Can you start by giving us an overview of your practice and what led you to explore the intersection of feminism, sustainability, spirituality, and care?

I make mixed media works on paper exploring the aesthetics of candid imagery. My drawings are a way of curating my thoughts on paper. Something will inspire me, which triggers another thought, and another, until the picture is finished which is what gives the collage element to my work. My ultimate aim is for my art to reflect me, my inner and outer self. I’m beginning to be more explicit about my personal values; where there’s care, there’s tension and it’s this tension I try to harness in my figurative drawings. By capturing people unaware I’m documenting our true nature and revealing usually hidden feelings and behaviours. Underneath my work is a sensitive, playful, critical theory of art surrounding our interactions. Overwhelmingly my art is about connection: between us, to our ourselves, a higher being, and the earth. 

Your statement mentions that you are “interested in how our individual expressions of taste, formed through nature and nurture, interact to create our sensate world." How do you approach this in your figurative works?

Each person has their own style/energy/aura, as well as likes, dislikes and beliefs. I find it fascinating how our preferences (some inherent, some influenced) develop and change over time, mixing with our natural personalities to form our aesthetic selves. And how this bleaches into the material world – everything manmade was designed by someone. Visual culture is a clutter of tastes and it’s an artist’s responsibility to pick out their favourites to make something meaningful. I see every artwork as an aesthetic trifecta, manifesting the complicated relationships between artist, subject(s) and viewer. When I sketch a figure, it’s my impression of someone else’s expression. When it’s exhibited, the viewer’s impression of my expression completes the chain. Makes sense? 

Retail by Tabitha Gammer. Image courtesy of Tabitha Gammer

Your art conveys the rawness of human emotion, depicting unguarded moments of discomfort, desire, and disappointment. Could you share your approach to navigating and representing these complex sentiments in your work?

The beautiful thing about art is its ability to express what can’t be expressed in words. I treat art as a means of picturing the inexplicable situations we find ourselves in, be it emotionally, physically or spiritually. I collect candid photos which I trace to turn into drawings. From there it’s an intuitive process of decoration, redaction and annotation. The distinctive sparsity of my pieces is natural to me but it has a purpose too, giving a holistic view of what’s happening. You can either represent complexity with extreme detail or extreme dearth. All the negative space leaves room for the viewer to interpret the work. When it’s successful you should get a glimpse into our unfiltered selves. This view of our social realities exposes the emotions we’re often reluctant to show when we’re actively being perceived, encouraging emotive relation.

There isn’t a single book or article on the concept of candid in contemporary art. I set up my crit group Candid to begin a conversation surrounding chance, spontaneity and unpredictability. Anyone is welcome to share work - it’s a space to be inspired, get feedback and connect with other artists. It’s incredibly interesting when theory becomes content. Common signifiers we’ve identified between artworks are blur and ambiguity, probably arising from the conditions in which they were made. Controversy seems to be a criteria rather than a consequence of working in this way. You have to be careful (care, again!) to be mindful of ethics, drawing your own boundaries and prioritising respect over the final result.

Could you share more about your interest in socially engaged film and performance and how it informs your artistic practice? How do you translate elements from these mediums into your visual art?

I remember reading about the performance-installation ‘Sleeping Beauty’ by Taras Polataiko when I was seventeen. In it a woman lies ‘asleep’ on a plinth in a gallery space; members of the public can come and kiss her, both parties having signed a contract to say that if she opens her eyes they’ll get married. This remains one of my favourite artworks. Anything where control is relinquished by the artist to their subject(s), you end up with great results. I’m trying to translate this unpredictability into 2D. Another work that’s influenced me is a film, From Gulf to Gulf to Gulf, from Mumbai-based collective CAMP – a feature-length film of fuzzy footage filmed by sailors in the Gulf of Kutch documenting their hard work and ‘down moments’ playing chess. You’re invested despite being distant. I hope to create similarly touching, sometimes provocative work.

The Beast Above and the Beast Below by Tabitha Gammer. Image courtesy of Tabitha Gammer.

Your art explores the theme of collective responsibility, which is deeply woven into your practice. How do you translate this idea of shared accountability into your creative work? What meaningful messages about collective responsibility do you hope to convey through your art?

We’re so unbelievably disconnected from our natural way of living as a species. Humans are social, pack animals but more than a third of UK households are now people living alone. Our weird determination to be alone despite our loneliness is turning us reclusive. And isolation breeds anxiety and extremism. ‘It takes a village to raise a baby’ is so true. We can learn a lot from non-Western cultures where it’s common to be around loved ones a lot more. Our nearest and dearest can be nightmares but it’s natural to be irritated - then you laugh, then you’re tired, then you eat together, then you have a spat with someone else. It’s imperative we remember there’s safety in numbers. People have always provided protection, just now it’s against the stressors of modern life instead of predators. By evidencing our shared vulnerabilities through my unposed snapshots I’m showing what we have in common. We all have the same biological needs to survive. The approach to fixing our overcrowded world isn’t ignoring each other.

How has your involvement with organizations such as Oxfam and the charity Shout impacted your art, and do you see your art as a form of activism or social engagement?

Being a part of people-centred organisations has given me resilience and confidence as well as a sense of wellbeing; volunteering is underrated when it comes to self-care. I always get emotional during the prayers in church because it makes you realise how self-centred you can be. Time and time again I’m surprised by the selflessness of those who give up their time to help others often despite navigating difficult circumstances themselves. The infinite personalities you meet: the anger, needless and justified, of some of the general public and the loveliest gestures and words from others shows you the breadth of human experience. Art gives me an outlet to reflect on this. I don’t see my work as directly affecting things around me but it could trigger consideration on things. There’s a lot you don’t get to express in everyday life – having somewhere to vent your frustrations feels beneficial. The best art comes from emotion, positive or negative. Topics like violence against women and girls get me so wound up I can only communicate my arguments creatively. We expect to be harassed, patronised and abused. And the notion that equality has happened is ludicrous. There are so many countries across the world where women aren’t free. It really worries me that the people engaging in change often aren’t men. It should be them having the conversation, not us.

Love by Tabitha Gammer. Image courtesy of Tabitha Gammer.

How have recognitions such as being shortlisted for the RBA Rome Scholarship and awarded a Spike Island Associates membership impacted your artistic practice, and what opportunities have they opened up for you as an emerging artist?

It’s insane to receive recognition for your art, be it formal or a compliment from a friend. Artists can be a bit like footballers, as in sometimes we struggle to explain what we’re doing despite doing it being second nature. When someone sees your art and appreciates it, especially without any information, it means they’ve connected with something in it and consequently with you as a person. Being a part of the RBA’s Rising Stars exhibition was really special. I love group exhibitions because you’re a lot more likely to see something you like and being in them you get exposed to different audiences who might not usually scout out your work. Programmes like Spike Island Associates and Camden Art Centre Transformative Futures, which I attended when I was living in London, provide space to be unapologetic about being ‘a creative’, a term which used to make me retch. Disciplines are so mixed now it makes sense to be around a varied crowd with the same motivator of making work.

How does your writing intersect with your visual art, and do you see these two forms of expression influencing each other in your creative process?

My writing has been mostly private up until now but I’d like to begin sharing it. It’s very similar to my physical work, as in seeded with raw material, but a lot more literal. Taking the concept of candid into text, I intersperse real-life conversations with fiction. Finding the line between tapping into your personal experiences and oversharing where you’re comfortable is tricky. I write in the second person, which gives the same observatory vibe as my material body of work. I’m acting as a witness to someone else’s actions and taking what strikes me. Location features heavily in my writing. I recently moved back to South Oxfordshire where I’m from and my work has a strong sense of belonging now. It feels like where I’m meant to be and I’ve got so many ideas I want to work on. 

Gazelle by Tabitha Gammer. Image courtesy Tabitha Gammer.

Do you believe that engaging in artistic expression is a mode of nurturing? If so, what are the reasons behind this perspective?

I really, really care about my art. Any artist will tell you, the painstaking decisions over composition, scale, colour which go unnoticed by the viewer, seem of vital importance when you’re creating. If something goes wrong it’s gut-wrenching. For this reason, making art isn’t necessarily enjoyable but the buzz when it goes right is the best thing in the world. Making art is tapping into a different space beyond reality, having something ‘higher’ than everyday life to occupy you (nurture). It’s like toning a muscle. It hurts but cell by cell you’re refining your techniques and toughening your concepts to create something new.

What message or call to action would you like to leave our readers with?

We’re just animals like any other. We’re meant to breathe and breed and eat. You can’t trick nature, hence our exhausted minds and planet. We need to accept where we are now (over evolved and living in a broken system) and settle for a future of sustainable minimalism. Except it won’t be settling because it’ll be better and brighter and we can finally relax. STUFF is not a sufficient replacement for touch. Connection is everything and we can achieve it through ritual, through respect and through friendship. We’re aesthetically minded (aesthetics obsessed) – if the massive corporations currently destroying everything utilise this to cut through the mire of consumption created by cognitive capitalism, we might stand a chance further than the next 50 years. It’s when you travel to other countries that you’re reminded to appreciate your own culture. I visited Vietnam earlier this year and seeing the reverence for rice there, I came home thinking I must get into potatoes! Which flora can you name in your region; do you know what you can eat and what you can’t? We spend too much time indoors. Get out of the gym and clean up your environment because there won’t be any gains when the planet burns.

Read more about the artist here.

Cover image:

Surrounded by Men by Tabitha Gammer. Image courtesy of Tabitha Gammer.