OBJECTS OF DESIRE
MAY 2025
Scout Zabinski's art is a captivating evolution from intimate self-exploration to a daring confrontation with the objectified gaze. The Los Angeles-based artist charts a course through vulnerability and detachment, transforming her own image into a vehicle for examining identity, mortality, and the complex relationship between artist and viewer. She speaks to us about incorporating still life objects in her new works and distancing herself from her physical image.
Scout Zabinski photographed in her studio by McCabe Slye.
Who encouraged you to pursue your own art career?
My boss at Andrew Edlin Gallery during college was pivotal. Despite the tough timing of the pandemic after my early graduation, he encouraged me to pursue being an artist rather than working at the gallery. He sat me down one day and told me “listen, this isn't what you want to do” and continued “you want to be on the other side and not working behind the desk”. He gave me the push I needed to take that leap.
Back then, were you already making self-portraits?
Yes, actually the very first self-portrait I made didn't show my face, it was covered by a bag. Honestly, it wasn't about hiding my identity, but rather a lack of confidence at that time, being a self-taught artist.
How did your relationship with your physical image influence your art?
Initially, it was challenging. I worried people would see these paintings as narcissistic vanity projects when in fact it was a way to understand myself. I've always felt somewhat detached from my physical image. Growing up with divorced parents and two older brothers, I felt like 'one of the boys,' making experiences of being treated as a woman feel alien. Painting myself became grounding, a way to simply see myself as is, amidst a history of low self-image from bullying and early abuse.
How has this evolved over the years?
Now, I look at my paintings and feel detached; I don't see myself there anymore. They've developed their own separate identity. That’s also what drove me to remove many specific identifiers, such as my tattoos and birthmark. For a while, discussing the work felt confining, requiring constant personal explanations of my abuse and recovery journey. While I'm comfortable with the vulnerability, it felt like a narrow, though initially validating, narrative that didn't represent my whole self.
'Melting Point', 2025, courtesy of the artist.
So, distancing yourself from your self-portraits?
Exactly, I wanted to strip away more – ironically, even from already naked figures – to make them more general and relatable. The goal was for viewers to see a naked figure, not necessarily me. Ultimately, these paintings are meant to transcend my personal narrative.
How does objectification, especially of women, connect to your new work?
There has always been irony in my self-objectification. It was jarring when viewers referred to my nudes simply as 'the girl.' But this new body of work detaches me from my identity, commenting on how we imbue objects with human-like spirit, similar to how we perceive bodies. By making object-figures life-sized, I minimize myself while elevating the objects, exploring the human experience and mortality.
What motivated this shift in your work?
My view of being an artist has shifted. For a long time, I was more focused on proving myself as a painter, perhaps due to being self-taught but academic validation became irrelevant. More importantly, this change stems from pursuing what I found exciting, experimenting with poetry, photography and installation as well as favoring transformative exhibitions over simple displays on white walls.
Was there a specific experience that triggered this shift?
Artists rarely discuss this, but I hated painting for years, which was disheartening since it used to be my passion and it got me out of bed every morning. After a trip to Europe, I realized I couldn't return to the studio with such resentment, stemming from self-imposed pressure to constantly prove myself. When I got back to the studio, the first thing I painted was a still life of butter, a dehumanizing yet freeing experience that became the catalyst for this new body of work.
'Untitled', 2025, courtesy of the artist.
Can you share more about the piece of you with the butter?
It's funny, because despite being such a common item, butter has become surprisingly symbolic in my new work, which centers on everyday objects with hidden depth. In the health-conscious environment of Los Angeles, where butter is often removed, I started thinking about its essence: a common fridge staple that represents indulgence and simple joy, a building block we so easily forget and take for granted. To me, the naked woman's body is like the butter in some ways. But the viewer’s interpretation is the most important. If the butter makes them think of something different, that's great. It’s more the connection in general that I'm hoping for.
What upcoming projects do you have planned?
This year, I'm doing a few group shows in New York, Sydney, and a smaller solo show in Madrid. These smaller shows, unlike my usual large solo exhibitions, have allowed me to take my practice less seriously and with more freedom, opening up room for experimentation.
'Red Ribbons', 2025, courtesy of the artist.
Text by Lisa Boudet