“She looks just like you.”

Two dancers and a cinematographer decided to come together to produce a short film inspired by the lyrics of the indie rock band Jadu Heart’s 2022 song, ‘Cocoon’. The collective were interested in studying the complex dynamics of two sisters’ relationship; the idea where two are reliant upon one another and also yearn for independence. Over an extensive rehearsal process, Sara and Susannah explored elements of choreography and improvisation to research patterns of behaviour between siblings, such as jealousy, manipulation, unconditional love and rivalry.

Do we harper back to a time of simplicity where childhood games, dress ups and woodland dens fill our imagination? Perhaps we long to go back to our primal youth, back to earth’s rich roots where we might find our truest instincts, intentions and feelings once again.

It’s a test – how long can a sister hold the gaze of another before the wine overflows… it could be that pride takes the crown at the table.

Patterns of jealousy reach the woods. Is one competing to assert dominance over another? Do we resist the tide or conceal the hurt?

Love is a powerful token but a token nonetheless that can be shut in a book or blown out… maybe unconditional love carries too much weight, but in all life’s turbulent paths it still carries the light.

Performances and Choreography by Susannah Browning and Sara Augieras

Filmed and edited by James Bailey

Music: “Cocoon” by Jadu Heart (2022) and “That’s Just My Way of Forgetting You” by Jean Goldkette and His Orchestra (1928)

I am not a war photographer, I am a photographer capturing a conflict in my country.. It is about the pictures I haven’t taken.

On 24 February 2022, Julia Kochetova woke up in the city of Kostyantynivka to the news of the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Her phone had over forty text messages from editors, friends and a message from her mother saying they were sheltering in the basement. “When war broke out, I was on a film assignment with my producer Dima in the Donetsk region, we drove as fast as possible to get Dima back to Kyiv to join his old military unit which was defending the city.” It was in the car that Julia captured her first image of the invasion. This selfie on Instagram went viral across the globe, reaching over 3.5 million accounts. The image is cropped, all you can see is half of Julia’s face, the side of her head gear and her long plait covering her chest protector. “I took that image because I was so angry… I was angry with the whole world. The war hadn’t just started, it had been happening in Ukraine for over 8 years; silence always kills.”

Born in the city of Vinnytsia in west central Ukraine and raised in Kyiv, Julia was taught at an early age to use a camera by her father who was an amateur photographer. “I was lucky growing up, I had very supportive parents. When money was scarce, they still found a way to buy me paint and paper. At the age of five, my father gave me my first camera. He taught me about storytelling, often sharing his knowledge about composition, light and framing. After training at the art school in Vinnytsia, she went on to do a Master’s in Journalism at Taras Shevchenko National University (UA) and Mohyla School of Journalism (UA); this led to assignments covering the Maidan revolution and the annexation of Crimea in 2014. 

Over the past 15 months, Julia has been on assignment for major media outlets including Time, Vice, Bloomberg, and Der Spiegel, covering the region of Irpin captured by Russian forces shortly after the invasion, the frontline in Bakhmut, the missile attack in her hometown of Vinnytsia and the relentless fighting in Donetsk Oblast. “On the 26 February, I woke up to loud explosions raining down on a residential street near my home in Kyiv. I grabbed my camera and since that moment I haven’t stopped working. I am anxious to stop. I have a responsibility to tell my story, to share an honest depiction of my country under invasion. It is the one story I know is the absolute truth.”

Since February 2022, Julia has been creating unique visual diaries on her Instagram to document the war. Each image is accompanied with a written personal account that echoes the photo, whether this is a piece of poetry, a story or a sequence of broken sentences from her thoughts. “In history lessons at school when you learned about World War II, you would just hear about numbers, whether this was dates, data or the number of casualties. But what about the civilians’ actual stories? Where were the personal and truthful accounts? I am creating these visual diaries to share my voice, to raise awareness and to keep bringing this devastating war to the forefront.”

For the one-year anniversary of the war, Julia was chosen to take the leading front cover for Der Spiegel of President Volodymyr Zelensky at the Ukrainian Government Building. “Before the interview, we were negotiating with the President’s team about the location for the portrait. I noticed an exhibition with portraits of Ukrainian soldiers, the first portrait was of Andrii Verhoglyad, one of our youngest commanders in the 72nd brigade who was killed on the 22 June near Svitlodarsk in the Donetsk region. I knew this was where we should take the portrait. In a statement on Instagram, I urge everyone to remember the ones who stand behind the spotlight.”

A key part of Julia’s work is to capture images with hyper-sensitivity and awareness particularly when the subject is around trauma. “I am not a war photographer; I am a photographer capturing a conflict in my country.” Last summer, Julia was in the Donetsk region and in the only remaining open supermarket, she noticed at the cash desk there was a disabled young woman working at the till and behind her there were a bunch of soldiers laughing while they were buying cigarettes. “At that moment, I thought this is such a heart-wrenching and strong visual depiction of war.  When I started to take out my camera, she looked at me and I can see she is begging in her eyes for me to not take the picture. I will not make this pain bigger for someone else. My photo is not worth anything unless I have the other person’s consent. Would I be OK if someone was to take a picture of me like this?  There are boundaries. I often think, it is about the pictures I haven’t taken.”

At the heart of Julia’s photography is the importance of absolute accuracy. Each image must capture a truly authentic story that does not ‘dramatise’ the conflict nor intrude on someone’s privacy. “During war, there are many vulnerable and sensitive stories I want to share with the world but there is a process. Once you have consent from the subject whether this is a nod or hand gesture, you should be really slow and patient when you press the shutter. Once you have the image, leave the scene as soon as possible. You are just a witness; this is not your life. You can capture this moment, but you cannot steal this moment.”

Through all the terror, grief and destruction that has happened in the last year, Julia has been able to share empowering stories that look beyond the war. Last month, her images were published in Bloomberg for a story about climate resilience in Ukraine. The article shines a light on the positive actions taken by Ukrainian activists, scientists and architects who are delivering a post-war strategy that focuses on clean energy and eco-innovation in the country. “These enriching stories are hugely important; they are so Ukrainian, they highlight our ambition and our forward thinking, even amidst a war that rages on.” 

Photo Essay

Shahed drones were falling down next to my apartment. I woke up with my boyfriend, wore the vest, took a camera. She was hiding in the underground parking, protected by a soldier. 

The young couple was killed right in their bed during this hit. Her name was Viktoria Zamchenko, she worked as a wine sommelier. She was pregnant, died together with her husband because of the Russian attack on 17 October. I still keep thinking that I could be this woman – in the picture, hiding behind the soldier.

Image: President Zelensky taken on assignment for Der Spiegel.

The Korean artist, Chun Kwang Young has been creating reliefs, large scale sculptures and installations for over thirty years named ‘Aggregations.’  These structures are made from thousands of small packages wrapped in handmade text covered Hanji (Korean mulberry paper) and tied together with threads of the paper. This organic material is a champion of ecological reproduction as the tree does not need to be cut down to harvest the paper-making fibers. The process of collecting and dismantling pages of old books made of Hanji followed by the meticulous process of assembling and wrapping each package demands a huge amount of patience. They are an art of healing, presented to the audience as a form of reflection on socio-ecological subjects. 

Chun Kwang Young’s recent exhibition at the Venice Biennale ‘Times Reimagined’ confronts the devastating effect humanity has had on our planet. These sculptures are a call to action on the rapid decline of our ecosystems, mass consumption and the destructive levels of pollution in our atmosphere.

Installation views “Chun Kwang Young: Times Reimagined”, 2022, Palazzo Contarini Polignac, Venice. Copyright CKY Studio. Photo: © Alice Clancy

Could you talk about growing up in South Korea and how this might have influenced you and your passion for art?

Looking back, my childhood made a huge impression on how I perceive the world, particularly the beautiful days growing up in my village, the panic of evacuation at the age of 5 due to the outbreak of the Korean War; the lonely study time in Seoul where I had my first exposure to art; and the first prize I won in the national art competition, which encouraged me to pursue higher education in art college. When I was studying, my father heavily opposed my decision to pursue art. He was fully convinced that the only way to be successful was to study business or law. It was the love of my grandparents that supported me through all these difficulties. I still remember the food packed in ‘bojagi’ (a Korean wrapping cloth) that my grandmother prepared for me, which always brought me nostalgic memories of the village Hongcheon when I studied abroad. 

After you finished your studies, you focused on Abstract Expressionism. How did this come about and when/why did you shift your creative practice?

My first encounter with American abstract expressionism was in the College of Fine Arts at Hongik University in Seoul. After graduation, I wanted to differentiate myself from the majority of seniors who studied in Europe (especially Paris), so I chose to go to the United States where I learnt more about this genre of art and fell in love with it at my graduate school. At the time, abstract expressionism resonated with my inner desire for free expression, accentuated by the astonishing reality of social upheavals in contrast with rosy ideals. In a way abstract expressionism worked best to express the chaos and struggles of the world I lived in.

However, there had always been a haunting voice in my mind, asking myself if there could be a better way to reveal my own identity, both in form and in spirit. In 1995, I suffered from a nasty cold and it brought back childhood memories of the medicine packages wrapped in mulberry paper hanging from the ceiling of the traditional Korean herbal clinic. It was during this time that I began to explore the creative practice of working with this material.

Why did you begin working with mulberry paper? Could you talk about why this material is important to you?

Hanji (Korean mulberry paper) is much more than a material, because it has been part of my whole life. The hanok (traditional Korean style house) I lived in when I was born was built with mud walls covered with hanji; all the books used in seodang (village school) where I learnt the Thousand Character text were made in hanji; and the herbal medicines hanging from the ceiling in my uncle’s oriental medicine shop were wrapped in hanji.

Hanji is a medium for me to express my perception and contemplation of social, cultural and ecological struggle and reconciliation. Moreover, I see the life cycle of living entities through the production and recycling of the mulberry paper.

For the past 30 years, you have researched and practiced under the theme of interconnectedness. Could you explain further what this means?

In ecology, interconnectedness is an absolute factor for the reproduction and survival of all living things, including humans, and it means an essential requirement for ensuring biodiversity and enhancing sustainability in adverse conditions such as climate change. Therefore, interconnectedness is the healing DNA that overcomes the oppression and loss that arise from social disconnection, both in space and in time. It is also a thought-provoking process looking closely into the durability and recycling of the mulberry paper which reveals the natural laws of ecology facilitated by a biodiverse environment.

Your recent exhibition at the Venice Biennale ‘Times Reimagined’ showcases your extraordinary monumental sculptures and installations, could you talk about your creative process and what ‘Aggregation’ means?

‘Aggregation’ was born from my concern of the increasing level of heinous crimes, terrorism, wars, and the destruction of the natural environment. It was important that my work responded to this.

Hanji triangular bojagi (a Korean wrapping cloth) are hand-wrapped and tied one by one, so that none of them are exactly the same. This tenacious work embodies the mindset of covering the wounds of each individual, nature, and all the living beings. In some cases, I use discarded trash that is not easily recycled in nature to fill the triangular-shaped package wrapped in Hanji. In other words, it is a way to heal and reuse environmentally polluting materials.

Most of the paper existed as a book before it was used for artwork. I acquire old books, mostly genealogy books, disassemble them, and make triangular-shaped packages with the paper that has been passed on through many hands in the process of paper-making, selling, reading and recycling. 

On average how long does it take to make each relief? 

The smallest work displayed in Venice this time, for instance 195cm x 131cm, takes about two months to complete if all materials are ready. 

Could you talk about the central themes of the exhibition and why it was important for you to share your work with the public? 

‘Times Reimagined’ is a periodic review of my practice through the more intense lens of ecology. Given the unique Renaissance-style palazzo, most of the large-scale installations required site-specific adaptation, which was not just a challenge but an exciting process of initiating a new dialogue between the works and the space. Furthermore, the audience reception and interaction breathed new life into my works, adding another layer of ‘aggregation.’

Anders Duckworth is a British/Swedish artist whose work blurs the line between movement, clothing design, installation and film, exploring the boundaries of what constitutes performance. After training at London Contemporary Dance School, they went on to work with leading choreographers including Maresa Von Stockert and Lea Anderson who were hugely influential for Anders’s own creative process. Their new project ‘Mapping Gender’ is a collaboration with sound artist Kat Austen that explores the historical narratives that still underpin gender stereotypes in society. Through story extracts, movement and visual imagery we hear from the non-binary community who are calling for greater visibility. 

Overview:

Could you talk about your experience as a non-binary artist? Have you felt supported by the dance community?

As an artist, I feel there is a certain responsibility to be an activist and to advocate for non-binary people. For me there is friction between yes, I have a non-binary identity, but this doesn’t always have to dictate the work I want to create. But having said that I have gained a huge amount of joy and empowerment from resourcing my experiences as a non-binary artist. 

There is a history of gender nonconformance within the dance sector. It gives us a lot of space for experimentation but what it does not provide is a proper acceptance of your identity as being truthful and valid.  It is not just a ‘performance’. 

How can we change gender perceptions and increase visibility for people who identify as non-binary?

I think there is visibility for non- binary people, however there is so much that is still unknown and misunderstood. Non-binary is a large overarching umbrella term to include all gender nonconformance.  It is about education and helping people to understand where a non-binary person might or could be coming from. We can increase visibility for non-binary people by making sure support is always there. For example, it being a standard practice that there is always accessible gender-neutral toilets. It is basic.  When this has not been addressed, it is a real issue because it is a reminder that you are not welcome, and you are not catered for. The very fabric of the building has not considered your needs. This is something that I have confronted many times. With the layout of forms and applications, organisations need to make sure that the appropriate titles and gender markers are there. I get so frustrated when I come across ‘prefer not to say’, I am non-binary and I am proud of that, I should be allowed to state this. 

Have you experienced transphobia as an artist, especially as someone who puts themselves out in the public eye?

Transphobia always arises because of a lack of understanding. The transphobia I have experienced has manifested out of panic, where people have not had the foresight to realise that they are engaging with a non-binary person. They cannot rely on assumptions or the standard template which they are used to falling back on. It is really tricky to deal with because it can be personal, and it puts me in a position where I am having to examine myself constantly.

One of the reasons I think transphobia happens is because when a trans or a non-binary person questions the realness of binary gender it can cause this tension because suddenly it puts cis people in a position where their gender is not given. It is not fixed. 

Even to this day some auditions advertise male or female. Why are organisations still not doing enough to open access to the trans and non-binary community?

I always get so frustrated when I see an audition looking specifically for either a male or female dancer. It shows a lack of imagination. Also, it lays bare the desire for certain bodies. I have seen more opportunities that advertise for women identifying and non-binary people which is helpful. It is a start, because it shows that gender is important in the application process and that the organisation is trying to ensure that there is a more equal representation of genders. 

 I would love to see more applications that specifically ask for trans and non-binary people because it will help to ensure our visibility. To have this written down feels like a validation. That we are here, that we exist and that we are relevant. And that we are just as valuable as everyone else. 

Have you ever been misgendered as an artist? How does this make you feel?

Yes, all the time. It feels very sensitive. For a non-binary person, we don’t receive that reassurance and feedback that we are who we are. Your gender is not reflected every day in the streets. Even though it can be painful, I am trying to make sure that I don’t somehow punish myself or the other person who is mis-gendering me. I am learning to see this as an opportunity for education and learning. 

Protest is about wanting to be heard, seen and understood. In that way I am in a position where we, non- binary people have to become a protest. For someone who is quite shy, that is difficult and that is something that I am working with.

Mapping Gender:

What does performance mean to you?

It is a way of sharing and telling stories. Performance is always new even when you are rehearsing. It is this live energy in the space. I love all the work before a performance, all the time spent in the studio where you are making, creating and collaborating with people. This all cumulates towards a live moment where you are in front of people.  The audience are then there to hear you and to listen to what you have to say and hopefully participate in some way.

What is your new project Mapping Gender about?

Mapping Gender is a solo performance that focuses on gender and non-conformity. It is a collaboration with sound artists Kat Austen and historical costumer Nadia Miah.  The work aims to look at landscape and the way we draw borders and create boundaries on maps to carve up geographical space. It also looks at the body and how we use gender to carve and divide people. These are arbitrary constructs that are omnipresent in society and because of that they have real consequences for people.

Within the performance there are a series of recorded interviews from non-binary people talking about their personal experiences. I wanted to draw all these themes together. To look at the people who exist on the margins and the ‘in-between’ zones and open up new possibilities as well as re-discover the place and complexities we find in gender.

I am working alongside John Foley who is an olfactory artist, to produce different scents for the work which will draw on landscapes and disputed territories. This is the first time I have worked with scent. It is an opportunity for us to really think about who has access to the work and the potential it has in connecting us to memory and place

Alongside this, the project will have an exhibit which will have elements of the performance with objects and artefacts we have collected during our research

Could you talk about your creative process?

I like to work in a multi-disciplinary way. I can see the possibilities and limitations of dance to express certain things which is why I get very excited about how we can move through disciplines and work with people who have come from different creative perspectives and practices. 

The groundwork is research, I spend a lot of time reading, exploring and sourcing materials. Once I have the building blocks, I can start making a safe space for people to play and create. 

What would you like audiences to take away from the piece?

I would like non-binary people to come away with this feeling of shared hope. This is not new. Gender non-conformity has existed forever however history has strategically tried to erase this from society. I would like them to feel like their voice is present in some way and most importantly that they feel proud of who they are. With cis audiences, I hope the metaphors of boundaries, geographies and landscape will help people understand more deeply what it is like for a non-binary person living today.

Images taken by Jack Williams and Kit Hinchcliffe

Sofia Akel is an education activist who is leading research across the UK in order to tackle institutional racism in Universities. She is currently Race Equity Leader at London Metropolitan University. Alongside her work, she decided to set up Free Books Campaign in 2020 which aims to bring books by authors of colour to people who are unable to access them due to socioeconomic and systemic barriers.

Free Books Campaign have distributed over 1700 books to homes so far. The campaign is built on mutual trust. Those who are unable to purchase a book or have accessibility issues can request a free book from their community reading list found on their website. “The reason I set up Free Books Campaign was to create an opportunity for those who could not afford to buy books and to give people the chance to read texts by people of colour that were not exclusively about race. We sadly see this a lot in the publishing industry, where white authors can write about a whole plethora of subjects however authors of colour are often pigeon-holed and can only sign a book deal if the subject is about race. We have so many other stories to tell, with many cultures, histories, and perspectives. There is also a historical disparity here, where many authors of colour are seen as disposal and not worthy of the same publicity, deals, drive and support that they offer white authors.”

Sofia is aware that there are many people who face financial restrictions and therefore do not have the resources to request a book online, which is why she has been actively working with third-party organisations. “We are building new relationships with community centres, youth clubs and charities across the city. One of the agencies we are working closely with is Newham Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service (CAMHS) who redistribute hundreds of our books to people in the community who cannot afford them.” 

Free Books Campaign is a non-profit community interest company that is supported from financial donations from the public and from book donations from authors and publishers. She has recently started a new partnership with Vintage Book (Random House). “Vintage are donating over 300 books by authors of colour each year. I am really grateful for their support. It is a collaborative process because we curate a reading list together that ranges from children’s books to cookbooks and non-fiction. We can offer books that speak to all kinds of people.”

According to new government figures over 200,000 pupils will move from primary school to secondary school this autumn without being able to read properly. The pandemic has resulted in a major illiteracy surge in young people and requires a systemic response. Over 7.1 million adults struggle with literacy, which has meant that many parents have not be able to support their children with their reading and writing over the past year. Sofia adds: “There are a lot of parents who sadly don’t read to their children because they simply don’t have the time as they are having to work multiple jobs in order to keep a roof over their heads. Since schools have re-opened , many children have gone back to class and are falling behind significantly. They are struggling to keep up. The cycle of inequality reproduces itself. This is where public bodies need to step in. Community places like schools and libraries can play an active role in helping to alleviate the burden for parents. It is time to help students catch up.”

In 10 years over 800 libraries have closed in the UK due to austerity which has meant access to books is becoming increasingly more difficult. “I grew up in east London on a council estate, back then there weren’t that many places for young people to hang out in. I would try to utilise whatever public resources there were in the local area and libraries gave me the chance to read books which I would never have been able to afford to buy. I could just go there and explore new authors, genres, stories. Libraries were always considered important in my family. I understood the privilege of being able to go to a public library and read any book. These community hubs can affect change and alleviate people from poverty.”

This month the campaign is distributing an eclectic mix of stories from Frantz Fanon’s non- fiction novel ‘The Wretched of the Earth’, to ‘Musical Truth: A Musical History of Modern Black Britain in 28 songs’  by Jeffrey Boakye.  Authors Raphael and Opeyemi Sofoluke have recently donated 150 copies of their latest book ‘Twice as Hard’ that speaks about black stereotypes within the professional working world. “It hasn’t been easy running a company alongside my full-time job, but this has been beyond rewarding and the kindness of generosity of you all has kept me going. It is sad that a campaign like this needs to exist in a country like ours, but this is the devastating reality of living under years of austerity and widening social divisions in terms of access to education and capital.⁠⁠”

“You suddenly start to pivot and by accident, film has become a big feature for me this year.”

Before the pandemic hit, it was going to be a busy twelve months for the choreographer Cathy Marston, who had received critical acclaim for her new piece ‘The Cellist’ at The Royal Opera House, based on the musical prodigé Jaqueline Du Pre whose life was cut short by multiple sclerosis. She was just about to premiere ‘Mrs. Robinson’ based on The Graduate, her second work for the San Francisco Ballet, when theatres closed, and her work was put on hold. “At the beginning of the pandemic, I didn’t know if my projects were going to be postponed or cancelled. Everything was uncertain. For a period of time, it felt like the rug had been taken from under my feet. As with many creatives, the focus was on trying to stay afloat.”

Cathy has been in Bern, Switzerland since March 2020, the longest time she has spent at home. With studios shut, travel banned and live performances on halt, it was not long before she turned to film as a vessel for her creativity. “You suddenly start to pivot and by accident, film has become a big feature for me this year. I have realised there is so much potential and new possibilities with choreographing dance narratives for the camera. It is still quite an unchartered territory. One of the challenges I struggle with when creating work for the stage is that a lot of the small details can get lost. The camera can bring to light these subtleties, whether this is a dancer’s slight change in their facial expression or the way they catch eye contact with their partner.” 

Along the banks of the River Aare, Cathy created a short film called ‘Drift’ where she worked with the film director Felix von Muralt and the composer Philip Feeney. It was the first time she had danced in over 15 years. Improvising for camera, we see her balancing on broken trees and moving through water in the alcove of a rocky cave. “Usually, I am running around airports however lockdown gave me the chance to become far more connected to nature. Each morning when I would go for a walk, I kept feeling like I just wanted to move.”  

Creating work for digital has opened up a whole new range of collaborations for Cathy including the violinist Sara Trickey who recorded the music for Drift. “We have never actually met in person, but Sara and I have started to work on quite a few projects together during this time. She has just recorded a piece that has been composed by Errollyn Wallen for a short film I made for The Joffrey Ballet about Bertha Mason known as the ‘woman in the attic’ from Charlotte Bronte’s novel Jane Eyre.” The story follows Bertha’s gradual descent into madness after being abandoned by her husband Mr Rochester who locks her away in her room. Desolate, she lives her life closed off from society, where haunting memories of her past begin to trap her. The film was shot on location in Chicago via Zoom alongside co- director Tim Whalen. 

(To watch see below)

Cathy has also been working on a new initiative ‘Ballet Unleashed’ led by National Ballet School of Canada. This was set up in response to the pandemic and the difficulties for many creatives starting out in the industry.  It aims to support recent dance graduates across the globe by opening up employment and performance opportunities with international choreographers. “As part of the programme, I am working with the Director Lauren Finnerman on a short film ‘Switchback’ where we will be creating 6 solos with dancers in Toronto, Boston, San Francisco and Amsterdam which will be shot on location via Zoom. The music has been specially composed by Iain Farrington who will perform alongside Sara Trickey on violin.” 

Although Cathy has been unable to travel to the US to work on her new commissions, she has been able to make work from Bern and has founded an independent company ‘La Ronde’ with the British choreographer Ihsan Rustem who is also based in Switzerland. Their first production will be based on Arthur Schnitzler’s 1920s play Reigen; a collaboration with choreographers’ Caroline Finn and Luca Signoretti. “We are all going to make the production together with the premiere at Theater Winterthur in April 2022. It will then go on tour across the country with over 12 performances for the Migros Kulturprozent Steps festival which is Switzerland’s biggest biannual contemporary dance festival. This exciting project would not have happened had it not been for the fact I have been working from home.”

Looking ahead, if travel restrictions begin to ease, the plan in the Autumn is to get back into the studio and to start work with The Joffrey Ballet on the story ‘Of Mice & Men’. This will be a new venture with the award-winning, American film composer Thomas Newman. “Tom and I have been zooming on a weekly basis, working on the score throughout lock down. It’s been great having ‘Covid buddies’ like this. Even though we have been working remotely, we still have been able to collaborate online and be creative during this time.”

’I really believe that the instrument chooses you rather than you choosing the instrument’

How did you get into music? Could you talk about your music background?

I grew up playing the violin and was praised for my lyrical expression in the classical industry. I was part of a youth orchestra when I was eight and I remember I was only one of three black kids, not only was I made to feel different it was also a very competitive environment at such a young age. Over time I had a couple of teachers who ruined my love of playing the instrument. I did not know I was suffering from racism; I felt a lot of fear which began to have an effect on how I played. I started playing with a lot of tension which finally resulted in a neck and back injury. I decided to stop performing when I was 15. 

Who inspired you to explore music again?

After I stopped playing the violin, I would often turn off the TV or the radio if I heard a musician playing the instrument. I felt demoralised about it and kept thinking I was not good enough.

But then back in November 2019, I suddenly realised I really missed music. I started to explore the contemporary, classical genre. This was the first time I was seeing string players who were breaking tradition. It was a real shock for me because all I had known was one way of playing the violin. I remember going to an Oliver Coates gig at the Jazz Cafe and being completely mesmerised. He is an electronic musician who uses the cello to create these incredible and hypnotic soundscapes. 

When did you start playing the double bass?

I knew I wanted to play another instrument. I loved the violin, but I could no longer play with a fresh eye because of the past trauma I had experienced so I decided to teach myself how to play the double bass during lockdown. I taught myself by watching a lot of videos of people playing. It was a big turning point for me; I really believe that the instrument chooses you rather than you choosing the instrument. 

What does music mean to you?

It is another language. It is another way of accessing communication. I find social interaction difficult and so when I play, I feel the music speaks for me and when I listen to music, I am engaging on such an intimate level; it is a far deeper experience than merely being entertained. 

Could you talk about the new short film Tall Are The Roots?

The film was a collaboration between Ben Gorham, the founder of Swedish luxury brand Byredo and the filmmaker Fenn O’ Meally as part of the launch of the new fragrance Mixed Emotions. The perfume stemmed from the feelings of being overwhelmed by the continuous pressures to always succeed and that it is ok to not be ok. The film takes this concept further and explores the beauty of vulnerability through a collage of personal stories from poets, activists, musicians, and dancers. It was originally going to be an advertising campaign however it quickly evolved into a full-length film. 

In the film, you play the double bass in a yellow dress along the walkway of  Ivybridge Estate. Could you talk about the intention behind this?

Fenn wanted to bring a traditional string instrument into a setting that you would not normally expect to see it in. Although there is this juxtaposition between the two, they do marry up and both can belong. I felt there was a beautiful fluidity to this.

I do see fashion as another way to express myself and that yellow dress represented my style. It gave me the confidence to feel bold and free. I have always been fascinated with characters from books and how you can tell stories through your clothing. When I dress up I become the character ‘Damsel’ which means ‘Maiden of Paradise’, it is like this blank canvas for me which I can keep changing and allows me to be whoever I want to be.

Could you talk about your creative process?

Fenn was open to my own interpretation during the process, I was given the freedom to put my own feelings and creative expression into the piece. Originally, I was going to play Bach’s Cello Suites No. 2, it is one of my favourite pieces to perform however when we started filming the sound no longer felt truthful to me at that moment. I decided to improvise but draw upon the scale and tone of Bach’s compositions. I realised that as I was playing, I was reacting to my surroundings, to the environment and to the heightened stillness around me. 

Is there a future project in the pipeline?

I have recently been announced as one of the winners of Sound and Music UK, Black Composers Open Call, the UK’s national organisation for new music. I intend to use the grant to create a composition called ‘Whispers of Ancient Vessels’ that will explore a collage of sound and textures from the natural surroundings that evoke feelings of nostalgia and wisdom. Although I am unable to divulge too much at this stage, there will be a visual piece that will accompany the music.

With rising mental health issues and the debilitating effects of loneliness caused by isolation, people are turning to crafts as a way to support their mental wellbeing. During the pandemic, a huge influx of people have been joining the digital platform, Yodomo, that provides a range of online craft workshops taught by professional artists.

What is Yodomo?

Yodomo stands for ‘You Do More.’ The learning platform offers a range of online craft courses and kits which have been carefully curated by leading professional artists. It is about improving people’s wellbeing through participation in making and crafts, sharing each other’s skills and supporting professional makers.

Who inspired your love of craft and making?

My mum was a prolific maker, she was a seamstress by trade, but she was also a painter. Everything was hand-made in the house. She was always making use of left-over materials, not throwing things away but fixing them. I felt like our generation were no longer engaged in making and had lost interest in learning craft skills because we had become dependent on consumerism. 

Why did you decide to launch Yodomo?

I wanted to build an online platform where makers could share their creative skills through high quality content that was carefully curated. In 2017 one of our key objectives was to find a way to support professional makers to generate revenue. For a lot of artists, they need time to work in their studio with space for ideas, making and selling. Our aim is to train people to make their own content as quickly and as efficiently as possible whilst still retaining high quality footage. 

Why do you think there is a growing trend of MIY (Make it Yourself)?

There are a number of macro trends responsible for the rise in MIY. Firstly, there is a heightened curiosity about how things are made. We are far more conscious about what we buy and how we might reuse materials we already have. There is also a wider understanding that participating in creativity and the arts can help to support our mental health. Lastly, I think there is a post-digital desire to make something tangible, to get back to using our hands. Easier-to-use technology has also made it far more accessible to a wider group of makers to share and teach their craft skills. 

What is ‘Making A Living’?

Back in March 2020, we wanted to support creatives by providing a free workshop on how to make your own course. The idea being that it didn’t matter if you were going to host it on our platform or on someone else’s; we wanted to help you transfer your live workshop into an online workshop so that you can create revenue during this difficult time. We are now taking this further and growing this content with a series of free mentoring workshops such as ‘How To Shoot Your Course’ and ‘How To Conduct Your Own Live Webinar.’ 

Do you think the pandemic has resulted in a new wave of digital skills for makers?

Before Covid we filmed everything, however when lockdown hit many creatives let go of their fears when it came to producing their own digital content. They realised that it was the only way they could communicate with their audience and reach a wide network of people. Since the pandemic, all our professional makers have been shooting their workshops themselves using their phones. We will step in if there is a problem with editing or audio. 

What was the Hackney ‘Wick Together’ Initiative?

We were supported by a new fund set up by the Mayor of London’s Creative Enterprise Zone that aims to help local creative communities by delivering training and courses. As part of the initiative, we mentored nine local makers where we taught them to shoot content, curate their own course and increase their social media presence. There is a lot of stigma regarding self-promotion as an artist, so our hope is that we have provided each maker with a valuable set of digital skills that will enable them to monetise their creative projects. An important part of the programme was to get them to think about inclusivity and how can they share their craft by creating clear and accessible content to those who have never learnt their skill before. 

Could you talk about the relationship between mental health and craft?

Before the pandemic, the British Medical Association committee and the NHS were given a mandate to explore social prescribing on a national scale. The Royal College of Psychiatrists have been looking very seriously at this holistic approach of prescribing an activity rather than a medical drug. I am really interested to see how the social prescribing movement develops and keen to see how Yodomo can participate in this initiative.

Back in 2019, we worked with QConsult (Queen Mary University of London) to devise a framework that accurately proves that when you engage in a craft it reduces social isolation, helps to control anxiety levels and overall improves your mental health. 

Were you involved in the Let’s Craft Appeal?

This initiative was organised by the Crafts Council; they wanted to raise funds in order to support children across the country by giving them access to art materials and creative activities in their home during lockdown. At Yodomo, we packed up 1000 papercraft kits with a series of artwork sheets organised by illustrator Isabella Mitchell and the bookbinder Hanbury Press.  

What is the focus for Yodomo going forward??

From the autumn, Yodomo HQ is moving to the Design District in Greenwich. There will also be a studio space for makers which will give creatives the opportunity to produce high quality digital content. We will run our ‘Making a Living’ programme from the Design District, with regular events to help craftspeople develop new skills so that they can grow their own business. 

My aim is to provide a wider access to those who would never have had the opportunity to try craft activities. Sustainability must also be at forefront; we want to try to get people to think about more about the materials they are using and teach people ‘to make do and mend’. I would like us to get to the stage where we no longer have to send kits, instead we can teach them to reuse their offcuts.  

‘Making a Living’ 2020 was supported by Arts Council England

https://yodomo.co

“I am interested in telling people’s personal stories and the way that war has affected their lives”

In 1988, war erupted between Armenia and Azerbaijan over the Nagorno-Karabakh region which is situated in southwestern Azerbaijan. However 90% of the population who live in this area are ethnic Armenians. The conflict ended with Armenia taking control of the region and seven surrounding Azerbaijani districts including Kalbajar. On 27th September 2020, with the political support from Turkey, Azerbaijan launched an offensive to retake Nagorno-Karabakh. It resulted in a six-week conflict which killed over 5,000 soldiers and 143 civilians, displacing thousands from their communities. A major outbreak of Covid-19 escalated out of control crippling the health care system. On the 10^th November, a Russian mediated peace deal ended the war, resulting in Azerbaijan retaining territory taken during the earlier conflict and regaining districts surrounding Nagorno Karabakh.  

In the ancient, medieval monastery of Davidank set in the mountains of the Kalbajar region, a boy is lighting a series of candles. It is a still scene; golden light touches his face, he looks out but not towards us. Behind him Armenian worshippers are making their final prayers, they realise this could be the last time before the monastery will be handed over to Azerbaijan. An image captured by the photojournalist Anastasia Taylor-Lind in November 2020 on her latest report on the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. 

Last year, Anastasia and the journalist Kristen Chick went out to the region for a month where they covered the final two weeks of the war and the immediate aftermath. “I am not a press photographer; I would never see a conflict breaking out and then go to cover it. This is not how I work; I am interested in telling people’s personal stories and the way that war has affected their lives. In 2011, I worked in Nagorno- Karabakh and therefore it felt important to me that I went back to see how the conflict was impacting on the communities and families I had photographed before.”

Anastasia captured a series of photographs close to the frontline at the emergency department of the Republican Medical Centre in Stepanakert. In one of her images, a crowd of medical staff gather to admit a wounded combatant who has been injured in the battle for Shusha (known as Shushi by the Armenians). The bandage that covers his head is already stained with blood. They are all caught in motion, blurred in the frantic chaos. Only the combatant is in focus; his eyes look directly at the camera. “We wanted to show the relentless pressure the medical teams were under and to visualise the violence that was happening in Shusha. I knew the Director of the emergency department Grigory Arustamyan because back in 2011, I photographed the christening of his first daughter at the Ghazanchetsots Cathedral. I had his permission to be able to photograph, but in an emergency situation everything happens very quickly. There is no chance to speak to anyone, the medical staff are taking severely wounded soldiers straight from the ambulance to the emergency room. In these moments, I have to be immediate, this is a very different approach because normally I spend time and build a relationship with the people I am about to photograph.”

 When the fighting began, the outbreak of Covid-19 reached new heights. It became impossible to track those affected with the virus. Medical staff stopped wearing PPE as they became overwhelmed with the wounded and volunteers including aid workers and combatants from Armenia crossed the border bringing the virus with them. Many families were forced to seek shelter from shelling. They huddled together in large groups below ground in communal basements which thus fuelled the spread of the virus. 

In the emergency department in Stepanakert, Anastasia, Kirsten and their local producer noticed that the majority of journalists were not wearing masks. Was the press in danger of exacerbating the spread of the virus? “It is our responsibility to make a positive contribution and to not harm the people we are photographing and reporting on. Many reporters were being really irresponsible and putting people’s lives at risk. You have a group of people inside, with people who are seriously wounded, so their immune systems are going to be compromised and if the medical staff who are treating those patients were to contract Covid then this would have serious repercussions. There was also mask shaming going on amongst the journalists towards us. One day I was standing outside the emergency department and a male journalist came up to me and said, ‘why are you wearing that mask?’ He berated me and said there is no Covid here.”

Capturing the lives of ordinary people is at the heart of Anastasia’s work which is why she stands out from other photojournalists who report on conflicts. It is the personal stories that are often forgotten in wartime. “I go and tell the stories that I want to tell. I see my male colleagues building intimate rapports with the young men who fight because there is this shared masculinity in photojournalism which I know I am not part of.”

In the days following the Russian-mediated peace deal, Anastasia returned to Tbghlu village, to capture a series of a photographs of a family she met back in 2011. In one of the images, Lilit stands holding her child by the window, their hands are touching. Natural light floods through the white lace curtain into the room. She knows her husband will not return from fighting. It is a tender, peaceful scene though one can see the fear across her face. “Back in 2011, I photographed Lilit Gabrielyan when she was 10 years old; I spent a lot of the time getting to know all the family. After the ceasefire we called the family to check if they were safe. We heard they had fled to Armenia during the conflict but had just returned to Karabakh. Lilit is now 19, she got married a year ago to her husband Shura Markosyan, who was a soldier. When I took the photograph of Lilit holding their newborn child, her husband was missing in action in Hadrut. They had just taken a DNA swab from the baby in case they needed to identify his remains.”

There is a sensitivity and a thoughtful awareness to Anastasia’s work because she is always thinking about the impact it has on the people she photographs. “Consent is such an important part of being a photographer. I like to explain why I am going to make this picture and how it will be used.”  Do you think photojournalism can create social change? “I think what gives me hope, is that photography is for history. If people want to look back and understand the world that we lived in, perhaps a photographer’s narrow, individual experience can be a small part of the narrative.”

The project was supported by the National Geographic Society’s Emergency Fund for Journalists.

http://www.anastasiataylorlind.com

Could you talk about your experience studying fine art at Goldsmiths College in the 1990s?

In 1990, I left Japan when I was 18 years old and came to the UK to study Fine Arts at Goldsmiths College. I originally wanted to be an oil painter. At that time, the course was very conceptual, our tutors included Michael Craig- Martin who fostered the YBA’S (Young British Artists) and the visual artist of the New British Sculptural Movement, Julian Opie. Damien Hurst had just left Goldsmiths. The focus was on critique where everyone had to show and analyse each other’s work; as you can imagine it was all such a complete cultural shock for me. Suddenly I was collecting rubbish and having to make something out of nothing. It was such an interesting time, but I felt completely lost and overwhelmed. I realised that maybe I didn’t understand art at all because I didn’t think in this way.  

Why did you decide to go into tailoring?

After studying, I realised that I wanted to make something that was functional and useful. I was back in Japan, looking at the jacket my father was wearing, and I became fascinated by the hand stitching, the detail in the lining and the subtle embroidery. I always liked the simplicity of men’s clothing because there is a practicality to the design, a lack of embellishment and a precision to the shape. After taking a tailoring course at the London College of Fashion, I decided to work in menswear. 

Could you talk about your experience working for Paul Smith?

Paul Smith offered me a job as the assistant designer for men’s accessories.  I closely worked with a company in Osaka called Volta 92 where we would design men’s striped pyjamas and underwear. For the European market I designed socks, scarves and hats. When I started working for the company, it felt like a family, there was so much talent and craft. Paul was generous and hugely inspiring, I felt very fortunate to work for him and Sue Copeland but by the early 2000s the company was expanding and the atmosphere had changed. I realised that I wanted to be more involved in the creative process and so when my daughter was born, I took the opportunity to leave.

Who inspired you to make ceramics?

My father took over a saké brewery called Tosatsuru which was founded in 1773. The style of saké he made was dry, refreshing and easy to drink. He was a successful businessman with a passion for making quality saké that was good value for money, so that anyone could enjoy it. He looked after me and was always supportive, I think I wanted to find a way to repay him. I craved his approval which is why I wanted to make something that was useful but was connected to what my father was doing. I realised I could learn to make pottery for drinking saké .

In 2003, my partner Alasdair Duncan and I designed a saké bottle for my father’s brewery. We wanted to create a simple and structural design that moved away from decorative tradition. It is called ‘azure’ as this saké is made from clean, deep sea water. The brewery is situated in Kochi at the south of Shikoku island overlooking the Pacific Ocean.  

Could you talk about The Kiln Rooms?

We are a community of potters in Peckham that was co-founded by Stuart Carey and Ben Cooper. Peckham Levels and Bellenden Road Arches provide ceramic workshops, courses for all levels and a membership studio. I joined Copeland Park Studio in 2016 where members are given the space and the opportunity to work independently on their own projects, whilst also being mentored and supported by The Kiln Rooms community. We all influence each other in the best possible way and respect each other’s creative process. 

Could you explain the aesthetic behind your pottery?

My ceramics have a simplicity so that you can see the texture, the detail and the shape of the design. They have a restrained colour palette because I believe having certain constraints is important because you appreciate the true essence of the pot. Each piece has a purpose; they are tactile forms and so they should be touched and handled. I want my pottery to be used every day.  

During lockdown, I have been thinking about my childhood; I grew up looking out to the vast blue expanse of the ocean. Perhaps this is the reason, I have started to add touches of blue to my recent pots. 

Has pottery influenced the way you live your life?

When I sat in front of the wheel for the first time, I knew this was it. Making ceramics has helped me to relate to people and to understand my relationship with my family. Pottery demands patience; it is about precision, but it is also about letting go. It is just like bringing up a child, you want to teach them, but you can’t completely control them. You have to protect them but also let go. This is similar to how I practice my ceramics. I direct the clay to where I want it to go but I also have to allow the materials to change and evolve as it goes through the drying, heating and glazing process.  

https://www.ydotpottery.co.uk