Demonstrating the visceral force of human emotion, I Think It’s In My Head is a powerful example of Tracey Emin’s profound and provocative visual practice. First exhibited in 2002 at Lehmann Maupin, New York, I Think It’s In My Head was a centerpiece of the solo exhibition titled after the work, emphasising its potent significance within Emin’s oeuvre. Belonging to the celebrated cycle of appliquéd blankets which she began in 1993, the present work is entrenched with personal intrigue and aesthetic allure.

Emin’s patchworks are created from old clothes which carry sent.mes ntal value to the artist, cut up and stitched into a quilt. Assembled square by square, the laborious process offers a compelling metaphor for Emin’s attempt at piecing together fragments of her past. Sewn onto the mosaic patchwork of memories are fragmented words and phrases, as if pouring out from Emin’s stream of consciousness. They speak of beauty and pain, paranoia and desire, exposing the kaleidoscopic fragility of human experience. Expressing the perplexing flurry of transient feelings through a process of patchwork and quilting, Emin allows a meditative pace with which each word is contemplated. As curator Sue Prichard notes, “Quilts stimulate memories of warmth, security and home, yet their layers can also conceal hidden histories and untold stories.” (Sue Prichard cited in: Charlotte Cripps, ‘Stitches in t.mes : Quilt-making as contemporary art’, The Independent, 15 March 2010, online). Such deep-rooted feelings of ambivalence are quite literally stitched into the fabric of Emin’s work. Painfully raw yet lovingly consoling, the present work captures the essence of Emin’s art.

Composed at the height of Emin’s meteoric rise to art world stardom, I Think It’s In My Head is fuelled by the relentless vortex of emotion that has defined her career. Part of the ground-breaking YBA group, alongside the likes of Damien Hirst, Sarah Lucas and Jenny Saville, Emin courted international attention for her no-holds-barred approach to interweaving artistry and autobiography. The artist has stated that her quilts were originally intended as blankets for a bed, and indeed the present work recalls the explicit intimacy of Emin’s breakthrough pieces Everyone I Have Ever Slept With, 1963-1995 (1995) and My Bed (1998). Emin’s poignant exploitations of language as a means of baring her soul to the world have positioned her amongst the most important artists working today. “[W]hen it comes to words”, Emin has stated, “I have a uniqueness that I find almost impossible in terms of art – and it's my words that actually make my art quite unique.” (Tracey Emin in conversation with Lynn Barber, ‘Show and Tell’, The Observer, 22 April 2001, online).

Renowned for her brutal honesty and poetic humour, Emin lays bare her greatest weaknesses and vulnerabilities via her art, which self-reflexively explores the overwhelming fallibility of the human psyche. Boldly, bravely, and brazenly she invites us into her inner-world of raw feeling, aggression, pain, insecurity, intensity, love, hate, highs and lows: hers is a body of work that speaks the language of humanity in all its imperfect and inconsistent glory. In Emin’s own words: “I want society to hear what I am saying… For me, being an artist isn’t just about making nice things or people patting you on the back; it’s some kind of communication, a message... about very, very simple things that can be really hard. People do get really lonely, people do get really frightened, people do fall in love, people do die, people do fuck. These things happen and everyone knows it but not much of it is expressed. Everything’s covered with some kind of politeness, continually, and especially in art…” (Tracey Emin in conversation with Stuart Morgan, ‘The Story of I’, Frieze, Issue 36, May 1997, p. 60).