Using art to open challenging dialogues within institutions

How has your practice changed over time, in terms of the mediums you use, as well as the issues you address or the motivations that drive you?

It’s a long story! I’ll try to just give you the highlights.

My first creative language was writing Hip Hop lyrics. It really helped me get through some tough times growing up (and it continues to do so!). I was a creative kid and always liked drawing and making stuff, and I remember making the choice of whether to draw or write when I felt the need to create. As I got older, I gravitated more and more towards lyrics rather than drawing, perhaps subconsciously this was because it was the only example I could see of people who I identified with being creative.

Writing bars led me to a poetry and storytelling course at a local community centre, which opened me up to the world of spoken word. The guy who ran the course asked me to help out running it the next time it took place, and at the same time a youth project leader on my estate asked me to help out with an anti knife crime music project with young people in the area.

Those two projects took me from working as unskilled labour on building sites to starting my own youth project teaching lyric-writing and poetry in schools and youth clubs. This took me to a project with the Youth Justice Service. The project was all about giving young people who had been in trouble with the police as many different arts experiences as possible in three weeks of their school summer holidays - the time when they are most likely to re-offend. Over the course of five years I progressed from running poetry and lyric writing workshops, to becoming the programme’s lead artist and coordinating loads of different art forms for the young people to experience. That gave me curiosity about experimenting with those art forms myself. Combined with getting more confident in my poetry practice as it began to intertwine with my music, I started to explore different art forms more seriously.

More recently, on the first iteration of my Digging Crates project, I worked with Zimbabwean artist, Miles Ncube, who told me that in Shona culture there’s no distinction between a poet, a painter, a dancer, or a musician. You’re a creative, and however the creativity flows through you is what you manifest. That really resonated with me. I started to think there’s no need for me to limit my creativity to just lyrics, just music, just poetry. That conversation really broadened my horizons. I think now the thing at the centre of my practice is communication, and the message or idea I want to share. That’s what dictates the mediums I use.

You have described your work as challenging injustice. Can you explain how this became an area of focus? Were there specific events, moments or experiences that drove you to speak to injustice through your work?

My mum was always politically aware, always challenging injustice, I can remember having quite deep political and philosophical conversations with her from a really young age. I grew up with the knowledge that the right thing to do is to challenge what’s wrong and to encourage others to do the same. On top of that the musical education I got from her was artists like Bob Marley and John Lennon, a lot of protest songs and calls for unity, justice and peace, so to me that was always a big part of an artist’s role; to question and challenge where they can - I guess I just feel it’s what everyone should do! Before I even thought of myself as making art I just gravitated to examining things that feel unjust or unfair as a subject instinctively.

All this while growing up in Oxford, which is one of the most socioeconomically divided cities in the UK, on the poor side of that divide. Oxford is quite a small city so when you’re in a deprived area the wealth isn’t far away, sometimes just across the road or on the other side of a wall, reflecting on it, that duality really influenced me without me knowing it. As I developed as an artist, I became more interested in looking at contrast and things that seem like opposites or separate from each other but actually aren’t. The way different life experiences and modes of being are actually linked beneath the surface. Like in Oxford where two different cities inhabit the same space, where people can have totally different life experiences but live on the same street.

Could you talk us through what multimedia means when it comes to your work? How does writing, music and the visual arts intertwine in your approach and what does the multi-format approach offer you as an artist?

When I say multimedia, I’m talking about multiple mediums. I see different forms of creativity as a range of languages that allow the transmission of ideas in different ways. For example I could write a song, or a poem about the colour red, and it would give you a very different experience than if I placed you in a room where everything is red, or made a film where the colour red has been removed. We can make art about the same subject, but it transmits very different ideas depending on the medium we use and how we use it. I love to think about it in terms of which senses I’m engaging and how my work will be received in the body. Sometimes it’s about just focusing on one sense, sometimes I can engage all of them at once! Different mediums are about connecting with different ways of experiencing the world around us, and using the most appropriate artforms to express ideas through those means.

Can you talk us through your work with Oxford’s History of Science Museum? How did that project come about?

The project began with a visit to the museum with my sons during their school holidays. We were just killing time after running a few errands and had a nice time until we got to the top of the main staircase. My oldest son stopped in his tracks and asked me why a particular painting was there. He was looking at the only image of a Black person in the whole museum, a child about his age with a metal collar around his neck and a tear on his cheek, holding a map. I later found out the white man in the foreground displaying this child as his property was a royal jeweller. The map the Black boy was holding was to point out territory this man had “explored”. It was a really troubling experience for both me and my son, and I wasn’t ready to be confronted with that image on our day out and didn’t know the best way to answer his question. He asked again on the way home, and I still couldn’t figure out what to say.

Almost as if by fate, the following Monday I was contacted by a representative from the museum saying they were thinking about beginning their decolonisation process at the museum, and could I come to a meeting that week to discuss how they might start. I had a very clear idea of how they could begin! That meeting started a four year process that led to the painting being removed from display and this work coming together.

Do you see that work, and the way the project unfolded, as representative of your ideal approach and aims?

It’s definitely a project I’m really proud of. It’s changing the narrative of that historic space for everyone who steps into it, as long as that piece is on display. It’s changing what so many visitors receive as “the history of science”, which I think is really important. Addressing false narratives, especially in places seen as authorities and experts is a big part of what I want to do.

I’m really interested in working with museums and heritage spaces to help them shift the role they play in society. Historically, museums all over the world have basically been trophy cabinets, promoting and reinforcing ideas of dominance and superiority. I think we can address the ugliness of those ideas, and how these places came to be, by transitioning them into places of truth, where stories come from many perspectives, places where cultures from all over the world meet, where we can celebrate what makes us human. I’m really interested in helping the shift into that reality. It’s difficult work, a lot of these institutions move slowly, if at all, and often the frontline staff are more eager to make changes than people higher up who hold more power.

I mentioned my project Digging Crates, which is all about working with heritage spaces and collections and using a Hip Hop culture as a means to reinterpret those spaces and objects. It’s a really open-ended multimedia project that uses all the foundational elements of Hip Hop; visual art, sound production, words, movement, and of course community. I’m definitely always looking for organisations to collaborate with on work like this. So if anyone out there is interested, please get in touch!

What do you think are some of the most pressing issues facing emerging artists today?

The funding arena is so competitive it makes it difficult to stand out, and the hand-to-mouth nature of it can lead to burnout and difficulties in maintaining momentum. There’s a lot of pressure to compete for limited resources, to produce vast amounts of work, all while doing your own promotion, marketing, and networking. Basically, you’re doing the job of a whole production team single handed. That’s a real challenge.

Working as a freelance artist with larger or more "prestigious" organisations and institutions, it’s all too easy for the fruits of your labour to get appropriated for the purposes and aims of those bodies. It’s rare to find opportunities to make art for art’s sake, there’s 100 points to meet on a brief, you're asked to detail every element of your work and what it’s going to do before you’ve even started making it. That can be a real killer for a creative brain. Sometimes you just need to make something because you’re compelled to, or just because you think it’s cool. You’ll figure out its benefits to society as you are making it, or even afterwards - that’s part of the reason for doing it! There will almost definitely be some.

I think it’s something to do with the intersection of government, business, academia and the arts. Bureaucratic institutions such as these can often be quite fixed in their processes and don’t always interface well with how the arts and artists need to work, yet equally they need the artist’s creative process. I was once offered a contract on an arts/academic research project that required me to produce four pieces of music, four minutes in length, as a result of a set number of days work. I had to explain that it doesn’t happen like that! I could present a 30 second piece of music that took weeks and I can almost guarantee it will have more impact than a seven minute freestyle! I think that’s a good indication of the gap in understanding that often occurs. It’s getting better but there's definitely still work to be done!

I always try to offer feedback when I work with these institutions, although they aren’t always ready to hear it! I think it's a really important part of my job as I often seem to be the first one breaking new ground and trying new ways of collaborating, particularly within academia. I’m happy to say that my feedback has occasionally led to changes in process, and artists following me having an easier experience.

Solidarity is a big part of how I think about this. I try to highlight these tensions whenever I have the ear of commissioning and funding institutions, and often find that they at least have some desire to change things for the better.

How has the arts landscape, either in the UK, or internationally, changed since you’ve been producing work? Are there any positive changes you’ve witnessed? And what are the trends or patterns you find most alarming?

I think it’s easier to find opportunities now than when I started out. Organisations at least try to look like they’re increasing and diversifying access, which can lead to opportunities being more widely available. I guess this is a good thing, but also means the application process is more competitive.

There’s definitely more openness around what art is and what art can be, and who can make art. When I was first starting out, my image of an artist was someone who’d gone to university, got a degree in fine art, and became an oil painter. I didn’t understand that what I was making could be considered art until fairly late in my journey. Ironically, it was a conversation with a friend who had studied art at uni that opened my mind to the idea. Maybe it’s just that my understanding has shifted, but I think the general idea of what an artist can be has shifted too. I’m self-taught, never went to university, have no formal art training and I think that’s a legit pathway now, where perhaps it wasn’t particularly when I first started out. At least I didn’t see it.

I’ve been constantly engaged in various projects with the University of Oxford as an artist over the last five years or so. Before 2020, I wouldn’t have even considered that I might be a possibility. That’s a positive change, though it has come with some of the difficulties around the interface between arts and academia I spoke about earlier.

Since Brexit, it’s become much less viable to travel as a British musician. Performances in continental Europe, especially anything without substantial funding behind it, have become almost untenable. I remember doing a tour of Europe with my Hip Hop collective, Inner Peace Records, in the summer of 2016, just before the laws changed. We covered something like eight different countries and it was so easy. Doing the same thing now would be much more difficult.

Grassroots spaces for arts in the UK are feeling a lot of pressure, and many iconic venues in Oxford and all round the country have already closed. The financial landscape and infrastructure for arts in the UK can be really difficult. But there is an inspiring DIY culture in response to that, and there are still brilliant artists making brilliant art in spite of those cutbacks.

Arts provision in schools, music provision especially, is often the first thing to be cut. Youth creativity suffers from that. Policy makers seem to think that the arts aren't useful. I'd say to them, remove all the music, writing, visuals, and movement from your personal life and political campaigns and let’s see how you get on!

Finally, how do grants, particularly unrestricted ones, play a role in today’s arts landscape?

Something like The Supporting Act Foundation’s Artist Grant is literally a dream come true. It’s a really well recognised and respected organisation, offering the trust that, given the right conditions, I will make art, and by doing so, make the world around me a better and more interesting place. It’s hard to put into words; it removes an element of pressure which in turn frees up brain capacity to be creative. As a full-time artist, you’re constantly at the grindstone, either creating work or looking for the next opportunity. [A trust-based grant] turns that hand to mouth grind into a positive cycle that actually enables me to be more productive.

I can be more ambitious, spend time thinking about where I want to go and what I want to do, conduct experiments with my practice, try new things, make art just because I want to, not because it fits someone else’s funding criteria or because I’ve justified what audience boxes it ticks or how it benefits the economy or whatever. I can just make it because it’s something I feel compelled to make. It’s such a privilege to have that as an artist.

The more unrestricted grants out there, the better. I look at what they are doing in Ireland with their Basic Income for the Arts and the studies that support it. They did really indepth research over a number of years and it clearly shows that adequately funding artists has impacts not only on the economy, but on all sorts of mental and physical health measures across the whole area. It just makes total sense in so many ways. More power to anyone able to facilitate that and who believes that’s the way forward, because it’s not just something that benefits artists, it benefits whole communities. The ripple effects of that are so wide they can’t be measured.