​Shirin Neshat

With my Neshat work, my first set of photos had nothing to say, but for the second set I had ended up taking pictures that spoke about a lock down experience, the light being the only access into the outside world. What, then, was I to draw?

I did not decide straight away; I took some time experimenting. I copied some of Morland’s Theresa May figures, thinking about all the different ways he had composed her. I splashed blue ink on the top, the same colour as her infamous jacket, and liked how the colour was not restricted within the lines I had drawn. In a way, it resembled the sewing I had done; abstract patterns over non-abstract figures. Next, I knew what I would struggle with most is the faces of anyone I drew, and I needed to practice. I pulled up four big political figures and drew some very basic outlines of their faces. They were simple, almost too much so, but they helped me understand the proportions of different faces.

Up until this point, stuck at home, I had mostly focused on my family for inspiration. Creating work that revolved around people would, ultimately, was easier if I were using the people that I was ‘trapped’ with. And what followed was no different. Morland had talking about enhancing aspects of the people he was drawing, and so when approaching my mum, I decided that she should be playing her oboe.

I tried to incorporate different media into the subsequent caricatures, and trialled several different media including coloured pencil and watercolour. The results were colourful and ‘funky’, and they certainly made my mum laugh, but they were quite static – unmoving. Not like Morland’s fluid, diverse caricatures. I encountered a similar problem with my brother – although this time I created links back to Anzeri by sewing abstract shapes over the top of his face. This, like Anzeri often did, released the stationary portrait, and gave it a different layer. Again, I liked what I saw, and this was by far the most successful caricature I had created.

Following this success, I wanted to create more but knew, to do so successfully, I would need some primary source photos. This was when I discovered Richard Billingham, a British photographer who has used his background and past to propel his art forward. He came from a home with an Alcoholic father, abusive mother, and helpless baby brother. When he was a child, he took photos which captured the essence of his home; smoke covered, leaning over puzzles, food on laps as they watch TV. The photos are borderline satirical, and he went forward to make his own movie titled ‘Ray & Liz’. When I watched it, I noticed immediately that every shot was taken with care and made to look interesting. It was without doubt a photographer’s movie, although often hard to watch because of the material it dealt with.

It could be argued that the link between Billingham’s tragic-comic family photos and my unit thus far is strenuous, but I thought his photos, especially his ‘Ray’s a Laugh’ collection linked well to the photos that I wanted to take. The ‘comic’ of ‘tragic-comic’ would become more prominent and enhancing the consequent photos with thread would bring them to life in a way that my drawings did not. I took a lot of photos with Billingham’s style, trying to capture the essence of what occurred in my home on a day-to-day basis. I tried to ‘caricaturize’ each person I took a picture of, to make it so they could be a Morland drawing. I made my sister wear her uniform backwards to shadow both her untidiness and her current ‘backward’ school life. My mum’s messiness and my dad’s ongoing obsession with bicycles helped me create almost caricatures in photo format, and I thought they worked well. The final set of photos were family shots – but much more colloquial than any of the old photos Billingham had worked on top of. I realised that that difference in formality could be interesting, so I put filters on my modern photos giving them an aged touch.

This created an interesting contrast between the relaxed formality typical in modern photos, and the static rigidity common in old photos that Anzeri uses, where people had to remain still for the picture to be taken. So, with the success of the sewing behind me, I went to use these photos to create a resolved piece.

It involved 6 mini pieces. Like Anzeri, the thread became a way for me to change and manipulate my images; a tool to bring life into stationary photographs. Each piece encompassed something I had covered so far:

The first piece was me sewing over each of my family’s faces bringing them forward and linking back to the caricatures I made from thread. The colours I used over each family member are colours I associate to them subconsciously. Next, I cut out my brother and did a single line drawing of him, linking to the fluidity of my ink experiments and the more standard cartoons that are physical pictures. Other pieces involved me sewing over my mother’s hand and ripping people out of images, each with a different message.

The thread could symbolise 2 things: masks and restricted voices, but also the linking of my different family members and bringing them out the photo to tie them all together. It was a series of pieces that I thought worked well to reflect what I had accomplished so far and looked great presented on a piece of mount board.

The next logical step in my mind was to now research how propaganda can have a large impact on its onlookers. Its purpose, by definition, is to carry a message, but I never realised the wide variety that has existed through time and around the world. After research into artists like John Heartfield I and Shepard Fairey, I discovered the Russian Avant Garde. What really interested me was how artists like Rodchenko used angular lines in all his work to convey his message. In a simple book shop sign, the angles and shapes meant so much more than just a pretty pattern; they were a message; a symbol. A language to the onlookers that only they could speak.

So, I researched further into Rodchenko’s work, initially copying his bookshop sign, then adapting it for the modern day. I used the coronavirus and the NHS as an immediate inspiration, as throughout Corona it has become commonplace to see banners and posters plastered against walls promoting and praising the NHS. I used a real, tactile mask in one instance to add a 3D component to the poster, but always making sure the angular lines were constantly involved. I created a negative opposite, inversing the picture and colours with a condemnatory message to show propaganda can go both ways. Then, the image with clapping hands. I liked this a lot, with the lines of Rodchenko forming windows from which clapping occurs. I had to bear in mind this all had to be simplistic, bold, colours like a poster carrying a simple message.

I then tried to transfer this to a digital platform, which had limited success. The resources at my disposal were not fantastic, but I did manage to add a 3D element to the poster, which I liked. Pushing the more important segments forward meant they were more ‘in your face’ and stressed more the message of the poster, whilst also pushing other elements back. This could mean I could create layers of different messages, some agreeing and some opposing.

I then decided to leave the UK. In Russia, one black and white piece and one proudly showing off the Russian flag only having Putin’s face showing through a circular hole reflected the media’s stories. An initial impression of a bright and healthy Russia before revealing the true story of what was occurring. Russia initially told the world they were having little cases and deaths, before revealing the truth.

When it came to creating a final piece for my research into Rodchenko, I wanted to utilise the layered effect I had just been working with, pushing information up and into the face of the onlooker. Of course, I had to keep the angular lines in place, and the success of the NHS clapping experiment meant I wanted to include hands in there also.

Eventually I created a piece that had different elements protruding. The word ‘protect’ pulled right from the government coronavirus propaganda and the latter half of the word was raised, stressing the part of the word that would be stressed whilst shouting. I used a Neshat photo as the figure shouting out, as I thought it contrasted well with the loud bold colourful backdrop. In the photo my sister is scared and uncertain from inside, just like the hands were clapping and praising from inside. It showed both the positives and negatives of the NHS response, but still very much being Rodchkeno style of simplistic and bold.

Finally, it was time to start concluding all my ideas, and start building towards a finale. Everything thus far had been news and media related, and so my mind immediately went to the idea of presenting work on a newspaper-like model. After hours of research, I found an artist called Kirsty Whitlock who uses thread, newspapers, bags, train tickets – anything she can find – to create her work. She explores throwaway culture; bringing life back into items we throw away.

Physically, the materials Whitlock uses link to what I have been working with, but also thematically her work links to looking for deeper meaning inside newspapers and materialistic items, restoring life into these items, and exploiting their often-overlooked qualities.

As a response, I combined two newspapers with thread, highlighting only parts of headlines that told a different story when separated from the title. Next, I went to a field and started putting newspapers in different areas that they would be discarded like in a puddle and on a park bench. The newspapers, in this situation, looked great as a response to Whitlock’s work, and I wanted to replicate this.

So, I started by dipping various materials in pottery plaster, and moulding them to mock the shapes created in my primary source photos. Not only did this look unique, but it provided me with a solid surface for me to work on top of. In a way it was solidifying and immortalising what would previously have been thrown away. I created lots of experiments, using thicker and then thinner plaster, and then working with thread.

Mod podge is a transfer glue which transfers onto paper or card and so I tried transferring pictures from my unit onto these models. Admittedly, the plaster was not the greatest surface for the mod podge. Often, more of the image was taken away than left behind. However, this did create a ‘discarded’ effect. Some of my Neshat photographs managed to remain in place, and I liked how these clean, sharp images were left clinging to the discarded newspapers.

The time came to then assemble a final piece. In my experimentation, thread had always been a successful way of showing or hiding different elements, but for my final piece I wanted to use it in a more tactile fashion. I wanted it physically to tie all the elements together, whilst symbolically enhancing them in a response to throwaway culture.

Whilst experimenting with different cloths and materials, I tried dipping newspaper itself into the plaster. Initially, it formed a crumpled ball. But, after layering up the newspaper and making the plaster lighter, it held its shape. This meant that some of the elements of the final piece could actually be bits of discarded newspaper. I intentionally chose parts of a newspaper that would be thrown away almost the next day; TV guides that are only relevant for 24 hours whilst also tying back to my initial experience with the news featured heavily.

In the most basic sense, my final resolved piece answers my question by tying all the bits and pieces of my unit together. Neshat’s satire, Morland’s caricatures, Rodchenko’s propaganda – all ways in which art is expressed and carries a message. The plaster and thread immortalise the messages, whilst tying them altogether.

However, my final piece is more complicated. It suggests that messages are fleeting. Rodchenko’s message is out of date; Morland’s message changes from piece to piece. This is what Whitlock was dealing with: throwaway culture. It could be argued that child me was an accurate representation of the effect art in the news has – little.

Most people who read the news read it to educate themselves. Messages that do go through are often subliminal and fleeting. So, despite the plaster, thread, and my attempt to immortalize the messages in the media, all the artists and art in the media I have explored only carries a message temporarily. The sagging thread, the discarded mod podge, and the crumpled paper shows that the messages carried in the news are temporary in all the forms I have investigated.