March madness
A challenge for anyone with a studio, lessons learnt in 24 hours and 24 years, the recs for what to listen to, what to read, and what to visit.
Hello and happy Friday!
Well well well, if it isn’t little miss “I’ll post at least once a week if not more”. After a 3 week hiatus from this lovely corner of the internet, I am back.
In case you missed recent events…
TikTok army of content creators protested a possible ban in the U.S.
The Royal Family’s press team released a doctored photo of Princess Catherine (I have my theories).
The world celebrated women for just one day before usual service resumed and Diane Abbot promptly faced yet more horrific racist abuse. My colleague Nadia said it best when reflecting on the week, “I have felt rage, indignation, hope, sadness, have been inspired and reminded that the work continues.”
The work does indeed continue. Happy Women’s History Month, and happy belated International Women’s Day - women are magnificent beasts, and we’ve got sh*t to do. Oh and if you fancy a lunchtime gallery trip to soak up the art of women drop me a message. I’ll send you an invite.
I come to you with three weeks’ worth of art that I have seen, felt, and that which has floated intangibly around me like the Spring air which is drifting upon this green and pleasant land. Over the next few days, in a couple of writings to you, I will devote space to:
🇦🇹 Vienna: the art seen and unseen
👀 The exhibitions that are on my radar this weekend, what I’m reading and listening to, and the people you need to be following!
🚀 24 lessons that I have learnt in 24 years.
🌻 Some thoughts about artists and creative practice derived from recent studio visits and a mentoring event at the V&A
Ok, let’s get into this one. A challenge for anyone with a studio, some lessons learnt in 24 hours and 24 years, and what I’m consuming.
The Studio
The studio is a sacred space - brutally challenging, terrifying, somewhere to take a nap, infinitely reviving. I’ve been invited to three in the last three weeks. I arrived at the first in running kit scoffing Percy Pigs with a stomach rumbling so loudly it can be heard in the voice note recording of our conversations. Not unusual.
Eva Dixon is an artist known for her paintings which ‘look like they could take a hike’ (the words of a collector which have made such an impression on Eva that she would probably use it as the title for a book about her work. It’ll have to be the next book. The first one is in motion, and I’m writing a piece for it, hence the voice note of our conversation).
Eva and I first met in 2018, in the clammy rooms of Central Saint Martin’s Archway campus reserved for Foundation students - lure them in with the Kings Cross campus and then banish them for a year to toughen them up. It was tough, in a glorious and giddy way. I’d turn up in suits and spray-paint an old block of wood, sit and read with sunglasses on whilst being painted, and scribble poems with charcoal on the MDF studio walls. We’d go to pubs at lunch, I’d drink lemonade and then shandy, and we’d buy loaves of bread and teabags from Lidl.
Eva and I became friends on the first day. I heard the Aussie accent, “My dad’s from Brisbane” I said. We became friends. Colleagues. It’s stayed that way since. Eva has ambitions for her work, it’s going places with or without her (and it will be hiking there). You get the sense, in her studio/ workshop of a quiet strength, a determined corralling of wild ideas, materials, visions.
That’s all you’ll get on Eva for now, I won’t spill our conversations about making mechanically, gender, sexuality, sustainable practice, or neurodivergence as a practitioner. You’ll have to buy the book. You can preorder here, and follow her on Instagram here.
The second and third studios that I visited were both in the capacity of 121 coaching sessions - both artists fed me pastries (an unspoken rule? I won’t protest). I’m going to set them, and you, and me in fact, a challenge:
Write a letter to your studio. A love letter, a hate letter, a letter of petition or apology, a letter airing grievances or perhaps one of gratitude.
Let me know how you get on.
The Recs:
Reading 📖
“What is Black Art?” - an exceptionally comprehensive anthology exploring Black art in 1980s Britain, with the voices of Sonia Boyce, Lubaina Himid, Eddie Chambers, and Rasheed Araeen. It resurrects forgotten dialogues, reexamining the term 'Black art' and its significance in challenging art institutions. I picked it up at the National Portrait Gallery and have been carefully consuming it. Essential reading to understand contemporary British art.
This discussion of memory, homeland, dispersion and displacement. “In a 2021 interview with ARTNews, Morsi compared the experience of leaving Alexandria for Baghdad to cutting his umbilical cord.”
This by
The Fourth Plinth has been comissioned to Tschabalala Self, a 2020 interview came across my lap this week and I will read anything about her over and over.
Listening to 🎶
This conversation which opened up a lot of dialogue online about the #tradwife trend and glamorising women having no control of household finances or decisions outside the domestic. Conversation thread here.
A love letter to Philip Guston. The White Pube don’t miss. A great listen.
This conversation about art and activism and the current London exhibition showcasing that.
An interesting take on pricing artworks.
Art-ing 🖼️
I went to The Time is Always Now: Artists Reframe the Black Figure, The National Portrait Gallery (Soho) (£5 tickets if you are under 25, and pay as you wish over some weekend hours). Video tour here.
Maja Djordjevic, “Hope and Rebirth”, Carl Kostyal (Mayfair) closes tomorrow - it’s brilliant.
Some exhibitions I’m planning to see over the weekend, if you’re in London take them as your recs and if you’re not… I’ll give you the lowdown on my Instagram. (All shows are free unless stated).
HelenA Pritchard, “The Homeless Mind”, TJ Boulting (Fitzrovia)
Group Show, “In Colour”, Haricot Gallery (Shoreditch)
Yan Ping, “Love Between A Fish and A Bird”, Massimo de Carlo (Mayfair)
Ellie MacGarry, Echo, Cedric Bardiwell (Soho)
As always, I use Art Rabbit to find most exhibitions… so do have a look in your area! I also look at
, Seb’s Art List, and the Professional Art Bullshitter’s broadcast channel on Instagram.Bonus: Watch The New Look on Apple TV about Christian Dior in the war years. Stunning.
Lessons from 24 hours and 24 years.
Last Thursday I ran a cool 24km and then ran (with an exceptional team) an event for 130 people. On Friday I turned 24, on IWD, and in true international woman style got on a plane to Vienna at 6 am. ✈️
3 things that stood out to me in that 24 hours.
Context.
The event: The celebration of the partnership between SHiFT and Manchester City Council, supported by Greater Manchester Violence Reduction Unit. Together, through SHiFT Manchester, we are doing whatever it takes to break the destructive cycle of children caught up in, or at risk of, crime, focusing especially on preventing children from being remanded. We know that children who are Black, Brown or Mixed Heritage are over-represented in the youth justice system and together, we are determined to change this.
1. Do whatever it takes.
I’m pretty well suited to life at SHiFT. Our tagline is ‘doing whatever it takes’, and that’s kind of how I live my life. In those 24 hours, I did whatever it took to meet my needs and wants, and the needs and wants of the event. Doing whatever it took to get the best outcome included prioritising my sleep and fuel (eat enough and sleep enough), careful planning, leaning into others, being proactive, rolling with the punches, eating last, and washing up wine coolers to use as vases.
I’ve been chewing everyone’s ear off lately with an anecdote about the Top Gun movie being fully supplied with ships and aircraft by the US Royal Navy… the bottom line?
Anything you need or want is only a few conversations away.
2. Sweat the small stuff.
We had 200 personalised cookies. We had dozens of bunches of tulips picked up the night before. We had agenda cards, we had meetings upon meetings in the months leading up.
The result? It was seamless. It surprised people (tough crowd won over!). Someone asked if I could organise their son’s wedding. This event was more than a mark in the sand, it was laying down concrete foundations that we are already building on for hopeful and radically ambitious outcomes for children. It really mattered, so everything about it mattered.
3. Be prepared and then be flexible.
My body was prepared, my mind was prepared, and the team was prepared. Some of our ordered assets didn’t show up, we had people who hadn’t RSVP’d, and the speakers finished earlier than expected - we pivoted, we adapted, and we honestly weren’t phased. The Vienna trip was a gorgeous surprise, and because of the levels of preparedness existing in my life, the revelation that I’d have to get up at 4am (for an unknown destination …. what’s the climate? Umbrella or swimmers??) when I was shattered at 9pm on Thursday eve didn’t bother me. I leant into the excitement, I slept on cue, and I detached my mind for 4 days to soak up history and art and pancakes.
On that run, I considered 24 lessons that I have learnt in the last 24 years.
They came thick and fast. Here they are, I think they’re pretty self-explanatory but I’d be happy to unpack any of them with anecdotes and references, just let me know.
Optional additions include “take your meds” and “don’t get a haircut when you’re sad" and one that feels particulary relevant as my phone is on it’s very last legs, “bite the bullet and buy a new phone when yours has half of the screen missing and the sweat from your palms causes the picture to glitch”.
and just like that…we’ve made it to the end. Next up: The lowdown on Vienna 🇦🇹
Thanks for spending your time with me today! I’d love to know what you think about any/ all of the above so do comment or DM me.
And I hope you’ll stick around, or at least lurk around, for what’s to come. Make sure to subscribe so that I drop into your inbox like magic ✨
Have a lovely weekend, Phoebe 🌻