Rhinestones and Revolution

We spoke with our 2023 Creative Bursary recipient Elleanna Chapman about unexpected political inspiration, diamantés and wheatpaste, and existing as a principled communist in an industry rife with nepotism and classism.

You utilize pop culture motifs and imagery in your work - can you talk about the purpose and reward of employing these kitsch or poppy aesthetics?

I always introduce myself as both an artist and communist. I am interested in the role culture can play in changing society, particularly regarding class struggle and revolution. I balance my time between being in the studio, and organising with the Revolutionary Communist International. I come from a small working-class family in Essex and have always been drawn to so-called ‘low culture’ – whether it’s kitschy kittens, diamantés, or Britney Spears.

I’m interested in creating a visual expression of communism that reclaims all the best bits of my working-class heritage from the Stalinist pastische of Socialist realism. In the spirit of the Bolsheviks and the immense artistic explosion that occurred following the October Revolution, I almost think of my studio output as an investigation into contemporary Agitprop. It makes sense to me that a truly revolutionary art would try and reckon with existing icons, tastes, and images, rather than starting completely anew.

I think that given the classism inherent to the art world, embracing my own excessive taste feels like an act of rebellion, or at least a small challenge to what is and isn’t ‘fine art’. Ultimately, I want my studio practice to compliment my political organisation by platforming my communist politics and provoking urgent discussions surrounding class, art, and society as a whole.

How else do you engage with political messages and the current state of society through your art?

I like the challenge of at least trying to apply a Marxist lens to a wide variety of topics, people, and problems. For example, my most recent body of work dreams up a fantasy world where Beyoncé is a militant communist. I find unexpected political inspiration in some of her lyrics, and even in a weird press shot from the 2000s where she’s holding a newspaper featuring a paparazzi shot of herself next to a 9/11 headline. As well as being a crazy photo in and of itself, I was able to liken this image of Ms Carter to my own experience selling copies of The Communist newspaper outside London Tube stations. I think the world is pretty bonkers as it is, and I find it fulfilling to mine the images, stories, and lyrics that are already in existence to repurpose in my work.

Often I end up placing something I have found in direct juxtaposition with an element from my political practice. I call this proletarian subversion – utilising the imagery of society today but adding an element of class struggle in an attempt to challenge capitalism and the systems that be.

Were you a communist before you became an artist? How do these two parts of your life influence one another?

By around the age of 15 I was already deadset on giving this artist thing a go. I’m very stubborn and I didn’t like the idea that being an artist was meant to be a thing reserved for a small group of people – I wanted to give it my very best shot in spite of my background. I didn’t become a full on communist until the age of 19. I’d grown up on the internet and was very politicized by Tumblr. I had always been very left leaning before I even knew what the words Marxist, socialist, or communist even meant.

In recent years I have been able to better understand and explore the coexistence of Elleanna the artist and Elleanna the communist, and that’s led to more interesting work. Being an artist can feel very self indulgent at times, but I don’t think there are many other careers where I could essentially fund myself to learn Marxist theory, try to understand the tumultuous events that unfold on a seemingly week-by-week basis globally, and attempt to build a party of young revolutionaries.

If I get a bursary, a freelance gig, or a commission, that income not only gives me the freedom to make art, but also to develop politically. It feels like a little capitalist loophole that I am not only keen to protect, but to unpack – I want to understand how a communist can be a good artist, and how an artist can be a good communist, too.

What are the issues you are most eager to address through your work?

Just as capitalism is a global system, I understand that socialism needs to be international too. I want to fight for the liberation for all workers – whether they be from the UK, or further afield. I hope my work speaks to that. 

Sometimes people act as if the question of class is UK-specific, but class is part of the fabric of the (global) capitalist system, not just a certain accent or a particular culture. We might discuss class (or not) using certain language in the UK, but there is an international working-class and I want to make work that can ring true for all of these people. I hope that by unabashedly sharing the political organising I do and the ideas I believe in, other people may be inspired to ask what they could be doing to change the state of things, too.

The aesthetics I employ in my work are somewhat autobiographical: reflecting my own upbringing in Essex and that sort of tacky taste I want to reclaim, but I hope the ethos of my work has reach beyond this niche. Marx and Engels did put it best, after all: ‘Workers of the world, unite!’.

You were a Creative Bursary recipient in 2023 - has your approach or outlook changed since then at all?

My nan always tried to teach me good manners and as a result I have to say that I still am incredibly grateful for the support I received from The Supporting Act. I would have really struggled to sustain a practice without it, and it was a blessing to have a little bit of financial wiggle room coming straight out of art school.

The bursary meant that at least I could afford to take on a little less other work, freeing up time for my practice that I would have otherwise struggled to carve out. I also spent a chunk of the money on a hot pink shed, after moving to London in 2024. This shed is where I store and make new artworks without having to spaff loads of money on a rented studio. I think since receiving the bursary I have learnt to relish that independence

I think I’ve also refined my material approaches since coming out of art school. I kept going back to the wheatpaste and the rhinestones, and I’ve been able to honour that pull rather than feeling like I should try new things for the sake of it. One day, I would love to experiment more again and really push and challenge my practice, but for now, these methods are affordable, compact, and still raise enough questions about taste and materiality to keep me busy.

What do installations offer you that ‘single’ artworks don’t?

I consider all of my work a form of collage, and I think working in installation speaks to that. I like to collect various, contradictory things, and bring them together, and installation literally allows me to combine different materials, found objects, sounds, and the like, all within a single work. That provides a lot of flexibility and potential. A lot of my installation work also utilises wheatpaste: the glue that is often used for political flyposting. I often paste directly onto a gallery wall, and in the white cube art space this feels like a provocation. These spaces often try to be perfect little worlds that exist in a vacuum, unbothered by the realities of life. With wheatpaste installations I am literally bringing the materiality of grassroots politics into the art space, leaving a sticky trail behind me.

Do you think the resurgence of 00’s nostalgia and glam / kitsch aesthetics over recent years changed the way your work is seen?

I think it’s a good thing that we are picking apart the distinctions between good and bad taste and high and low art more. These distinctions are very much inherent to the class system we live under. I do wonder about how much an acceptance and enjoyment of kitsch is trendy at the moment, just as art that is aesthetically nostalgic may be a comforting case of rose-tinted glasses being worn to deal with troubled times. I just want to continue to make work that I find fulfilling and that reflects both my individual interests and the events we are all living through. I’m less worried about how people will receive my aesthetic interests – the real challenge is being received positively as a principled communist in an industry that thrives off of nepotism, wealth and classism.

What are the key issues in the art world you want to address or challenge?

It is really expensive to be an artist and a lot of opportunities depend on who you know rather than what you do. That makes being an artist inaccessible to the vast majority of people. I only managed to complete my foundation at Central Saint Martins by working throughout the pandemic at my local bakery and then applying to the Vegetarian Society for a grant to help with my commuting costs. I couldn’t have afforded to go otherwise, but I don’t do well with being told I can’t do something.

Anyone should be able to go to art school. There are so many creative young people who have the talent, but aren’t given the resources. I think funding can act as a bit of a bandage to this, but it can’t solve the problem entirely, because it is a systemic one. It’s a capitalist one.

There is a labour movement slogan of ‘Bread and Roses’ that speaks to the need to fight for not only basic necessities, but for a life worth living. Working forty plus hours a week to survive and pay your bills is not enough. We all have the capacity to be artists, musicians, writers, filmmakers, but only a select layer of society have the financial freedom, connections, and education to pursue such interests. That is completely wrong, and the classism of the art world can only be overhauled with a complete overthrow of the wider system. I hope my own art can be a true ally to this overhaul.

What’s on the horizon for you and your work?

My New Year’s resolution for 2026 is to do less, better. I have some really exciting opportunities coming up that I want to make the most out of and sink some time into.

In January, I will be showing new work in a group show at the Saatchi Gallery, London, in collaboration with Good Eye Projects. I am really excited to be showing my work at such an iconic (though not unproblematic) venue, and welcome the discussion on what it means to be a communist utilising Charles Saatchi’s platform. I hope to be able to take my nan for a day out to see the show too.

Later in the year, I will be working with the Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art on a showcase in their spaces. I was awarded the Emergent Award by Baltic and Shape Arts in September, and have been based in Newcastle/Quayside for the last month or so working in the Baltic studio and investigating the rich working-class heritage of the North East. I hope this may develop into a longer project, as I am keen to consider the North-South divide from the perspective of working-class solidarity in greater depth.

So long as I can keep making work, next year will be a good one.