Philippa Snow’s Trophy Lives: “I’ve been unhinged in this particular way for more than a decade now”

One could argue that reality television is a far cry from fine art. However, in the 21st century’s ring-light mirror, figures like Kim Kardashian appear as the ultimate artists of our dystopia. Philippa Snow’s Trophy Lives contemplates the new art form, the public self, and its constant slippage from the screen to the gallery wall.

The essay includes images of works pertaining to the cult of the individual, from Sam McKinniss’s Star Spangled Banner (2017) and Elizabeth Peyton’s Swan (Leonardo DiCaprio) (1998) to spreads of Amelia Ulman’s infamous Instagram performance, Excellences and Perfections (2014-2018). Here, Lydia Eliza Trail catches up with the author, cultural critic, ‘Lindsay Lohan scholar’ and Plaster columnist to discuss mortality, Instagram and, of course, the Kardashians.

Lydia Eliza Trail: Hey Philippa, thanks for speaking with Plaster. How are you feeling about the release of Trophy Lives?

Philippa Snow: No problem! I feel like I always do whenever a fairly large project of mine is about to be unleashed on the general public, which is a bit like the turtle from the Looney Tunes cartoons when he gets spooked and shoots back into his shell.

LET: Was there an idea, artwork or reality star that kickstarted this project?

PS: In 2013, I wrote a piece that was a mocked-up gallery text about Paris Hilton, muddling the details of her “work” and biography with those of the Austrian artist VALIE EXPORT, for the now-defunct art website ArtSlant. So, I’ve been unhinged in this particular way for more than a decade now. Also, I think there’s something pleasantly egalitarian about analyzing forms of culture that everyone else can access.

LET: This essay discusses eternal youth and its relationship to Instagram, art and the self. How do you feel about your own mortality?

PS: I’m glad we’re sticking to such light questions. I actually just entered the second half of my thirties yesterday, so if you are a member of Gen Z reading this, for instance, I imagine you will perceive me as being at death’s door already. To answer this more seriously: if you’re talking about ageing, I was reading an interview with the playwright and screenwriter Lucy Prebble in the New Yorker recently, and she was talking about getting older as a woman being a blessing because it meant never again being mistaken for an assistant when she walked into a meeting where she was actually the boss. That’s something I agree with. If you’re talking about dying itself, somewhat unusually for a goth, I am terrified of it and try not to think about it too often.

LET: Trophy Lives is shorter than your first book, Which As You Know Means Violence. What drew you to an illustrated essay?

PS: When I pitched this, I was also shopping around a proposal for a full-length essay collection elsewhere, and I wanted a shorter-term project post-Violence. The idea—which I’d been dancing around for a while in things I’d already written—seemed to me to be the kind of thing that would sustain a text that was longer than a magazine piece but shorter than my previous book.

LET: I love the moment at which you compare Instagram to a 24-hour well-lit gallery where everything and anything is examined under sallowing lighting. What is your screen time like?

PS: It has been absolutely dreadful in the past. I turned off the thing that logs it on your phone, let’s put it that way. I’m not fantastic at using social media myself—I haven’t had I’m-still-calling-it-Twitter for years, and Instagram now is less user-friendly for people like me who don’t really like to post images of themselves. Nonetheless, the lure of scrolling through content posted by people who are good at social media is quite strong. That said, I’ve cut the amount of time I spend on Instagram radically in the last few months, and I can’t say I miss the way it used to make me feel, which was sort of depressed and inadequate and judgemental and envious all at the same time for no good reason.

LET: You discuss two larger-than-life female icons in the essay: Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton. Who do you prefer?

PS: Paris is a fascinating practitioner but, I fear, has proven herself to be a dreadful person in some respects in the past. Perhaps she has reformed, and Kim has her own controversial aspects, but on balance—it’s Kim Kardashian for me.

LET: Reading Trophy Lives drew me to contemplate my own relationship with popular culture. How would you describe your consumption?

PS: I recently wrote an essay for the Los Angeles Review of Books about Vanderpump Rules – a show currently in its 11th season which I have watched absolutely every episode of – which was just shy of 3,000 words long. I feel like that probably answers the question.

LET: If you could own an artwork of or by a celebrity, what would it be?

PS: It would definitely be Sam McKinniss’ 2019 piece Lindsay, which shows Lindsay Lohan in a state of mysterious distress behind the wheel of a car. I love his paintings—I was thrilled to have one of Whitney Houston on the cover—and I’m also something of a Lindsayologist. The film magazine Little White Lies once referred to me as a “critic and Lindsay Lohan scholar,” and I was so pleased that the quote was my bio on everything for about three years.