In A Forgotten Tongue: An Interview of Mattea Perrotta

Mattea Perrotta
Perdòno, 2023
oil on canvas
57 x 77 in
195.6 x 144.8 cm

interview by Lara Monro

Our primary means of conveying meaning is through spoken and written forms, as well as sign language. But what do we do when faced with language barriers, unable to verbally communicate with another/others? Google translate is one option, but what happens when we use our imagination? Or when we explore the imagination of others through our own unique lens?

The earliest civilizations used cave walls as canvases to share their knowledge, beliefs, and stories. For visual artist, Mattea Perrotta, art has become a way of conveying her secrets and vulnerabilities. It has also become a lexicon to connect with others, often from different countries and communities. During her time in Morocco, challenged with learning Arabic but keen to connect with her hosts, she started using drawings to engage with her companions. It was a familiar and natural way of interpreting the world around her. 

A diagnosis of synesthesia at an early age was the catalyst for Perrotta’s need to develop an individual language; mathematical formulas made sense when color coded, as did phone numbers. This subsequently translated into her art form, which began with abstract shapes, defining her earlier career. Perrotta’s practice evolved organically, and in recent years a figurative approach has occupied her canvases as she investigates, questions and challenges the canon of art history referencing the work of Pablo Picasso and Leonardo da Vinci.

This May, Perrotta is exhibiting in her hometown, Los Angeles, for the first time since moving to Europe five years ago. Her solo show, In A Forgotten Tongue, at Praz Delavallade, signifies a turning point for the artist, harking back to an abstract style whilst continuing her investigation into art historical movements; Baroque, Renaissance and Cubism. Each shape within a canvas, or tapestry work, takes on its own vocabulary, distinguished by color and size. As this is Perrotta’s secret language, we are left with subtle signals and our imaginations to interpret the work.  

In the following interview, the artist explains why she describes her paintings as being similar to lasagna and what she will be researching during her residency this summer at the American Academy Rome.

LARA MONRO: Can you tell me about how your early diagnosis of synesthesia impacted you creative practice?

MATTEA PERROTTA: School didn’t come naturally to me. Mathematics and spelling were incredibly difficult (and still are). I took exams in other rooms than my classmates to have more time. It was really embarrassing as a kid. I would get so nervous before going to school I would throw up. My mom found this hippie healer outside of Los Angeles to help me deal with my nerves and anxiety in elementary school. She asked me what I enjoyed doing in my spare time and I told her I loved to draw. During our meetings I would draw whilst we spoke. While I was drawing with crayons I told her that when I used a particular color I would see a letter or number—that was my earliest introduction into synesthesia. As I got older and understood what synesthesia meant, I began to use it as a learning tool in school. I essentially was able to cheat my way through academia because I created my own unique language through color that had direct associations with letters and numbers. For example, in math, I would color code on my arms equations or formulas. I still use it to this day when I need to remember phone numbers or how to spell something. Recently I began teaching and I share this with my students who  ]might have synesthesia without knowing how it can be used as a learning tool. 

 

Mattea Perrotta
Lingua Madre, 2023
oil on canvas
77 x 57 in
195.6 x 144.8 cm

 

MONRO: Do you see all your art as your secret language? 

PERROTTA: Of course. That's the power of abstraction. You can share your deepest secrets and emotions without giving too much away. It’s incredibly liberating. I resist revealing myself. I’m comfortable with secrets. Abstraction allows me to reveal myself, be vulnerable, whilst still having it be my own. I’ve created a language through abstraction where my secrets can breathe on canvas, but behind a veil of form and color. This is the age of diaries, the talk show, the autobiography, social media. Everyone is an online activist—this self and this experience of selfness in its guises and disguises as it addresses language and as it confers secrets and meanings.

MONRO: Can you tell me how your art form has helped you communicate in the different places you have lived over the years?

PERROTTA: The first memory that comes to my mind is when I was living in Morocco. I was an artist in residence below the Atlas Mountains in this very tiny town called Tahanaout. There were two local artists there, Mohammed Mourabiti and Mahi Binebine. Mohammed ran the residency and Mahi had a studio there. I recommend everyone to get to know their work. I lived on site and painted in another studio during Ramadan. We would gather in the evenings and have dinner together. They spoke in Arabic, I attempted to learn the basics as much as possible, but it wasn’t enough for me to communicate. We began drawing during our dinners to express what we wanted to say. One can imagine how long these dinners were speaking through paper and pencil. I’ll never forget it. We sat in a cave underneath his studio exchanging stories about our homes, and our practice. Art can be an amazing tool for communication when we’re in unfamiliar territory. 

MONRO: You will be showcasing a new body of work in your upcoming exhibition, In a Forgotten Tongue. Is the show connected to your last two exhibitions, which examined the canon of art history through the work of Pablo Picasso and Leonardo da Vinci? 

PERROTTA: Absolutely. My work always had a heavy influence from Renaissance periods and Picasso’s cubist period. My love for Renaissance painting comes from my time living in Florence after I graduated from [UC] Berkeley. While living there, I studied Renaissance painting and iconography at the Uffizi gallery. In 2018, I moved to Paris and lived near the Picasso museum and would frequent places that he and the surrealists, Dora Maar hung out at. I completely immersed myself in his world and became obsessed with his way of painting and playfulness. That time in Paris for an artist was so special. In recent years—the London years I say—I have been exploring a way to combine the two periods (Baroque and Cubist) into one lens. Research has always been a large part of my practice. Being a traveler keeps me eternally curious about studying the language, traditions and art of where I am, and incorporating that into the work. My paintings are a bit like lasagnas; layers of information I’ve been fed from various places. 

 

Mattea Perrotta
Lo Straniero, 2023
oil on canvas
77 x 57 in
195.6 x 144.8 cm

 

MONRO: It seems that the works presented in In a Forgotten Tongue are moving away from your more recent figurative pieces?

PERROTTA: Indeed. I’ve been incredibly fortunate to work with galleries that allow me to take risks within my work. I’ve always been someone that’s gone against the grain of what is expected to an extent. I was lucky enough to have my first show with abstract paintings and have it be received well, but after that I wanted to continue to explore different realms. Again, traveling feeds me with so much information that I like to digest it in different ways in my work. In a Forgotten Tongue is a full circle period for me. It’s the first show I’ve done in my hometown in five years since I moved to Europe. It feels like the right time to go back to my earlier abstractions because Los Angeles was that for me. The architecture of the city, the light, the colors, history, immigration of cultures feels like one big abstract painting. Then I left and lived in a few different cities that had heavy influences of Renaissance art from churches to medieval cathedrals. Being able to make abstract paintings incorporating these earlier Renaissance traditions—periods of places I’ve lived through a contemporary lens—feels really on a par with where I am right now in my life and my family’s history.

MONRO: You have created tapestry pieces for this show. Were they created by the same weavers you worked with when living in Morocco in 2017? And, what drew you back to creating tapestry works? 

PERROTTA: While I was living in Tahanaout, I became fascinated with materials and mediums. Mohammed and Mahi worked largely with various materials, which opened the floodgates for me to think differently in the studio. On my way there, the airport confiscated my bag of oil paint, so when I arrived in Morocco I didn’t have access to supplies as easily. I began using pigments from the souk as paint. I’d take dirt from my walks and apply it to the canvas. I used the land as a medium. Then, I started thinking more existentially about the painting as a living and breathing being. Morocco is known for their carpets. I met the group of weavers whom I’ve now been working with for the last seven years. The first time I went there with my friend, we got lost three different times, hitch hiked, and had an entire village helping us find the studio. It’s in a very remote town outside of Rabat. I became interested in the way of turning the painting into a livable being, such as a carpet. How it can be enjoyed as a tangible object, eating on it, laying on it, how the painting becomes part of you in a more visceral way. I enjoy the challenge of bringing these instrumental paintings to life, such as my L’Ultima Cena series—making it an interactive and somewhat performative work of art. For the Cena show in Berlin last year, my dear friend Frank Maston composed my paintings into medieval compositions. We released a little cassette for the show. The audio played throughout the entirety of the exhibition. I loved the idea of a painting becoming an invisible feeling that only exists in the ethers. I wanted the paintings to have a voice. My other friend from Bronze Age in London printed a lithograph book of the paintings with text about each apostle. My mother made her famous pasta and we had dinner at the table I had installed for the show. It became a feast of the senses on every level. I really enjoy exploring different territories within my work.

Mattea Perrotta
Perdoni I, 2023
hand dyed, hand sewn wool
57 x 77 in
144.8 x 195.6 cm

MONRO: You will be artist in residence at the American Academy Rome this summer. What inspired you to apply and what will you be working on during your time in the program? 

PERROTTA: AAR has been a place where many artists I’ve admired have resided, such as Philip Guston, Bert Long Jr., Martha Boydenn, Jannis Kounellis, and David Hammons, to name a few. The program gives me an opportunity to live within an artistic community and learn about my peers’ process and practices, immerse myself within the history of those who worked there, and challenge myself to find new ways of approaching my studio time. Rome is one of the greatest cities in the world, the history, art, culture—there’s so much beneath those walls that can be explored 1,000 times over again and I feel as though I’ve only ever managed to scratch the surface. Being able to live and work there will allow me to further dive into my research of connecting the dots between Renaissance and contemporary narratives through art, history, and architecture.

MONRO: Being in different places is a huge part of your identity and creative practice; engaging with different cultures and communities. Are you planning to stay and work in Italy post residency? 

PERROTTA: I am. I’ll be living and working in Naples full time. My father is Italian and I recently got my dual citizenship. I’ve always felt connected to the culture and my family’s heritage. They grew up in a region called Campobasso in a small village as farmers. It’s a beautiful, tiny mountain town not far from a seaside town called Termoli. They value tradition, the piano piano lifestyle, which in Italian means “slowly, slowly.” I really like to transition into that after living in metropolitan cities, to immerse myself in the humility of it, and see where it takes my paintings. There’s so much more to explore and learn. People and places will forever humble and inspire me to be the best version of myself as a person and artist. I feel very lucky to have the opportunity to live in such a way and share it with others. 

Mattea Perrotta
Echoing Dialects, 2023
hand dyed, hand sewn wool
77 x 105 in
195.6 x 266.7 cm

In A Forgotten Tongue is on view through June 24 at Praz Delavallade 6150 Wilshire Blvd
Los Angeles CA 90048

Signifiers of Embodiment: An Interview of Charlotte Edey

 
 


text by Lara Monro
portrait by Brynley Odu Davies


Charlotte Edey is a London-based visual artist who adopts a multidisciplinary practice as a form of personal and political expression. Drawing on a multitude of themes, her work addresses notions of femininity, gender, body politic and mythology. Edey’s tapestry, embroidery and sculptural pieces are extensions of her drawing practice, and her distinct artistic language focuses heavily on symbolism and the investigation of space. Recognized for their surreal dreamscapes and pastel palette, she employs a recurring water motif that takes inspiration from Ovid’s “Metamorphoses,” which serves as an investigation of ‘hydrofemininity,’ and the belief that our bodies are fundamentally part of the natural world.  

Edey’s newest body of work, Framework, is currently on view at Ginny on Frederick. In this exhibition, a dialogue between each piece has been created by the artist as she examines various ways to blur the boundary between the real and the represented through the motif of the window and frame. Using these as a point of departure, she explores the notion of transparency to identify and differentiate between interior and exterior, public and private. Her intricately detailed—hand sewn and beaded—tapestry works and larger mirrored pieces are symbolic gateways that gently interrogate interior space, identity, and observation. We spoke on the occasion of Framework’s opening to discuss her development in recent years, as well as her interest in the symbolic interplay between windows, frames, and eyes. 

LARA MONRO: You attended The Drawing Year at the Royal Drawing School from 2021-2022. How instrumental do you think this period was for your development as an artist? 

CHARLOTTE EDEY: Interestingly, I feel like The Drawing Year allowed me to really consider the relationship between drawing and embroidery in my work. Alternating between observational drawing classes and textiles, I was considering the role of mark-making in embroidery. Satin-stitch embroidery has such a direct relationship to hatching and even blending; layering colors to create tone. Similarly, beading feels like a stippling process. Forging this relationship has made me more ambitious with my embroidery and the works really feel like they now inform the other. 

I was studying during the Covid-19 lockdowns, and I think the restrictions of that time leant a real introspection to my experience. I had some wonderful teachers who really pushed me to contextualize my instincts in drawing. I started working primarily in soft pastel as I’m interested in a sort of unnatural light, and pastel is such a generous medium for a glow. As a lot of my subjects are anthropomorphic, I find an uncanny luminosity lends a kind of autonomy, or agency, to subjects that aren’t always explicitly figurative. 

Installation photography by Stephen James. Courtesy the artist and Ginny on Frederick.

MONRO: You have started to work in very interesting ways with frames; both bespoke and found (often antique). Can you tell me about this new artistic line of inquiry?

EDEY: There are recurring motifs in my work of mirrors and windows as portals to these imagined landscapes. The first bespoke frames were made on The Great Women Artists residency curated by Katy Hessel at Palazzo Monti in 2019; a series of tapestries exploring the transcendent image that referenced the altarpieces in the Baroque churches of Brescia. 

I feel like these methods of display provide an immediate context to the works they house by employing the pre-existing narratives of these objects. I really enjoy the collaborative nature of working with found objects. They are their own archetypes which deeply inform the textiles and drawings, and they imbue them with a sense of both location and time. 

MONRO: Your upcoming show at Ginny on Frederick is titled Framework. Can you talk about the importance/relevance of the frames within the context of the exhibition? 

EDEY: I was interested in interrogating the role that framing plays in my practice for this show. Consequently, Framework takes the motif of the window as the point of departure for a series of works exploring the potency of the window as a symbolic portal. The motif of the window by virtue of its transparency, its flat dimensionality and its frame, is predestined like few other motifs for fundamental reflection on the image and the process of seeing.

Installation photography by Stephen James. Courtesy the artist and Ginny on Frederick.

There’s a passage in Olivia Laing’s The Lonely City[: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone] I often revisit where she states that “windows are thought to be analogous to eyes, as both etymology (wind-eye) and function suggests.” This symbolic interplay between windows, frames and eyes seems the perfect avenue through which to create works that explore interior space and identity.

MONRO: It seems you are beginning to adopt a more immersive approach in the way you exhibit your work. Take the window pieces in Framework, for example, which feel more like installations. Is this something you are looking to explore further? 

EDEY: The process of seeing is so integral to the visual symbolism of the window, it felt essential that the works reflect each other, creating an exchange of looking within the space. I was conscious too of responding to the ceramic tiles of Ginny on Frederick. The framework of the grid forms the underlying structure of both the tapestries themselves and of the panel sash windows that house the drawings. The grids recurring and reflecting throughout the show feels immersive and deeply specific to this space.

MONRO: For Framework you have created beautiful woven jacquard tapestries which you have hand sewn with intricate pearls and glass beads. Can you tell me about this process and where your inspiration came from? 

EDEY: I was considering the role of glass within a window frame. In lieu of a sheet of glass, I wanted to cover the surface of the tapestry in a layer of glass through extensive hand-beading, akin to rainwater on glass panes. There are well over ten thousand beads across the tapestries! The beading is most dense in the highlights, with opalescent, transparent and pure white beads and irregular freshwater pearls creating a luster that echoes the bright light of the drawings. I really enjoyed working into the folds with metallic blacks and dark greens, so even the shadows glimmer. 

The exhibition is accompanied by the most magical original text ‘Soft Pastoral’ by poet Ella Frears, which opens with the line: The beads collected on the surface like condensation.” The connection she draws between the beading and beads of sweat adds a bodily dimension to the works that I just adore. 

MONRO: You are using the tapestry works to examine the window as the point of intersection between interior and exterior space. Can you tell me more about this?

EDEY: Deleuze discusses the transparency of the window as enforcing a two-way model of visuality: by framing a private view outward—the 'picture' window—and by framing a public view inward—the 'display' window.The works in the show are divided by these two realms of public and private, exterior and interior. 

The embroidered tapestry works navigate a controlled visibility. In these intimate ‘display windows,’ the curtains are drawn to the public stage, blurring the interior. The glass beads and freshwater pearls cover the surface, further obfuscating the act of seeing. Conversely, the idea of transparency and observation permeates the drawings in the show. Through the corporeal ‘picture windows,’ the sexual symbolism of spatial openings is explored. Signifiers of embodiment—eyes, mouths, loose sheets—wink and whisper across the anthropomorphic landscapes.

MONRO: Where will you be exhibiting next and do you have any plans to make new work? 

EDEY: I will be exhibiting a new series of works alongside Gal Schindler and Alexandra Metcalfe with Ginny on Frederick at NADA, New York in May. After that, I’m very excited to be working towards a two-person exhibition with Azadeh Elmizadeh at Seaview in Los Angeles and an exhibition with Eigen+Art Lab in Berlin later this year.

Framework is on view through April 22 @ Ginny on Frederick 91-93 Charterhouse St, Barbican, London

Installation photography by Stephen James. Courtesy the artist and Ginny on Frederick.

Leave Your Thoughts On Boobs After the Tone: An Interview of Carly Randall


interview by Lara Monro


Carly Randall is a visual artist, filmmaker and creative producer. Her work explores issues and themes that specifically impact women in modern society. These include knife crime, online bullying  and filter culture, as seen in her multi-award-winning dance film, FILTERFACE: Double Tap to Like, which examines how social media filter culture affects the mental health of young women. 

In 2022, Carly was awarded a Develop Your Creative Practice grant from Arts Council England to create a 2-minute-long, educational art film that exposes the language men use to talk about women’s breasts, highlighting the ubiquitously misogynistic and objectifying attitudes. Carly set up a hotline for teenage boys and young men to share their honest opinions on women’s breasts via voicemail. She created posters to promote the hotline, strategically placing them in prime locations around London’s East End Borough of Hackney (sometimes up to 200 a go), and shared with universities, colleges and friends who posted them in city centres nationally to ensure a diverse response that fairly depicts the breadth of the UK. To accompany the voicemails, Carly worked with a casing agent to bring together a selection of women from around the UK to shoot and film their breasts—those which our patriarchal society have deemed “undesirable": too flat, too big, odd nipples…

Carly has created a unique social experiment that creatively dramatizes the disparity between the ‘fantasy’ and the ‘reality’ of women’s breasts as a result of unrealistic representations created by the porn industry, perpetuated across social media and reaffirmed by patriarchal conditioning. I spoke with Carly about her motivations behind the art piece, how Playboy inspired her backdrop for the art film, and her main takeaways from listening to the voicemails. 

LARA MONRO: When did you get the idea to create a film that examines how young men of today view women’s breasts and what would you say were your biggest motivations for making the film? 

CARLY RANDALL: The film was conceived one evening whilst watching the Edgar Wright documentary on the weird and wonderful Sparks Brothers. On hearing their 1970s track “Tits,” I was struck by lyrics which, exposed a man’s disappointment at his wife’s breasts no longer being “a source of fun and games” having been repurposed to nourish his newborn son. It made me curious to explore to what extent the male gaze still exists within society today.

I’m also fascinated by technology’s impact on the growth and development of young people. A few years ago we looked at the effect social media was having on young girls' mental health with our film FilterFace: Double Tap To Like and it felt timely to turn our attention to young men, especially with the rise of toxic influencers like Andrew Tate. In the age of the iPhone, sexualized imagery of women is readily available to young men whether streamed through sex/porn websites, shared on Whatsapp and Snapchat, or disguised as an innocent influencer dance on TikTok. I wanted to create an educational art film that exposed the language men use to talk about women while presenting a cross section of what real women's breasts look like. The aim was to encourage young men to interrogate their current perceptions, or those of their peers, by debunking the unhealthy and unrealistic depictions society places on the female form.

MONRO: What do you want viewers to think/feel as a result of watching TITS

RANDALL: I think it will elicit different reactions. Some people may find it amusing, some disturbing, some embarrassing and some offensive. It’s uncomfortable watching because you are being shown these beautiful headless nudes whilst hearing audio that is quite crude and coarse. The comments range from being quite innocent and playful to being a bit creepy, but ultimately, they boil down to the female form being objectified by the opposite sex. 

MONRO: This film was made possible through an Arts Council England grant, can you tell me more? 

RANDALL: The Arts Council has a DYCP grant which enables creative-minded people to develop their artistic practice, whether that’s poetry, dance, filmmaking, or any other medium. It’s an incredible opportunity to set aside some time to carry out research and development into your practice, and then craft and hone those skills.

MONRO: What was your casting process for the women? 

RANDALL: I worked alongside the casting agent, Lane Casting, to find the women featured in the film. Lane reached out to women through multiple channels, including through their network, through flyering, and also researching specific groups on Facebook with responsive audiences like arts, modeling and even some nudist groups. It was important to make it clear to everyone what the film was about. This way, we could be sure to attract people who connected with the project.

In addition, I posted a series of Instagram stories and had some female friends re-share on their profiles. I had such an incredible response and quickly developed a one-on-one dialogue with the women who had reached out. It was great, as I was able to get an idea of their stories from early on in the casting process.  

Off the back of this, I held Zoom interviews with each of the women to find out about their breasts. Due to the sensitivity around nudity, I was not able to actually see any breasts until the day of the shoot. This made the zoom interviews incredibly important as I was essentially casting blind and relying on our conversations to understand their insecurities around their breasts.

MONRO: What was your process on shoot day? Did you have a specific way of working with the women: guiding them on how to position themselves or was it more intuitive/organic? 

RANDALL: Prior to shooting, I researched 1920s pinup posters, which back then tended to be illustrated where a woman would pose for an artist. Typically, these depicted over-sexulaised images of women with small waists, large, pert breasts, and curvaceous buttocks. I was keen to flip the narrative and hijack these poses to depict real beauty so each woman was assigned a pose, which would celebrate their particularly unique breasts. Working with my co-director we then drew up 3-5 camera moves, which complemented the nuances of each set of breasts.

On the day of the shoot, I wanted the women to feel at ease and like they were entering a safe space where they could relax and let go of their inhibitions. For this reason, we had an all-female film crew, closed set, and music. The entire crew brought a great energy on set which made filming fun and laid back. With only 30 minutes per woman, we had to move fast, but working with 16mm film means you spend more time planning, and less time shooting as the film is so precious. Ailsa [Aikoa], our DP, was incredible and captured each of the ladies with a real sensitivity.

Working with real people, you need to be empathetic and nurturing when directing, so it was really important to develop a relationship with them ahead of the shoot. In addition to this, I was mindful that they were being asked to perform nude, which would make anyone feel vulnerable, so I was conscious to check in that they were feeling comfortable and maintained conversation throughout filming. 

MONRO: Can you tell me about your stylistic approach to the film set? 

RANDALL: The red backdrop was inspired by Playboy Magazine who adopted the color from its launch in 1953, and used it heavily throughout their sixty-seven years. It was featured on their iconic masthead within wardrobe as well as a backdrop behind scantily clad women. Through the use of this red-colored backdrop, I wanted to take the power of the Playboy red, a color used to promote sexualized imagery of women, and subvert its use to showcase real female beauty.

In addition to this, I used simple cuts of fabric to drape under or behind the women to create a softness to the environment that contrasted the crudeness of the audio voice messages. 

MONRO: You set up a hotline for teenage boys and young men (16 - 30) to share their answering machine messages on how they view breasts. Was it popular and were there any messages that stood out (for good and/or bad reasons?)

RANDALL: We received roughly 500 calls ranging from 5 seconds to 2 minutes. Some people just wanted to shout “tits” down the line, while others went into great depth sharing their unfiltered thoughts. It was a really intriguing and eye opening experience sifting through hours of audio ranging from the complimentary to the crude. There were also some very similar themes (unsurprisingly) most men seemed to like round, squashy, big, pert or jiggly breasts. There was also a couple who rang in that definitely sounded like they were getting off as the boy described his favorite breasts and a girl giggled in the background—it was all getting a little kinky before the line went dead.

MONRO: What were your biggest takeaways from the hotline and the messages that were left? 

RANDALL: People like to talk about breasts. Considering the limited distribution of the hotline posters, lots of people happily gave up their time to call in and share their views. It was interesting to discover this was clearly a subject matter that people want to express their opinion on. 

MONRO: What did you enjoy most about this creative project? 

RANDALL: The unknown. We were totally at the mercy of the material organically gathered.

MONRO: You recently became a mother. Did this experience impact/influence how you approached the film?

RANDALL: I was expecting a baby boy at the time of developing and filming TITS, and in the back of my mind I was wondering what kind of young man he will grow up to be, and whether he would be influenced by the world around him.

MONRO: Will there be a sequel to TITS

RANDALL: You Betcha! I can’t divulge too much, but I’ll just say we’re thinking of switching things up a bit.

The Way We Handle One Another: An Interview of Choreographer Holly Blakey

Photograph by Max Barnett


interview by Lara Monro

Born in Harrogate, North Yorkshire, Holly Blakey found contemporary dance as a teenager. After she was rejected by a number of well-known dance schools, she attended University of Roehampton where teaching dance was the only option. What was initially a devastating and painful life transition turned out to be a profound moment for Blakey, leading to a fruitful career as a choreographer. Free from the confines of institutional models and languages of dance, she created her own — one that advocates drama and our lived experiences. 

Honesty, intimacy, and a sense of community feed into her work, as does her fascination with music, film, and TV. Her ability to emulate pop culture has led Blakey to traverse multiple creative industries such as directing music videos for musicians who include Florence Welch and Coldplay. She also had a longstanding collaboration with the late fashion designer Vivienne Westwood, whose widower Andreas Kronthaler, has designed the costumes for the return of her performance of Cowpuncher My Ass. This Wild West dance show, scored by Mica Levi, takes the notion of the hyper masculine, yet camp cowboy, as a starting point to explore the archetypes of masculinity through non-linear perspectives.  

Cowpuncher My Ass will be playing at Royal Festival Hall, Southbank Centre, Wednesday 15 February at 7:30 pm. 

Autre’s London editor at large, Lara Monro, spoke with Blakey in between rehearsals to discuss how the performance challenges what might be deemed acceptable in choreography and much more. 

LARA MONRO: How would you say your transition from being a dancer to teaching has impacted your approach to choreography? 

HOLLY BLAKEY: Well, I think because it was so non-linear it meant I had to reframe what its potential could be and think of new ways of accessing it. I found a separate authenticity so that I could practice in a way that felt clear and realistic to who I was and what I was doing. It really did feel like the end of the world at the time because I'd danced all my life and I now think it was my biggest gift because I had to shift the way I was accessing things and I had to adjust my way of thinking. I think it's led to me have a practice that hasn't been so shaped by others. It’s allowed me to find my own language, I hope! So, I'm always quite grateful for that failure. 

MONRO: Where do your ideas often come from and what's the process there? 

BLAKEY: Well, I suppose like any kind of author, in a way it's about how you feel or experience life and the things you find sweet, or not. I'm more interested in people than I am in dancers or dancing, per say. I'm more interested in seeing the person within it. Even though I work with dancers, it's always about setting what the dancing is and then learning who the people are inside of the moving. That's what I'm most interested in. 

Photograph by Grace Horton

MONRO: So, when you are putting together a piece of choreography, how do you choose the dancers that you work with? 

BLAKEY: Well, the dancers I'm working with in Cowpuncher My Ass I've worked with for about ten years. Some of them since they were 18. So, we have a secret language, you know, and an understanding about what it is we're doing, or want to do. We share that feeling of rigor and I think they get me. With other dancers who might join the cast, it will be a more simple audition process. It will be logistical. 

MONRO: Cowpuncher My Ass stems from a fascination with the archetypal idea of the cowboy and themes of masculinity, right? 

BLAKEY: Right. It's mainly about people and the threat of masculinity being a loud voice within that. It isn’t about masculinity from one perspective. I remember speaking to my boyfriend recently and he said to me, “How do you think I feel when I walk down the street and I see a load of lads with their shirts off?” The idea and threat of masculinity is one that impacts all of us, you know? And sometimes we can forget that. So I suppose that although masculinity is vital in the conversation, it's about people, ultimately, and the way we handle one another.

MONRO: Can you tell me more about the choreographic style of the piece?

BLAKEY: What's important about Cowpuncher is that while a narrative is unraveling, at the same time, there is this confrontation with what's acceptable in choreography, what's acceptable to put on a stage, and what is dance. So, while we're having this conversation, we're also trying to look at what we can do as makers and to dismantle the ideas of expectation. There are so many different styles within one performance because we experiment so much. And it's also this idea of it being messy; that it doesn't have to be one specific style. It can be lots of different things. It's doesn't have to be linear. 

Photograph by Max Barnett

MONRO: How do you want your performances to impact your audience? 

BLAKEY: What I really want my work to do is to be like when you read an amazing book and you believe it's been written about you. You feel like what’s unfolding is about your own life—that you see yourself within it. That's the most important thing. And for it to feel like a shared experience. At the beginning of Cowpuncher, for example, we have the lights on, which is a lot about the audience feeling situated in what's going on, recognizing themselves in the space, you know, feeling the people who are sat next to them. The dancers are watching you, watching them, and there becomes this continual conversation. So, you're invited into the experiences of the dancers in a very intimate way. 

MONRO: What are your influences around that notion? Are there any in particular? 

BLAKEY: Well, I'm someone who's more interested in films and television than I am in dance. I go and watch a lot of dance, but I try to not think too hard about what other people are making choreographically. I like movies, I like cinematography. In a way I'm more inspired by capturing narrative. I recently spoke about the Sopranos. It is one of my favorite things ever to have experienced. It's those scenes with Tony and Carmela where they're just in the kitchen and they're moving around that really grab me the most. How, how do you create something so beautiful and simple and show people in such an amazing way? I'm kind of more interested in that. 

MONRO: I read that you want there to be a sense of community in your performances. Does this partly stem from your appreciation of club culture? 

BLAKEY: My first work that toured was called Some Greater Class (2012/2013). That was a lot about being in the club; this notion of social dancing. This sense of social dancing is a loud part of what I look at—I want to be able to articulate the power of this moment within a party or communal dance. 

MONRO: You talk about being influenced by TV— soaps, the Sopranos. How do you translate these into movement? 

BLAKEY: I think I'm trying to harness an idea: How does that make me feel? What does it remind me of? How does it relate to my past? What was that in my past? Why the need to recreate this? Where is all this sadness coming from? Why do I need to expel this feeling? How can I communicate this to a group of people? Oh, they understand too. They've experienced life. You know, it's like the looping of it all. So, it's about trying to execute that and let the dancers practice it; unravel it in their own kind of way to begin with and then, okay, this works, and then oh, what did you feel there? Okay. This reads like this to me. Try it like this. Try it like it's two o'clock in the morning. Try like your dog just died, you know? Okay, now I read this. There's a lot of drama. I love drama and I'm not afraid of drama. I had a very crucial conversation the other day with my friend Eve Stainton, the artist and performance maker, who helped me realize just how important drama is to me! I don't want to steer away from the feeling of things being dramatic. I want it to feel like that. Why shouldn’t we embrace it?

Photograph by Daniele Fummo

Wish You Were Here: An Interview of Heather Agyepong on Her Exhibition at the Centre for British Photography

 

The Body Remembers, Le Cake-Walk, Wish You Were Here, 2020 © Heather Agyepong

 

interview by Lara Monro
self-portraits by
Heather Agyepong

On Thursday 26 January The Centre for British Photography will open for the first time. Founded by the gallerist and philanthropist, James Hyman, the charitable organization will present free, self-generated exhibitions as well as those led by independent curators and organizations championing the work of British photographers. 

Hyman explains: “We hope that through this initial showcase to make a home for British photography we can, in the long run, develop an independent centre that is self-sustaining with a dedicated National Collection and public program.”

There will be two leading exhibitions, organized in partnership with Fast Forward Photography. Headstrong: Women and Empowerment celebrates photographers based in Britain who have made work concerned with how they are represented, what they are dealing with in their everyday lives and what it means to embrace diversities that challenge the conservative order of a patriarchal society. And, Images of the English at Home takes the viewer on a journey from the street, up the front steps, and into the private spaces of the living room, kitchen and bedroom before sending them out into the back garden. 

Alongside the exhibitions, The Centre will spotlight five British photographers as part of an In Focus display; Natasha Caruana, Jo Spence, Andrew Bruce, Anna Fox and Heather Agyepong

Autre’s London editor-at-large, Lara Monro, spoke with the multidisciplinary artist, Heather Agyepong, to discuss her body of work, Wish You Were Here. Commissioned by The Hyman Collection in 2019, the series explores the work of Aida Overton Walker, the celebrated African American vaudeville performer who challenged the rigid and problematic narratives of Black performers. 

LARA MONRO: Wish You Were Here pays homage to the work of Aida Overton Walker who was known as the Queen of the Cake-Walk. How and when did you first come across Walker’s work, and can you tell me more about the Cake-Walk?

HEATHER AGYEPONG: I came across the word Cake-Walk in a script I was reading, googled it, and saw a video of this dance with Black performers doing this high-kicked, structured dance but later found out that it was originally to mock slave owners. I thought to myself, there is a project there. A few weeks later, James Hyman wanted to meet to commission me for some work and proceeded to pour out these postcards of cake walk dancers! Some of the depictions were beautiful but a lot were racist and pretty disgusting. We later discovered someone called Aida Overton Walker who reimagined the dance and was celebrated as a Black, female performer who reclaimed the dance and filled it with grace, preciousness, and technicality. She was my anchor into the work, the woman I felt was calling out to me at the time to reclaim and take space.

Anne Mae,  Le Cake-Walk, Wish You Were Here, 2020 © Heather Agyepong

MONRO: Your images are layered with symbolism to illicit a conversation about the boundaries of how we see ourselves both in real and imagined realities. Can you tell me more about this and your specific use of symbolism?

AGYEPONG: A lot of the work is centered around pop culture references, memes, gifs and song lyrics very much present within the Black diasporic experience. For example, the triptych Anne Mae is a reference to the gif of Annalise Keating (played by Viola Davis) where she left a disrespectful conversation by rolling her eyes and taking her bag. For me especially as an actor, seeing a dark-skinned, Black woman know her worth and saying “No” unapologetically felt like something I wanted to channel for myself. The themes of the work focus on ownership, giving oneself grace and acknowledging the challenges of navigating creative spaces as a Black art maker. 

MONRO: As well as concepts of ownership and entitlement, the series explores mental wellbeing. Can you talk me through how you explored these themes through your images?

AGYEPONG: At the time of making the work, I was feeling a little lost and overwhelmed. My first major photographic series did really well (Too Many Blackamoors) but I kept being told to make work about race in a particular way. I was thinking two things: how do I make this career sustainable and survive? but how do I also retain my integrity and my intentions of making work to better understand myself? Overton Walker was the light at that moment; someone who survived and made a mark in an incredibly hostile environment where only limited embodiments of Black bodies were allowed on stage. She subverted, agitated, and pushed the boundaries of her limitations. Without figures like her, I wouldn't be where I am now. So, to honor that, I better damn well use my will as freely as possible.

 

Caucasian Chalk Circle, Le Cake-Walk, Wish You Were Here, 2020 © Heather Agyepong

 

A Spirit Of Generosity: An Interview Of Art Mentor Ceri Hand

Ceri Hand, Photo by Lorna Milburn


text by Lara Monro


From running a successful commercial art gallery to becoming Associate Director at Simon Lee Gallery and director of programs at Somerset House Trust, London, Ceri Hand, also known as the Artist Mentor, is championing a more holistic support framework for creative practitioners and professionals through her mentoring and coaching services. 

Lara Monro spoke with Hand about how her own experiences in the arts shaped her approach to mentoring and coaching, and why her upbringing instilled a level of responsibility in championing a more inclusive art world.  

Growing up in the Midlands, Hand was introduced to the importance of social justice and the need to support others from a young age. Her mother established and ran women's refuges and her father taught children with learning disabilities. While Hand came from a multi-racial family who combatted racism by achieving great success in business and embracing family, music and dance, she was confronted by the realities of prejudice from a young age:

As I've got older I've realised just how lucky I was to be influenced by my parents and wider extended family. From a young age there was a sense that it wasn't all about me. We would have people coming to stay all the time; my cousins, women from the refuge and their children, and all sorts of lodgers. It is interesting to reflect on my multicultural upbringing, growing up in the Midlands in the ‘70s, where riots and racism have been well documented. My uncle, who came to the UK from Jamaica when he was a kid, tackled racism by becoming a successful businessman. I was around seven when I fully understood what racism was. I was very lucky with my family, we were never made to feel different from one another. I think this also instilled a level of determination for social justice. Then of course, I began my journey into the arts where the disparities in equality and inclusion became very apparent. 

 

The Ghosts of Songs: A Retrospective of The Black Audio Film Collective, 2007, FACT
Curated by Anjali Sagar and Kodwo Eshun, Commissioned by Ceri Hand
Photo Brian Slater, Courtesy of FACT and the artists

 

After completing an Art Foundation course in Shrewsbury and art college in Bradford, Hand co-ran an artist cooperative called Quebec Street Studios before making her way to London where she secured an internship at Make, the magazine of women’s art. It is here that she met and worked with inspirational women such as Heidi Reitmaier, Althea Greenan and Nicky Hodge who shared her enthusiasm for exciting and diverse content; 

Heidi, the editor of Make was from Canada and really wasn't bogged down by the nonsense of the North/South divide or class systems in the UK. Coming from the Midlands, this meant a lot. The team were also amazing in how they championed women artists, such as Alexis Hunter, Maud Sulter and Sonia Boyce, who at the time had not yet been recognized for their incredible talent. Boyce was the first Black woman to represent Britain at the the Venice Biennale, winning the Golden Lion and she was notably represented by Simon Lee Gallery. 

Hand’s determination to showcase talent more representative of modern Britain continued throughout her roles in both the commercial and public art worlds. In 2007, when working as Director of Exhibitions at FACT Liverpool, Hand commissioned The Otolith Group (Kodwo Eshun and Anjalika Sagar) to curate the exhibition THE GHOSTS OF SONGS: A Retrospective on the Black Audio Film Collective 1982 - 1998 (touring to Arnolfini Gallery). Designed by David Adjaye of Adjaye Associates, it was the first retrospective to explore the significance of BAFC’s entire body of work exploring the personal and political in a new kind of international, experimental moving image work. 

The Ghosts of Songs: A Retrospective of The Black Audio Film Collective, 2007, FACT
Curated by Anjali Sagar and Kodwo Eshun, Commissioned by Ceri Hand
Photo Brian Slater, Courtesy of FACT and the artists

That exhibition was one of my proudest moments at FACT. Not only was it the first time the seven-person strong collective were given an institutional show, I  also worked with John Akomfrah, Lina Gopaul, and David Lawson on placing several works in the Tate collection, another first for a Black collective. Managing to bring Liverpool University Press on board as a partner to fund the book Ghosts of Songs, beautifully edited by Kodwo and Anjalika, including essays by Jean Fisher, Kobena Mercer and Okwui Enwezor, was also a huge moment in the realignment of understanding how Black archives were essential to readdressing history. At the time, it didn't seem like a major milestone, it felt like an amazing part of the job, but on reflection it was a big deal.  

Hand’s working relationship with the Black Audio Film Collective (BAFC) didn't end there. In 2019, when director of programs at Somerset House, she commissioned Zak Ové to curate the landmark exhibition Get Up Stand Up Now featuring a showreel of pioneering works by BAFC. The exhibition spanned art, film, photography, music, literature, design and fashion, celebrating fifty years of Black creativity in Britain and beyond. Through cultural exchanges and collaborations across the African diaspora, trailblazing creatives such as Armet Francis, Dennis Bovell, Althea McNish and Horace Ové were acknowledged for their commitment to changing the consciousness of British society. These themes extended out from the galleries into the courtyard, through a stand-out Summer Series of performances and Film 4 Summer Screen line-ups. The exhibition was designed by award-winning Yinka Ilori and Horace Ové received an OBE in 2021, for his contribution to film.

The Ghosts of Songs: A Retrospective of The Black Audio Film Collective, 2007, FACT
Curated by Anjali Sagar and Kodwo Eshun, Commissioned by Ceri Hand
Photo Brian Slater, Courtesy of FACT and the artists

While Hand is grateful for the opportunities she has had to work with inspiring creative agents of change, she is also transparent about her personal battles, including the loss of her father, an uncompromising workload and gender prejudice, all of which over time resulted in serious health issues. After much research and exploration into different therapeutic options, Hand is a fervent champion of seeking out help and support at every stage of our lives, from therapy to coaching:

Back when I was pursuing my career, we dealt with the challenges of a heavy workload and daily casual sexism by working even harder and adopting a mask. I now understand what impact these forms of structural racism, sexism and classism had on me, my friends, peers, and my family. Now, I understand how the body keeps the score. It all makes much more sense. On reflection, I didn't get the support I needed. I would get sick so often; the physical side of my trauma presented itself as glandular fever and chronic fatigue syndrome. 

Navigating her varied roles and personal battles whilst working in the arts, Hand began to recognize the lack of support systems available for creative professionals and artists: 

I’d worked so hard, so relentlessly for so many years, then after a major, life-threatening accident in 2019, I suddenly realized I had been working against my nature and was on top of the wrong mountain. Having an understanding of the amazing jobs that so many commercial galleries do for their artists, combined with the support that public commissioning bodies offer, I had a range and depth of insight into the fundamental support that is missing for so many of us in the creative sector.

Since 2020, Hand has supported thousands of creatives through mentoring and coaching services, her free newsletter, Beat the Block, delivering coaching support direct to people's inboxes, free monthly In Conversation events with established creative professionals and her blog, Elevation, aimed at demystifying the arts and lifting others up.

Fresh Trauma, Ceri Hand Gallery, London, 2013, Co-curated with Rebecca Lennon

In December this year, Hand will launch her new self-study digital course, How to Price and Sell Your Work: 5 steps to successful sales, for artists who want to earn a living doing what they love.

And in January, she will launch a new online coaching program and community platform for mid-career artists. For Hand, it is about creating an ecosystem where she can use her expertise and that of her associates to nurture an international community of artists and creatives who feel fully supported as they navigate their journey, be it for creative or professional development purposes:  

I want to encourage a spirit of generosity to combat the market driven meritocracy. I believe that everybody makes an important contribution, so I want to harness the community we’ve already built and champion a holistic approach to supporting creatives. You don't have to ruin yourself mentally and physically to have a successful career. Shifting how we think of ourselves, what we are capable of, and taking time to zoom out to acknowledge our own needs is necessary. I want to work with individuals to help them think about how we can change thought patterns and form new habits. But ultimately, I believe that creatives make the world a better place. We need them now more than ever to help us come up with creative solutions and to help us find joy along the way.

Ceri Hand, Photo by Lorna Milburn

Work Show Grow: The Online Educational Platform Paving the Way for a More Inclusive Art World

interview by Lara Monro

Becoming a successful artist has a reputation for being especially challenging; creating a strong presence online, building a creative network, connecting with galleries and art institutions, placing your work in collections (private and public), and of course making money. The comprehensive Livelihoods of Visual Artists Report from December 2018, for example, showed that artists earn on average as little as £16,150 per annum in the UK, with only 36% of that attributable to income from their practice. Unfortunately, this has not changed over the last four years. Whats more, if we take into consideration the gender pay gap, which in April 2020, was recorded as 15.5%, a female artist’s average annual salary is recorded at an alarming £13,355. 

Natasha Caruana, an award-winning and internationally recognized visual artist, photographer and educator, founded the online educational platform and community, Work Show Grow, as an alternative way of supporting artists in their professional and creative development. 

Frustrated by the traditional framework of art school where grades and deadlines define success, Caruana believes a more collaborative and community focused approach is far more productive. Since 2018 Work Show Grow has championed the progression of its members creative work, demonstrating that this can be achieved through supportive online teaching, in ways that can be fun, untraditional and effective.  

Caruana has organized a Creative Retreat that will take place at Colehayes Estate, South Devon, UK, from September 19 - 23. It will be a unique opportunity for creative practitioners and the art-curious to connect, collaborate and create amongst the twenty hectares of natural landscape —  from woodland, marshland and freshwater habitats of the stream and lake. In between breakfast, lunch, and dinner (cooked by a private chef using local produce) the retreat will offer a diverse range of talks and workshops with well-respected guest speakers and facilitators such as newly appointed National Curator of Contemporary Art Forestry England, Louise Fedotov-Clements and artist Ibrahim Azab.

Since becoming a mother in 2021, Natasha advocates a more accessible art world where artists who are parents and caretakers should be considered. Private viewings, for example, are often held at the same time as bath/bedtime. Perhaps they could be during the day or over weekends? In May, Caruana explored these issues, and how she balances her work/parenting roles, with art critic and author of On Art and Motherhood, Hettie Judah, as part of the (Re) Production: Parenting and the art world online symposium. 

The Creative Retreat at Colehayes is a continuation of Caruana’s support for a more progressive art world as she offers accommodation for up to four families as well as child-friendly activities. Hopefully this can be a useful framework that can be prescribed to more artist residencies and other areas within the arts, to pursue the support of parenting and caretaking artists. 

Caruana shared with Autre her inspiration behind establishing Work Show Grow, as well as some of its biggest challenges and rewards to date and a few of her goals for the platform's future. 

 
 

LARA MONRO: You founded WSG in 2018. What inspired you to start the online educational platform? 

NATASHA CARUANA: I started Work Show Grow very spontaneously as a way to teach more artists a professional practice of how you can set yourself up. There is no road map to success and often art schools don’t properly equip artists with learning about funding, getting their name out there, etc. I’m passionate to support artists at whatever stage they are at on their journey. Traditional art education is based on deadlines and grades, which can often result in competitive environments. I wanted to create a supportive community space in which artists can thrive. 

During the pandemic, with so many exhibitions and opportunities cancelled for my own art practice I threw myself into supporting others and Work Show Grow blossomed. In September 2020, what were initially monthly workshops happening in person in my studio evolved to become the online school which it is today.

MONRO: What have been the biggest challenges and rewards since setting out on your mission with WSG?

CARUANA: Seeing the progress of Work Show Grow artists has been incredible and is a daily reward. Many creatives come to the school with a burning desire to get back to their creative side. Or they have pursued other work and know that there is a future artist in them. The feedback has been fantastic and we have 100 artists from approximately thirty different countries. They are all connected and together support each other in their creative journeys. It's inspiring to watch. 

Now that the world is starting to slowly return to normality, it's definitely a juggle between my own work, Work Show Grow, my academic post, and becoming a new mum. Luckily, I share the running of the school with my husband, Simon, who is a fantastic producer. He keeps everyone on track. We have also made a couple of hires. I really value work life balance so having support in the background is very important, or we could easily end up working every hour of the day! 

MONRO: What three words would you use to best summarize what WSG stands for? 

CARUANA: Community, Creativity, and Support

MONRO: The 2022 Creative Retreat is the second iteration of your WSG annual artist residency. What were the main reasons for starting these annual trips?

CARUANA: I wanted to create an accessible residency program for both artists and the art curious — one that isn't intimidating, or requires a huge application form, or payment. After spending two years online it’s an opportunity to bring people together in a fun and relaxed environment. As an artist myself, I definitely need this for my own creative cup. I want everyone to go back to their corner of the world fulfilled, inspired, and ready to take the next steps in their work. It’s a moment when artists or the art-curious can create, play, and connect outside of their usual day-to-day.

MONRO: This year you have decided to make the retreat accessible to artists who are parents/caretakers. What were your main motivations around doing this? 

CARUANA: Everyone should be playing a role in making the art world more accessible. Offering an environment which welcomes artist parents is my way of contributing to this. I recently took part in an online symposium funded by Arts Council England and produced by one of our Work Show Grow artists, Andrea Allen. I participated in a session with the writer Hettie Judah, who is an incredible advocate for artist parents. This opened my eyes to needing to do more. 

MONRO: What are you most excited about at this year’s retreat? 

CARUANA: I’m so excited to spend a week in twenty hectares of private countryside, which surrounds the stately home that the retreat is taking place in. To be able to stroll to our private lake and take a dip in between workshops is going to be magical! I literally can’t wait! I love to cook so I’m also looking forward to our group dinners and evenings around the fire pit. 

MONRO: What would you say are some of the biggest challenges of being a parent and juggling your creative and professional roles?

CARUANA: The lack of time and headspace is the most challenging juggle so far. It's really hard to peel yourself away from baby cuddles to go and tackle your inbox! I haven't found the answers yet. Each day seems to be different as Suki develops so you need to embrace going with the flow! 

MONRO: Where would you like to see Work Show Grow in the next five years and what do you want your artist residencies to look like?

CARUANA: I would like Work Show Grow to still be supporting artists and for more people to know about our great community. We have big ambitions for an international residency program, a school that has different pathways. And I’d love to put on a Work Show Grow artist event at the Tate! 

MONRO: What would your advice be for new mothers who are also artists and determined to maintain their creative practice? 

CARUANA: I feel forming a community around you is so important. It's common to create a mum community, but I would also say try to add a couple of mum artists in there too. Being an artist parent is so nuanced and difficult for others to understand. At Work Show Grow we have a number of artist parents and it's humbling to see how they can lean on us for support. 

To Erase a Cloud: An Interview Of Jim Longden Following The Release Of His Debut Short

TEAC STILL AUTRA 5 (1).jpg

interview by Lara Monro
photographs by Domino Leaha

The London-based artist Jim Longden has released his debut short, To Erase a Cloud. Shot on 16mm film, the twenty-minute piece is “a sort of crash-course to the introductions of filmmaking.” To Erase a Cloud delves into the harsh realities of grief. The poet and actor Sonny Hall, a good friend of Longden, plays the painfully tormented, reckless and broken main protagonist, John Little.

The opening scene shows Little living a depressing existence in his dirty apartment; drinking dregs of empty beer cans and lighting half smoked fags as the early morning sun seeps in. We catch Little staring at his reflection in a cracked mirror; a symbol for his fractured state of mind and the result of his self-inflicted isolation spurred on from the loss of his mother.

We meander from the realities of Little’s daily existence, which includes taking a drunken cab to his mother’s grave, robbing a porno from the local off-licence, and surreal dream sequences that question the perception of Little’s reality. The poetic filmwork was made by Longden during the height of the covid pandemic. Although it may seem a desperate state of affairs, Longden manages to find beauty in the bleakness. As the saying goes; without darkness there is no light. To Erase a Cloud highlights humanity’s resilience to carry on.

On a recent trip to Italy, Longden was shot by the Italian photographer, Domino Leaha for his interview with Autre. He is currently traveling around Europe, writing his next film.

LARA MONRO: Can you tell me about your most recent filmic work, To Erase a Cloud

JIM LONGDEN: It’s a film about a young man being at that age when he should be passing the stage of the growing-but-stained teenager he was before, and to now be at the stage of finally entering adulthood. He is in this awkward middle, between his teenage angst, and his ongoing frustration and bitterness for the world and it’s ways. His mother not being alive, and him not being around her often during his younger teenage years, has left the character in this wayward mould of growing and developing. The character has a menacing side to him, but holds this poetic, and theatrical demeanor at the same time. We see the raw sides of his persona, but also hear from the mind which he holds. 

We shot it in the year 2020; during the time of the pandemic. The film held this atmosphere of being set in an almost deserted ghost-town area, which resembled points of reality near to those times. I had written and directed the film when I was twenty, it was to me, a sort of crash-course to the introductions of filmmaking. The shooting was a three-day experience which I learned a lot from. I found the possible perception of the more experienced members of the team interesting, because of the fact that they were seeing people acting on screen for their first times, whilst also being directed by a director who had never directed before! I see the film almost as being the equivalent to a student film, a directorial debut. And, in that sense, I am pleased with the outcome. 

 
 

MONRO: The main protagonist is the poet, Sonny Hall. How did you come to cast Hall in the film?

LONGDEN: Sonny has been a friend of mine for years. I knew he would be able to also help me with parts of the writing within it. And, he held a willingness to do things on camera, which I felt other’s may not have felt comfortable doing. Those stunts like him running into the car door of Benny Benson, and him punching the mirror after slapping himself as he faces it, were tough to see for certain people. When doing the rehearsals for that scene of him and Benny, he kept diving into the damn door in the run-throughs, we did not have a stunt supervisor present at any moment. He ended up limping for a few days after, but it was good to see this devotion from him. 

MONRO: To Erase a Cloud feels surreal in the moments when we find ourselves inside the tormented mind of the protagonist. Can you tell me more about these creative scenes and your treatment for these?

LONGDEN: Trying to make this film as good as it could be, while sticking to a very low budget was tricky. The access we had to certain locations was limited, so I had to almost treat it as if it were a theatrical story being told on the stage. I think the cinematography matched what sort of themes and styles we were aiming for. The music too, in my eyes added this blanket to the film. We used music made by Matt Elliott for the soundtrack. I had been a fan of his for years from when Sonny introduced me to his music. I also added in two guitar pieces I had created for the original score.

MONRO: Was the film mainly script-based or did you rely on improvisation? 

LONGDEN: The story was mainly script-based. At a certain point, we had just enough time to fit in a newly thought up scene, which we rushed to film. And at another point, a scene we planned had to be cut due to it not working. Scenes like the Benny Benson one, had many improvised lines on his part, and certain movements as mentioned previously, could only be performed once, due to others being worried about the rightful code of health and safety. There are a lot of give and takes, sometimes they help, sometimes they don’t. The opening dance scene was an idea Sonny came up with, and on the day we were only able to film it in two takes.… Within a moment like that, the outline of the scene is there, but the rest is out of control, it is up to the subject to perform. We spent quite a while tweaking, adding, removing, changing things in the script, but at times, that could make one’s mind go around in circles. So, in that sense, I had to be careful and trust my instinct. 

MONRO: Do you have a favourite scene, or are there any that stand out most to you for any particular reason?

LONGDEN: I liked the writing in the scene where we enter the mind of Johnny Little. I also enjoy watching the dream sequence he has.

MONRO: It seems you mainly work with film and photography. Have these always been your preferred mediums? 

LONGDEN: Yes, they have. I had swerved within different lanes after leaving school, to survive and to keep myself busy. But, when I was younger, I wanted to become a professional football player. And when that dream faded, I was saved by the thrill of wanting to take photos and make films. 

MONRO: Are there other mediums you would like to introduce into your creative practice?

LONGDEN: Maybe joining a Gypsy guitar band or something? 

MONRO: Your website also features clothing. When did you first venture into fashion, and can you tell me what CAPO stands for? 

LONGDEN: The clothing is merely merchandise, which is how I am able to keep my stomach full.

MONRO: You left school at sixteen to follow your creative pursuits. Did you face difficulties infiltrating the creative world as a self-taught artist/filmmaker? 

LONGDEN: I wouldn’t say difficulties, I was more just upset at the fact that I didn’t know who to trust. I didn’t know what was real or not. I didn’t want to play snakes and ladders. I was at a blossoming, but vulnerable age, and didn’t want to have the blood sucked from me. I wanted to stay true to what I believed in, but at the same time, I needed to be able to move forward. It was an experience, that’s for sure. 

MONRO: Are you working on anything else at the moment?

LONGDEN: Over the past few years, I have been taking photographs for a book I want to create. It holds the working title, Where You Are When You Don’t Know Where You Are?. I really look forward to being at that blissful moment when I think the book is ready and complete. 

I also started writing passages, for what can maybe one day become a book. I am not certain of this happening any time soon though, I think I need more time to develop my writing before releasing it. But, it’s in motion, currently holding the working title of, Memoirs of a Balloon.

Love & Action: An Interview Of Director Fiona Jane Burgess

interview by Lara Monro

Fiona Jane Burgess, UK-based film director specializing in music videos, commercials, documentaries and fashion films, owes much of her career success to experiencing a number of challenges. Burgess found herself having to rethink her career path at 28, a time when she was also facing the realities of motherhood and the breakup of her band, Woman’s Hour. Fortunately, her natural flare as a director, which she exercised when shooting her own music videos, determined her career segue into film direction. Since delving into the film industry, Burgess has worked on diverse campaigns that span music videos, personal projects, and working with the UK’s No.1 baby feeding brand, Tommee Tippee, as well as some of fashion’s most recognized names, including Gucci and Burberry. 

A proud feminist, Burgess is attracted to projects that empower women and provoke debate, amongst many other themes and subjects. COVID-19 highlighted the economic constraints faced by women in the workplace and their predicament of being expected to sacrifice their own economic viability to provide care at home. Burgess recently posted on Instagram around the need to empower working mothers. She spoke passionately to Autre about the response to her recent post, a new film she’s directed for Nowness X AGL, motherhood, and the collective power of sisterhood.  

LARA MONRO: It is great to be speaking with you full stop and also timely given the amazing response you have received to your recent Instagram post around women in the workplace and childcare. Did you expect this reaction? 

FIONA JANE BURGESS: My mind is blown! I am so humbled by the response. These conversations aren't new, we just so rarely have them openly. For this reason, Instagram can be a powerful platform as it provides the ability to have these sorts of debates, and most importantly, allows others to see them. The burden of childcare on anyone is mammoth. This is bringing to the forefront what it means to be a parent in the film industry, but also the workplace at large. It shows the evident gender inequality that exists and that women are expected to take on the burden of childcare. It is comforting to know what I am saying resonates with so many, but at the same time, deeply frustrating and saddening as so many women feel stuck and trapped. One message that really resonated touched on the creative industry, where for many it isn't just about a financial incentive, but it’s also driven by passion and creative need. When women are forced out of these roles, their mental health suffers as a consequence of not having a creative outlet. This can provoke feelings of guilt, that being a mother isn't good enough. I can fully associate myself with this. I am a mother, but am not first and foremost a mother. It is part of my makeup but it is not my whole, and anyone who wants to simply label me as a mother is missing the point. I have so many different needs. I don't need to just give and receive love from my children. When women become mothers their identity gets put on hold. I disagree with that. How we facilitate mothers in the workplace is an essential, ongoing, question as we work to achieve gender equality.

MONRO: You changed professions at 28, the same year you became a mother to twins and ended up leaving your music career. How did you make the jump into moving image? 

BURGESS: When you become a mother, your identity comes into question and everything is focused on the baby. I needed more of a purpose. I was left completely questioning everything after the band broke up as it was so important for me to have my work and role. Around this time a few people asked me to make music videos for them since I had for Woman’s Hour. It made sense for me to do it for the band as it saved money, but I never saw it as a profession! Then, I did it and the penny dropped! It was a really exciting time and everything fell into place. It wasn't easy though. I threw myself into the new industry, but felt so out of my depth. It is such a big industry and I had no connections. I felt alone again in it and all I had was a burning desire and a small seed of self belief—and a very supportive partner. I began my journey. I hadn't pitched before, Suddenly I was sent briefs to pitch on and had to write treatments, which I had also never done. It was a good learning curve but at the same time, after a few months of rejection, I stopped pitching. I realized that I didn't have a crew of people I trusted and wanted to work with. So, I decided to connect with creatives that I did want to work with. It evolved from there. I met a choreographer online and we self-funded a film together. I directed and edited it and this allowed me to get an idea of what my interests were and what I wanted! Personally, my experience of having children was a very traumatizing one, but it also released a crazy energy in me; a desire to have a voice and not shy away from who I am. I was much less willing to compromise on my own happiness. I think this really helped me get to where I wanted to be.

MONRO: You recently directed a short film for Nowness X AGL. It is set within the recognizable, brutalist structure of the Tate Modern and your overarching theme is centered around an anthology of feminist writings from the 1970s Women’s Liberation Movement. Can you tell me more about that?

BURGESS: Yes. The [Feminist] Manifesto was a seminal piece in the feminist movement and allowed women from all walks of life to discuss their own experiences of womanhood; both positive and negative, and what they felt needed to change to create gender equality. There are so many differences between women, to collectively call women one thing is wrong. We aren't first and foremost anything. I don't have sisters (I have 3 brothers!) but in a wider context the sisters I choose—who I am collectively connected to—it felt that the manifesto tied in beautifully with what I was trying to get across through the film.

MONRO: How would you say the film embraces sisterhood? 

BURGESS: When I was invited to be part of this it was apparent that my role was not only to facilitate the technical aspect, but also to create a crew and a collective of people who would also input. It felt like the perfect opportunity to call on my sisterhood and embrace the power of our collectivity. I am so often trying to empower and connect with other female creatives, so with this film I ran with that opportunity. I didn't want the theme to be surface level, but part of the process. 

MONRO: The singer & songwriter, Lapsley, created a voiceover specifically for the film; can you tell me how this collaboration came about? 

BURGESS: I am such a fan of hers. Her album was the soundtrack to my 2020. It includes a number of songs around her experiences of being a woman, so I knew she would be interested in the theme. I sent her the Gloria Steinem quote: “Any woman who chooses to behave like a full human being should be warned that the armies of the status quo will treat her as something of a dirty joke. She will need her sisterhood,” and she came back to me with a beautiful song and very powerful voiceover for the film:

“We run in cycles, chase the morning, pave the way like those before them. It's love and action and its gaining traction This beauty is beyond the surface. She reminds me of my purpose when I feel worthlessness. Its like good love, my sisterhood.”

MONRO: You worked with the choreographer Alex Green, referencing the work of 1970s postmodern choreographers Trisha Brown, Simone Forti and Yvonne Rainer. Can you say how you incorporated their approach to dance as a visual manifestation of stability and strength through focusing on the subtlety of physical support?

BURGESS: I am very inspired by choreographers from the 1970s. If I could go back to one time it would be 1970s New York! Trisha Brown, Simone Forti and Yvonne Rainer were all doing different things, but generally questioning traditional balletic gestures and adopting more everyday gestures. With Trisha Brown, I took a lot of inspiration from her Leaning Duet piece as I often think the simple ideas are the best. This is a great example of that. For me, her choreography pieces are visual manifestations of the simplicity of human support. I wanted to include the three female dancers as AGL was started by three women. And I also wanted to highlight the difficulty of holding a position for a long time, to signify stillness as a symbol for strength. I am interested in creating moments of connection between women that relies on physical balance and support; this idea that if they were to let go they would fall. I also wanted this to show physical manifestations of support structures, of invisible reliance on one another, and to show that—even without knowing—we sometimes rely on the work of others. I think that collective sisterhood is so integral to gender equality as we have a duty and responsibility to hold each other up. To push and challenge one another. In my mind, it's using bodies to embody cultural messages. Distribution of weight is quite difficult: getting the balance right is hard! The simplest things require a lot. Focus and harmony are dependent upon everybody who is involved; giving and receiving the weight, the burden and the responsibility. This is what drew me to this concept. 

MONRO: It seems you always bring a personal element to the films you work on. Your recent film for Jo Malone Hope Blooms, for example, shines a light on the charities supported by the brand (Thrive and St Mungo’s) and their horticultural therapy programmes for people who are homeless, or struggling with their mental health in some way. How do you decide on your projects? 

BURGESS: Every project is different and has varied requirements, but there has to be a personal and emotional connection. The Jo Malone piece, that was amazing, as on a personal level, I am open about having been in therapy for most of my adult life, and have benefited from being privileged enough to spend that time and energy on myself. I trained in Applied Theatre and worked in a number of community spaces; using art for social change. That is my background and I still host workshops in an adolescent psychiatric unit to support young people who are either in or out patients struggling with mental health issues. My work aims to have a positive interaction that communicates a positive experience.

MONRO: A number of your films have been shot in 16mm including High Snobiety X Gucci, Nowness X AGL and Hope Blooms for Jo Malone. What draws you to the medium? 

BURGESS: Whenever I can, I shoot on film. I would say I am leaning more and more towards just working with the medium. I am drawn to film’s imperfections, its risks, uncertainty, and spontaneity. Also, there is a tactility to the physical process that excites me. My uncle ran a photographic shop so everyone who needed film developed would go to Quick Snaps. When I was a teenager and learning about cameras—I got an SLR from him and I would take pictures of my friends/landscape—every Saturday I would drop off and pick up a roll of film. That physical exchange and process was special. Respecting the process and the time that goes into it, the physical labor—that is powerful. There is also an element of nostalgia. I will always have that connection to film as part of my history and love of cinema and photography: the physical imagery.