Ania Hobson: Fires Outside The Frame

June 20, 2022

Over the weekend, I got to visit Ania Hobson in her cozy London studio. It’d been an eternity since I’d smelt the strong but radiant scent of drying paint—my nose burning as I was stunned by the slight headrush on arrival. Since our last encounter, Ania’s emotionally-charged red palette has taken shape in form of fiery fires, creating a searingly soulful and bold aural experience for her viewers.

These new works feature distinct tonality in their colors and an evergrowing sense of mystery conjured by gazing upon her subject’s emotionless faces. Inspired by British subcultures and comic books from her childhood, Ania’s work often directs her subject's gaze towards the outside of the frame, leaving a sense of secrecy within her viewers, forcing their imagination to speculate and wonder.

Text and Images by Olisa Tasie-Amadi Jr.

Now, debuting her first exhibition in LA, Ania has begun to slowly unveil what exists outside the frame: hands reaching in, the gaze becoming ever-so-centered, and a full image taking shape as the fires in her paintings kindle more than ever, radiating notions of self-healing and an unwavering spirit of empowerment.

In our conversation, we discussed her latest exhibition, art as a form of therapy, a profound love for coats, and much more.

Let’s start with your most recent exhibition in LA, “Playing with Fire”—tell me about the symbolism referenced behind the recurring motif of fires and flames in your work.

I picked “Playing With Fire” because I like looking at emotions as it is with my figures. It can also be something dangerous, romantic, angry, or even just deeply passionate. I think it says a lot about that being a survival thing for us. It’s comforting but also dangerous if it gets out of hand. It’s all those things I was looking at. The drawing there was called “Call Me Emotional”, and it was based on women being called crazy, and I wanted these ladies to be angry but very strong and powerful in themselves. It’s like an army marching toward the viewers.

Speaking about your work being very emotionally charged, would you say that informed your decision to shift to a dominantly red color palette?

The red definitely for me was an emotional thing for me that expressed what I was going through at the time—a really bad break-up. I was so angry and it felt horrible, but suddenly my paintings went red which was shocking, and at the same time, really beautiful too. It just did something to me and I really enjoyed it.

Some of your earlier paintings do feature the subtle red outline around the subjects too, so would you also say it also sparked around that time?

The background being more red was around the break-up, yes. In terms of the outlines being red, I think that might’ve started seven years ago, but it was more to reference blood, reminiscent of when you’d hold your hand up to the light and there’s that slight appearance of the red haze almost. It really made the figure pop out, but also add life to the paintings. So now, for me, the paintings aren’t alive yet or finished if the red outline isn’t present.

Now exhibiting more across the US, do you feel there’s been a difference in how your work is received over there, in comparison to the UK art scenes and its audience, acknowledging your work deals entirely with British society and the varying subcultures?

Erm… not really, no. I think more because a lot of my interest has always been in the US. In the UK, I’ve had the occasional group shows, but the majority of my collectors or galleries have always been from the US. Honestly, wouldn’t know why but I think because it’s quite bold or out there, maybe that’s why. A lot of people have told me they could see why the Americans might like it, maybe because of the style I think. As long as I’m painting and they’re being seen, then I’m happy.

And as you continue exhibiting, and evidently being more present in the US, do you see your work capturing images of life on that side of the pond?

I don’t think so, probably not. Obviously, when I went to LA I did the Joshua Tree National Park and I also love people-watching, so I was definitely inspired being there. The colors in LA also being so much beige and red, I felt like I could create so much while I was there. I really enjoyed my time there. I think anywhere that you travel, you will always come away with something, whether it’s a person, color, smell, or even being in that moment.

Sounds like we should expect a move over to LA at some point…

It’s funny because I could actually see myself being in LA, and people tell me it’s quite weird, but I really do love it there. It’s really great because you’ve got the desert for a few hours, and then we did the Sequoia, and then Malibu Beach for a day. It was so fun, and coming from the UK, it’s massive. The scale for me is something you just don’t get anywhere else. I also wondered what I could do in a painting with the desert, so that’s been playing in my mind a ton.

The last time we spoke, a lot of the subjects of your paintings still embodied the outlooking gaze to either side of the frame which you said comes from the inspiration from comic books and what happens in the next scene. With this recent exhibition, we’ve begun seeing a slight change with the subjects now having a more forward gaze, directly at the viewers or at themselves in the frame. What informed this change and how does it speak to the underpins behind your work?

The outward was to certainly draw attention to something going outside the painting. And now, as I’m starting to capture a lot of the social scene and themes along that line, a lot of the gaze is directed towards the viewer a lot more. One drawing I’m doing is called “social anxiety”, and we know that people who have that always feel like everyone is staring at them, but they’re really not. So it’s supposed to create this image of you walking into a bar, and now the subject is looking in your direction, essentially you becoming part of the conversation going on in the painting. I want the audience to engage with the painting beyond just viewing.

Noting the other colors also present in those paintings, besides the red, is each one representative of a different emotion, or are the colors acting in different forms to portray that one singular motif of emotion?

Yeah, I think color is so important. With the blue and yellow in this one, it’s a cool and calm feeling. And in the tunnel, there isn’t much going on so it’s a more relaxed scene happening in this painting at night. The dark blue car was also me wanting it to be kind of quiet within the painting.

Beyond attention to detail with the colors and tonality, is there any other facet of the art that you feel plays a seminal role in its creation?

Composition and coats actually. I just love doing coats. I love the shapes of them. They make me sort of play around with the paint and the movement of the paint. I can do certain brushmarks and I like the direction it's moving which would usually move in the way the coat would fall or where the falls would be. It adds so much depth to the painting. I also love shapes so much, like in a painting I did where her shoulders are really not anatomically correct, but I love how the coat just sat on her shoulders. I have so many coats, so when it comes summertime I’ve got nothing to wear, just coats and a lot of boots… that’s why I’ve got them all around the studio.

On composition, I also noticed you have the line tattoo going down your arm. Does that relate to your paintings in any way?

I love tattoos that are in line with the body. Bodies have such a nice shape and everything is so angular. I love the shapes you can create with the body, and I think it’s all about alignment and the way the body is structured. It’s just beautiful.

I also love that you reference other parts of pop culture like fashion in your work, and I’m curious if there are any other forms of pop culture or creative expression that you pull inspiration from like music, literature, film, or even performative arts?

When I listen to music, and for anyone really, you’re sort of put in a place. And for me, that’s a place of drawing… creating scenes and images in my head. I could also be sitting in a bar, and I’m such a people watcher, so I might spot someone walking a certain way and the light just hitting them perfectly. People also think I’m a bit weird because I love people-watching so much. I think I’m quite discreet so I guess I’ve never had any weird moments when I’m watching. I like music without lyrics a lot more, especially instrumental music, because it’s down to me or whoever to create their own story along with the song. I love jazz, rap, or really anything. It’s a little bit of everything. I’ve also just been really visual because I was born partially deaf, so as a kid I was always looking or lip-reading which is why the face became so important for me.

On finding therapy within your paintings—you being the artist reflecting her emotions onto the canvas, do they ever speak back to you and help you find resolution with your feelings?

Yeah, I think it’s always been my go-to when I want to chill out, except when you’re trying to hit deadlines, then you’re panic painting. But certainly, I do find when I’m not painting much, I feel much different. Some days I could feel really stressed and anxious, and when I start painting it just totally disappears. It’s like meditation and it’s my world. I don’t know who the hell I would be without painting, it’s simply me.

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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.