no Right way (2022). © Tracey Emin. Photo: Prudence Cuming Associates Ltd.

Tracey Emin, And It was Love (2023). © Tracey Emin. Photo: Prudence Cuming Associates Ltd.

“Tracey Emin: Lovers Grave” is on view now through January 13, 2024 at White Cube New York. 

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