Antonia Marsh on Soft Opening

July 25, 2018

Antonia Marsh offers an illuminating generation of artists yet another space and platform to explore; free from discrimination and subversive in its own right.

Nestled in the heart of London’s West End, Antonia Marsh’s Soft Opening resides beneath the bustle of the Statue of Eros; just meters from the turnstiles at Piccadilly Circus tube station.

Throughout her work, Marsh offers herself as a seamless binary between worlds in London and New York, offering her audiences insight into cross-pollinated art worlds and the informative emerging artists who accompany them.

Although based in London, Marsh frequently spends time in New York, whether it be to visit friends, see exhibitions or conduct studio visits.

Interview by John Buckley
Portrait by Sam Hiscox
All photography by Theo Christelis, courtesy of Soft Opening

With inconceivably rapid growth and success, Antonia Marsh’s Soft Opening has housed works from the likes of Frank Lebon, Harley Weir, Wilson Oryema, Grace Ahlbom, Theo White, Louis Morlet and Ryan McGinley. After moving to New York, it was there Marsh made her first curatorial imprint with Girls Only—an artist studio space and residency conceived for vastly under-represented female artists – making cameo appearances throughout the United States and Europe. Looking to the frequent turnover of work she experienced in New York, Marsh explains, “NYC taught me that work and shows and artists need to keep relevant and stay fresh, otherwise spaces begin to feel stagnant and un-exciting”. Working at a similar pace now, Marsh installs a new show every three-and-a-half weeks.

As well as boasting a roster of as many compelling emerging artists, as she does industry elite—Marsh admits that a Soft Opening book is on the horizon. Following her work with New York photographer Grace Ahlbom on her book Dreaming is Heavy Metal, and London-based artist Wilson Oryema on a short-run zine of poems entitled ‘Deux’—the end of her lease will see the release of a book championing the work of the artists Marsh has collaborated with along the way.

Much of Marsh’s success could in fact be owed to her humility and inherent ability to earn the trust of her collaborators. As well as her acute eye for fantastical aesthetic narrative, Marsh offers both her collaborators and audience something she suggests could be lost among galleries today: “To have a good, trusting relationship with an artist, takes work like any other relationship and the best part of my job is maintaining these relationships. Having a gallery is not just about checking boxes.”

Ryan McGinley's 'Spirit of Pride' overview

Starting with your most recent show at Soft Opening, can you shed some light on the covert missions of Louis Morlet and what drew you to the work, and Louis himself?

Louis and I got to know each other on long morning walks across Hampstead Heath where we’d talk about art and life and love and everything in between. Slowly he’d start pointing out areas in the park where the previous night he’d been secretly digging for clay and then we’d go to his studio where he’d show me what he’d been firing. This process is deliberately drawn-out and bears so much more meaning for the works themselves than if he had simply gone to the art store and bought a load of clay. Louis is thinking critically about the ontology of his work and the materials that make it up, which isn’t something you see an artist doing every day. There’s also a nice moment in showing this body of work in an exhibition space that’s underground, as if his works are being returned to the earth they came from.

Why Piccadilly Circus?

I first found the space because I walked past it, it’s as simple as that. There are lots of empty shop spaces and display cabinets in Piccadilly Circus Underground Station and for months I was fascinated by the fantasy of what would happen if an art object would be placed behind the glass there. As this fantasy developed, I began to think about how different a viewer’s experience of an artwork would be not only behind glass, but underground, in a space of flux and transport, associated with movement rather than a destination itself. The sheer amount of “visitors” - hundreds of thousands per month, is of course also an attraction, but rather than in commercial terms, I think it’s so interesting to imagine what kind of interactions people have with the space… what they think if they see it just out of the corner of their eye, if they stop and look for longer or even if they get totally used to the space as it becomes part of their daily commute. Of course, Piccadilly as an area in itself retains undeniable commercial associations: it’s the shopping and tourism centre of London and of course the majority of the commercial contemporary art galleries also locate themselves there. I love the idea that we are invading that space, cutting straight into the heart of an area that it usually takes a gallery decades to break into, just by thinking about space differently.

Quite obviously, Soft Opening is meticulously considered—other than your aesthetic tastes, can you talk me through the over-arching themes and narratives you find yourself most attracted to in the work of the artists you’ve collaborated with (whether it be as a curator, or member of the audience)?

I always get asked this question and I honestly believe it’s much easier for people to see those themes and narratives that thread through my curatorial work or shows at the gallery from the outside. It’s much harder to see those from within. However, at the moment, I’m looking for artists whose work subverts or reconfigures our understanding of the world around us. There’s definitely a fantastical element in the work I’m interested in, because I think fantasy is where we find our relief from reality and as such these aren’t too far off from one another. The next show, Go, is a group presentation of work from sculptors including Hamish Pearch, Kira Freije, Jamie Hawkesworth and Nevine Mahmoud among others, and each of these artists are examining material in an exciting way. Hamish and I have been curating the show together for a few months, and he’s building metal-look cardboard tables that will resemble airport security conveyors, so the sculptures will feel like they are travelling through the cyclical architecture of Piccadilly Circus station.

I try to think about the programming of the space curatorially rather than politically—as so many galleries do. I don’t show artists because it would be a “good move” but rather present work that I feel is relevant and important, and at a point in an artist’s career that feels beneficial, so that they can freely explore the model of a solo show without the commitment of doing it in a giant white cube space. Each show will engage with and respond to both its predecessor and that which will follow so that the space itself tells a kind of story. I want the programming to feel organic, in the same way that artworks on the wall of a well-curated show do.

Grace Ahlbom's 'Throw the horns, and rock out with your cock out somewhere else'

Can you tell me about rumors of a Soft Opening book? I know you worked with New York native, Grace Ahlbom, on her book Dreaming is Heavy Metal—do you see Soft Opening having a future in publishing? If so, are there any young artists you have your eye on?

I love that you heard these rumours! Yes, there are plans for a book towards the end of the three-year lease that we have in the station. It’ll be a Soft Opening anthology of everyone and everything that’s been exhibited. Because, why not? Young people need to be making history books too. Publishing Grace’s book was really fun, and it looks incredible. We also did a short run zine with Wilson Oryema of his new poetry, who has also fantastic to work with. Shipping has been less fun, but maybe we’d consider working with a distributor next time. I really respect publishers and bookstores; you really don't realise how much work goes into a publication until you do it yourself. We are doing a solo show with photographer Rosie Marks towards the end of this year, and I think we’ll do another book for that. Rosie has also been shooting portraits of all the artists that exhibit with us, and those will go into our final Soft Opening book project.

How did your work with Girls Only inform how you operate with Soft Opening?

I think Girls Only taught me a lot about mutual support between artists and curators / galleries. It was such a safe community atmosphere that I really feel is necessary in institutions of all scales. I spent so much time in artists’ studios with them that now the studio visit is an absolutely integral part of my practice as a curator. It’s so vital and so many galleries don’t bother with this face to face connection with an artist. To have a good, trusting relationship with an artist, takes work like any other relationship and the best part of my job is maintaining these relationships. Having a gallery is not just about checking boxes.

Can you tell me about the relationships you had with your peers in New York and how much of an impact that environment had on your approach?

New York is such a scary and exhilarating place, its effect on my approach is undeniable. We turn our shows over fast, every 3.5 weeks, which is definitely a reflection of the pace across the pond. NYC taught me that work and shows and artists need to keep relevant and stay fresh otherwise spaces begin to feel stagnant and un-exciting. There are so many galleries and so many artists in NYC that you have to be original and experimental to stand out, something I definitely also try to keep in mind and I think Soft Opening speaks for itself on that front.

Despite having worked with artists globally, your work feels very London-centric. What inspires you about London (if anything at all)? Further to that, are there any cities/communities you look to for inspiration in curation and offering artists a platform?

While I literally just championed the pace of life in NYC and I like to get a fix every now and then, I adore the slower pace in London. There’s still so much happening here, you just have to look for it a little harder. The distances you have to travel to get from place to place in London are much further so there’s much more time to think, I really appreciate that.

Tokyo is an absolutely mind-blowing city. I curated a show there a few years ago and would love to go back. Their interest in photography is unchallenged and they excel at publications. The reason for this is pretty charming too - because apartments are so small over there, there’s no space to hang art, which is why people put so much emphasis on collecting books, they fit into their homes. There’s also a real culture for DIY projects in Tokyo, people make things happen and it all comes from a humble place of sheer admiration and respect for an artist or medium. I can’t think of a more genuine reason to do anything.

Does your approach to curation vary from project to project, or do you work structurally?

It has to vary because of the varying nature of the work, but Soft Opening as a space has its own plethora of limitations in terms of access, display etc so there are specific installation requirements that definitely affect each show. These are often super productive for artists though and many of the shows will begin with the space and consider display before any decisions are made about what work will be shown. This is a reverse of the usual process for many bigger spaces and I think artists appreciate the challenge.

Ariana Papademetropoulos' 'Glass Slipper', 2018. Oil on canvas. Courtesy of the artist and Soft Opening; Willie Stewart's 'Some Scarecrows Have Lost Their Scare', 2018. Color pencil on illustration board, pigmented inkjet print on polystyrene board, and acrylic on linen over panel. Courtesy of artist and Soft Opening.

From Theo White to Ryan McGinley, you’ve explored many a medium, but seem to offer a focus to photography—what qualities do the photographers you’re most attracted to have in common?

It’s funny because this definitely wasn’t deliberate, even though I do have a personal soft spot for photography. It’s under-represented in the art world still, even though photographers like [Wolfgang] Tillmans are having enormous museum shows. I think it’s interesting to explore how photography can be displayed, and we are all so used to reading images these days, we do it all the time on our phones. So, thinking about who my audience is at Soft Opening, photography definitely doesn't alienate viewers where other mediums might.

How do you think the rise of the ‘influencer’ will affect the way in which young artists are perceived?

I don’t think it will have any effect, I definitely avoid this phenomenon as much as possible.

If you could curate a body of work by any artist (dead or alive), at any gallery/space, who would it be and where?

I would re-create Tracey Emin and Sarah Lucas’ The Shop in its original space on Bethnal Green Road and curate the work of young artists into it with them. They sold work by their mates and hung out there all day. Sounds dreamy…

Can you tell us who we can look forward to seeing at Soft Opening next?

We have Go, the group show that opens next week, then in September a solo show from Deborah Delmar, followed by an incredible artist who works in furniture, Dozie Kanu, then a Halloween spectacular from Claire Barrow, Rosie Marks’ first solo show, then a Christmas grotto from Amie Evelyn Hughes from GUT Magazine. It’s going to be a weird few months and I’m thrilled about it.

If you're in London, you can visit Soft Opening at Unit 7, Picadilly Circus Underground, 24/7. Currently showing is Louis Morlet’s Behold a figure, Serpentine, on view until July 29.

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Pamela Sneed’s Speaking Tongue opens at Dashwood Projects

November 15, 2024

Pamela Sneed’s latest exhibition, Speaking Tongue, will be on view at Dashwood Projects from November 20 to December 21. The show features twenty watercolor and ink paintings inspired by her recent trip to Kenya, where she was deeply moved by the elegance of giraffes, the landscapes, and the energy of Nairobi.

Blending her background as a poet and visual artist, Sneed’s work reflects on themes of identity, nature, and connection. Her paintings capture the beauty and spirit of the animals she encountered, alongside reflections on her own experiences as part of the African diaspora.

This exhibition marks Sneed’s first solo show with Dashwood Projects and will be accompanied by a new book, also titled Speaking Tongue, to be released in December.

By Enzo Holdt
Artworks by Pamela Sneed

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Tiebreaker - Alvin Armstrong

November 15, 2024

There is a moment of silence right before the play. Just before the racket strikes the ball as it hangs weightless in the air, breathless and charged. It’s the fleeting yet decisive instant that can alter the course of the match, determining who wins and who loses.

Alvin Armstrong depicts this crucial moment in his new exhibition Tiebreaker, symbolizing the risks and rewards of competition. It’s an implication of something else at stake, where athletes push not only their bodies, but their spirits to the absolute limit.

The dynamic figures embody the strength, grace, and agility juxtaposed by the vibrant color palette evoking not just the joy of competition but the charged energy of the court.

Tiebreaker is opening Thursday, November 16th at Anna Zorina Gallery.

By Rea Brayshaw
Artworks by Alvin Armstrong

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The Things People Are Ashamed To Take Photos Of: The Photography and Films of Yuhan Cheng

Yuhan’s latest exhibition of photo and video work titled 窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里 takes its namesake from what could’ve been a mundane encounter. A month after moving to New York City from Chengdu, China, they stumbled across an abandoned fish tank left curbside. It reminded them of “the rotating fish in a tank that faded into the background of their mother’s home in Chengdu”, a thread connecting childhood familiarity that transformed into a symbol of greater significance in adulthood. A tank is a world within a world; a microcosm secluded from the broader chaos of the outside. Since then Yuhan has captured the other kinds of “fish tanks” closest to them in their photography and short films. Not literal ones necessarily– but intimate confined spaces in Chengdu and NYC where time stands still.

In the midst of taking snapshots of loved ones, Yuhan decided to turn their tender but examining lens on themselves. They realized shooting self-portraits unraveled a deeper understanding of their own nonbinary gender and queer sexuality. Yuhan admits in one of their short films “I hide from looking at my own body.” Yet, in the seclusion of their room which doubles as a dark room, Yuhan began to develop their first nude photos chronicling the subtle wounds; bitten cuticles, bruises, and scrapes they’ve accumulated involuntarily, once again documenting the things people choose to hide.

窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里, debuted at FAR-NEAR Studio Hours a gallery in Chinatown focused on expanding the art world's view of Asia and Asian artists curated by Lulu Yao Gioiello. The event merged Yuhan’s works from the past three years, including 70 photographs, three short documentaries, and one installation. There was something uncanny about the gallery’s atmosphere – from the dollar store teal green curtains obscuring every window to the clusters of framed photos mimicking how photos of relatives are displayed in one’s childhood home, to the darkened lighting that was both disorienting and cozy. All these details were meticulously chosen to imitate the rooms depicted in Yuhan’s films and photography. In other words, the audience was invited to Yuhan’s “fishtank”, to share the odd balance of comfort and unease of being known intimately. We talked to Yuhan at Cafe Reggio to understand how their latest body of work came into being.

Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity.

Ora Margolis— Were any memories/childhood experiences you had in Chengdu important to how you've developed as an artist?

Yuhan Cheng— Growing up in Chengdu, especially in a military household, shaped and gave me a source of contention how I understood my identity. There was always a sense of conflict when it came to my body and feeling like I didn’t quite fit the expectations around me. This tension has been a driving force in my practice, pushing me to explore identity and belonging in my work.

Tell us a bit about your latest exhibition Outside the Window, Inside the Tank at Far. What headspace were you in when taking these photos?

YC— Outside the Window, Inside the Tank is about the fluidity of self; our bodies, our environments, and our identities. The idea of water as both a symbol of confinement and freedom is central to the photos and film that comprise the exhibit. This fluidity much like how I see my experience moving between Chengdu and New York, where similar feelings follow me no matter where I am. Water mirrors the body, the frame, and the room, which are all containers of the self.

Previously, you’ve said you wanted the exhibition space to look "like your room". How did you make that happen and why is your NYC room important to you?

YC— My room in NYC is an extension of my identity. It’s where I feel vulnerable and where I explore myself most openly. It’s a manifestation of my sense of self. I recreated certain elements in the exhibition—the green sheer curtains, the dollar store shower curtain with bubbles, and the center installation depicted a self-portrait deteriorating in water, reminiscent of a fish in a tank. This room, like any other room or container, magnifies the tension of self-exploration.

Has your idea or comfort with your gender identity and /sexuality changed since you’ve delved into photography?

YC— Yes. The process of photography and filming has been a mirror to my own understanding of self. Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity. The process of photographing my queer friends and then myself allowed me to come to terms with who I am.

How did you and Lulu Yao of FAR-NEAR Studio meet, and what makes her a good collaborator?

YC— We first connected when I reached out with my series Princess of Funan River. Lulu understood the struggles and complexities in the work and she invited me to expand on those ideas with her. Our collaboration has worked because Lulu truly resonates with the themes I’m drawn to, like fluidity, transformation, and the intimacy of navigating belonging.

After completing Fish Tank and Remnants of an Amateur Film, what kind of movie do you want to make next?

YC— Right now, I’m more focused on writing. I need to understand what I want to say before making another film. Writing helps me find clarity;it’s a crucial part of my process.

What kind of camera do you use and why?

YC— I use a Canon AE-1. I started with it and I still love it. It's small, spontaneous, easy to use, and light. It allows me to capture moments naturally without overthinking.

What's your biggest fear?

YC— Being disconnected from my sense of self, from others, and from the things I love.

When do you feel most like yourself?

YC— It’s during those fleeting moments when I complete a project. That feeling fades quickly, leaving me searching for the next project to reconnect with that sense of fulfillment.

How do you want people to feel when they interact with your art?

YC— I want them to feel whatever resonates with them. I don’t want to prescribe the experience; it should feel right for each person.

Your work focuses on the close knit communities that surround you or various metaphorical “fish tanks”. What communities do you feel closest to?
YC— The queer artist community, both in Chengdu and NYC, has been a source of comfort and understanding for me. There’s something about shared struggles and shared creative language that feels like home.

What's the biggest difference between living life as a queer artist in NYC and in Chengdu?

YC— In both NYC and Chengdu, I’m learning more about myself. NYC offers a sense of freedom, while Chengdu is home, a place of comfort and history. Neither place defines me but both are significant parts of my path.

What are your next moves/goals?

YC— I want to continue exploring both film and photography, expanding my narrative style and experimenting across mediums. During my show, I found new ways of seeing my photographs such as by adding a window screen between frames or letting a self-portrait fade and grow mold in water. These approaches allowed me to see my work not just as 2D images but as 3D objects.

I want to keep pushing the boundaries of how photo and film can interact, and I’m also interested in trying photojournalism. My focus remains on collaborating across mediums and continuing to accumulate experiences that I can translate into sincere honest work.