In Sex and Solitude, Tracey Emin presents two states of being that have long defined her artistic vocabulary. Rendered in glowing yellow neon, the phrase stretches horizontally across the wall in her instantly recognisable cursive script, balancing intimacy with confrontation. The work reads like a personal admission, yet its universality pulls the viewer inward; it is at once confessional and collective.

Emin’s neon works, which she has produced since the 1990s, occupy a singular position within contemporary art. Adopting the visual language of urban signage—traditionally associated with desire, commerce, and spectacle—she transforms it into a vehicle for vulnerability. Her handwriting, bent into glass tubing, preserves the spontaneity of a private note. The slight irregularities and fluid gestures resist polish, reinforcing authenticity and emotional immediacy.

The pairing of “sex” and “solitude” encapsulates a tension central to Emin’s practice. Throughout her career, she has examined the complexities of intimacy: longing for connection while grappling with isolation, desire intertwined with abandonment, physical closeness shadowed by emotional distance. The phrase suggests that these experiences are not opposites but companions. Sex, often imagined as union, can coexist with profound aloneness; solitude, frequently framed as absence, can carry its own quiet intensity and autonomy.

The choice of yellow neon deepens the emotional register. Warmer than white yet more charged than soft pastel hues, the golden glow radiates energy and urgency. Installed against a darkened wall, the light creates a halo effect, amplifying the psychological weight of the words. The work becomes environmental as well as textual—its illumination spills outward, subtly shaping the surrounding space.

The elongated scale of the piece accentuates its poetic rhythm. The script unfolds like a line from a diary or a fragment of verse, occupying space with assured presence. Despite its modest height, the work commands attention through luminosity rather than monumentality. The edition of three, with two artist’s proofs, reinforces the intimacy and scarcity characteristic of Emin’s most sought-after neon works.

In Sex and Solitude, Emin once again demonstrates her ability to turn language into sculpture and emotion into light. The work is both a statement and a meditation—a glowing articulation of desire, vulnerability, and the paradox of being human: that even in our most intimate moments, we remain profoundly alone.