You mentioned that you tend to work with a lack of preparation and/ trust, would you say that you find it helps the substance of what you create, as it is more of a fleeting piece? (Like when you overheard your flatmate say “there’s a fig tree on fairy lane”) Do you think it is more impactful on the viewer?
It definitely helps keep me interested in what I’m making, that’s for sure. If I try to plan too much, I can get overwhelmed and then bored. I sometimes think of it as being therapeutic, because it allows me to comfortably let go of control, which is something I’d quite like to do in my everyday life, but never can! It also helps me to find new things to be excited about, so I guess it does help the substance of what I make because it stops it from being rigid and uninspired.
You reference music a lot when discussing your work. In more detail, how would you describe your relationship to music when creating?
I was really aware of this during the residency, and hadn’t really given it much thought before, but yes, I guess music plays a huge part in my process. Lots of what I’ve made has been influenced by songs in some way, whether by lyrics that I can’t get out of my head, or a beat that just makes me want to boogie. I usually have music on while I’m making, as it helps to fuel the process by either soothing or invigorating me, depending on what I need that day!
In your residency you mention your tutor making a crude remark regarding the black figure in art (which is something that I somewhat experienced myself with a tutor) and that this is you developing an identity as an artist, but would you also class your blue netting/movement images as a form of subtle protest?
I’m sorry that happened to you too! Yeah, I do, especially in retrospect. At the time, I wanted to hold onto this idea of making ‘art for art’s sake’, which felt like an act of subtle protest in its self – against the idea that there had to be some high concept behind art for it to be enjoyable. But when I look at those photos now, it feels like there’s more than that in the sense of defiance I get from them. I was aware that by putting myself into my images, I was letting go of any anonymity I might have had. Which yes, feels like a form of subtle protest – to proudly say “I am here, whether you like it or not.
I really like how you approach movement in your work, as even when the image is still, there is still a sense of movement on display. I also noted that you like to make much of your work interactive. How are you approaching this style of working now, considering that there is less invitation for close gatherings/gallery openings etc.? (I noticed you had made a flip book of your images with the blue netting, which I personally felt made me feel more included in the movement with you flipping the pages.)
I actually had to consider this while making We Can Still Dance for the BLM Mural trail. Jupiter Artland had given me a couple of options for what could be displayed, so I had to work within the parameters of a billboard structure while trying to maintain my own artistic sensibilities. I settled on having two billboards at an angle so that people could feel like they were in a semi-separate space. While you stand in front of it, you have to move around to take it all in. While I was there one day, I saw someone walk right into the corner and back again, which was pretty cool to see that kind of interaction. Loads of people were coming up to it from behind and sticking their heads through the holes, which I hadn’t intended, but it was really exciting to see this extra layer of interaction. It’s quite exciting to think of all these new ways we can make work which is interactive without touching. I’d like to develop my Dance with me project some more as I think that would fit this no-touching-interaction thing quite well. Also, it’s interesting what you say about the flip-book. I hadn’t thought of it like that before, but I guess it adds an extra layer of movement to it. It also acts a little like a beat, meaning that flipping through it is almost a musical process.
Lastly, how closely do you regard your enjoyment for both being able to dance and move freely + recording your movements, with your sense of self and your sense of blackness? Considering again your negative experience with a tutor, do you find that this previous experience impacts this style of working? I can imagine it must feel quite liberating to simply be and have the freedom to move and express yourself as you please.
Dancing has been such a huge part of my life for as long as I can remember. I grew up listening to Gwana, Reggae and Funk music, so there was often dancing in my house. My dad particularly loves dancing, and I remember often being embarrassed when we were at parties with white people, and my dad would be flailing around uninhibitedly amongst a sea of comparative stillness. Over time, however, he inspired me to give into the itch to dance and let go of any embarrassment. When we’re in Morocco, dancing is a pretty standard expression of joy. This is vital for me, as there’s something so special and beautiful about the expression of Black joy, particularly when the media bombards us with images of Black suffering. As you say, it is so liberating to dance freely, and by including that in my art, it feels like a reclamation of my right to dictate my own path. I’ve spent years adjusting myself to conform to and assimilate with the predominantly white culture I’ve grown up in outside of my home, and in doing so have stifled huge parts of myself, but I’m breaking out of that now. In a way, it’s as though the freedom of uninhibited dancing is teaching me to embrace the freedom of uninhibited being.
You can see Saoirse‘s and Holly‘s Forest Arts digital residencies on our instagram page and follow both artists there.
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