Sarah Maple Calls Out the Artworld - by Kate Bryan

It is a time for reckoning in the art world, where straight white men have dominated both the commercial and institutional aspects of the art establishment for centuries. Sarah Maple, born in Eastbourne in 1985, was compelled to address structural sexism and racism in her work even as an art student, where she noticed that female students were given less air time and respect. Whilst still at college, she created the first of her self-portrait series, a triptych which borrows the person-holding-sign-with-text motif of the great YBA era artist, Gillian Wearing. From left we see Maple dressed in traditional Muslim attire, coyly smiling, her sign reads “I wish I had a penis”. This is followed by Maple in only red lipstick, bra and knickers with a franker expression and sign, “because then I’d fuck you”. Finally, we see her in a suit with red tie smugly smiling “then steal your job.” The appalled and shocked response from her professor and some of her classmates was a catalyst for Maple embracing provocation in her work and adopting an attitude that shone a big, noisy and often funny light on the elephant in the room.

A decade later and Maple has harnessed this frustration, dismay and disappointment in prevailing attitudes into mature and thought- provoking work that challenges ideas around identity, religion, race, the artworld, feminism and freedom of expression.  Often using herself as a conduit to challenge stereotypes and normative behaviour, Maple is adept at confronting complex issues that we are all thinking about with wit, irony and a startling honesty. Maple’s own mixed religious and cultural background informs much of her work and her latest exhibition, which I am honoured to curate, is a timely exploration into the systemic race, class and gender barriers in the artworld.

Maple’s title, Nazi Sexy Shark Show, arbitrarily takes its name from words with the highest ‘click through’ appeal and includes painting, text-based marble works, collage, photography and video. The focal point of the exhibition is a ground breaking series of short films. Maple has essentially invented an ‘art-com’, fusing video art with sitcoms. Exploring her experience of being an outspoken artist, each film is a semi-autobiographical piece, a heightened reality that draws influence from Extras and Curb Your Enthusiasm as well as seminal artists such as Cindy Sherman and Sarah Lucas. Often absurd, and always biting in its commentary, the films are championed by those that agreed to take part, sending themselves up as they did so. David Tenant, a real-life collector of Maple’s work, plays an egocentric and less than generous version of himself which is filmed at ‘Crawley Soho House’ (in reality the top floor of 76 Dean Street after Nick Jones couldn’t resist her idea).

The piece also includes the seminal artist Sonia Boyce, much talked about for being first black woman artist to represent Britain at the next Venice Biennale. She also has a run in with seasoned art critics Will Gompertz and Nikki Bedi. My cameo takes me to an uncomfortable place as I perform as a bad feminist version of myself, instructing Maple with sexist, racist and patronising advice which is based on Maple’s own experiences.  The art-com is a meta experience, blurring the line between fiction and reality. This is heightened by the fact that concurrent to being exhibited in a gallery, the piece will also be available to view in the U.K. on Sky Arts as short films– a channel which is now free to view. By positioning her work in people’s homes in this way, Maple is able to break down elitism that pervades the artworld, adapting the power of video art to include the accessibility of a sitcom.

Another work that bends reality is the photographic series, Portraits With Fans. We see Maple reluctantly posing grumpily for photographs with her adoring fans – some of the great male artists of our time: Damien Hirst; Jeff Koons; Grayson Perry; Anthony Gormley; Anish Kapoor; the Chapman Brothers; Marc Quinn; Mat Collishaw; Martin Creed; Olafur Eliasson, Wolfgang Tillmans and Matthew Barney. All perfectly photoshopped, Maple reverses the tables on these seasoned art world names, making them ridiculous in their fandom of a young, mixed race female artist. In her Celebrities in Stone series Maple plays with truth instead of fiction. The ingenious tablets present real-life tabloid headlines carved in marble such as Meghan Markle’s Avocado Snack Fuels Human Rights Abuses and Kim Kardashian Goes Topless With A Parakeet. Akin to ancient roman treasures, the new permanence of the medium highlights the facile and inane nature of ‘news’.

Maple also presents unreservedly joyful and exquisitely put together work such as the hand cut collage series that celebrates the female form in a vortex of beautiful shapes and colour. A parallel series about women, Clocks, employs digital collage to juxtaposes a selection of The Sun’s topless Page 3 Girls with their heads replaced by old fashioned clocks. The combination of imagery is drawn from being a young woman coming of age in the U.K in the nineties and the series highlights biological pressure on all women.  Her large painted self- portrait, Self Portrait with Preceptor is also a subtle but striking work, one that removes artifice and lays the artist’s soul bare. She sits in front of a blank canvas facing the viewer, making us either her accomplice or critic, with her mother lovingly standing beside her, waiting for the work to reveal itself. A meditation on the role of the artist and potential family issues surrounding making such personal artwork, it is a quiet, reflective painting. In the Jealous Gallery window, a Neon asks ‘Why Art’ almost rubbishing her whole endeavor. Maple is a provocateur, insisting we pay attention to the hypocrisies and dangerous elitism of the artworld. But she also rejoices in the artworld she despairs at, her power is to unpick the system with disarming satire and wit. It’s a timely show and we need artists like Maple to both ask and beautifully answer ‘Why Art’ with exhibitions like this.

Not My CUP OF TEA exhibition - by Armindokht shooshtari

With blueprint style room plans marked out on the gallery floor, the exhibition layout here in the Mezzanine Gallery is inspired by Lars von Trier’s controversial avant-garde drama film Dogville (2003). Set during the time of Great Depression in the United States, the film takes place in a small fictional town. In this movie von Trier uses a minimal and stage-like set to tell the story of Grace, a young fugitive on the run from a group of gangsters. She takes refuge in the isolated town of Dogville. The small community reluctantly agrees to hide her. In return Grace offers all citizens an hour of work a day – a chance to prove she is good and trustworthy. Grace’s situation rapidly degenerates and her service becomes exploited as slave labour. Finally the residents of Dogville decide to turn her in for a reward from the gangsters. However the gang boss turns out to be Grace’s father, so Grace decides to remove Dogville from the world by ordering the gangsters to kill the citizens and burn the town. In an interview von Trier argues that “Dogville is about the United States but it’s also about any small town anywhere in the world”. For Maple, Dogville and Grace’s story and suffering symbolise the vulnerable place of political or economic refugees in our world today. As such, Maple has drawn the aesthetic of von Trier’s film into this show, with five carefully designed spaces drawn out on the floor and labelled with a title indicating the ideas within.

NAE is delighted to present a show of newly commissioned works by award winning artist, Sarah Maple, runner up of NAE’s 2012 exhibition, ‘Culture Cloud’ and the recipient of the 2015 Sky Academy Arts Scholarship. Maple is known for her bold, brave, mischievous and occasionally controversial artworks that challenge our perceptions of cultural and religious identities. Much of Maple’s inspiration originates from being brought up as a Muslim, with parents of mixed religious and cultural backgrounds. Through satirical humour, in this exhibition Maple is looking at the sharp rise of xenophobia and Islamophobia in recent years, as well as how certain communities are ‘othered’ and alienated in political narratives, thus effecting public opinion. Since 9/11, and more recently following the terror attacks in Europe, Muslim communities have been increasingly under pressure from the media and politicians to justify their viewpoints and condemn the tiny minority who have committed abhorrent atrocities in the name of the Islamic faith. Generalisations and oversimplification of the root and causes of Islamic extremism and the rise of home-grown jihadists in Europe, has resulted in hostility and prejudice towards Muslims. In this exhibition, Maple explores current underlying anxieties and timely questions around integration and how terrorism in the name of Islam is affecting the religion and the daily lives of its followers to show approval; and during the Hajj pilgrimage (especially in Day of Arafah). Historically the phrase is also used as a battle cry during wars; it is believed that it was first used by Prophet Muhammad himself during the Battle of Badr, the key battle in the early history of Islam against Mecca’s pagan tribes. For many in the west, the phrase ‘Allahu Akbar’ is however linked with terror, often recounted by witnesses as the last words of Islamist terrorists shortly before committing outrageous attacks on innocent people. Aware of the sensitivity and uncomfortable connotation of the expression for some non-Muslims who are influenced by the negative portrayals of Islam in the media, here Maple uses supersized text in a popular format to force visitors to confront and potentially rethink their gut-response to the phrase.

THE ZONES

Living Room is the first marked out space in the show; here Maple explores a range of contested social and political issues that flood our national media, and asks timely questions around integration and the meaning of ‘British Values’. Occupying the centre of the gallery is A Man’s Home Is His Castle, presenting a large children’s cardboard castle, the main prop for her live performance with the same title on Saturday 12 August as part of the exhibition. Within this space the artist explores the emotional and physical challenges faced by displaced and homeless people across the world. In #KeepOneShareOne, Maple invites visitors to take her posters, but on the proviso that they take two, keeping one for themselves and sharing the other one. Safe Space and Speaker’s Corner are carefully placed opposite each other in the gallery, both exploring themes related to freedom of speech in our society today.

 THE EXHIBITS

Allahu Akbar is a newly commissioned sculptural light installation by Maple. Sitting at the heart of the exhibition, in its appearance, the piece is a reminder of the neon text works created throughout the twentieth and early twenty-first century by renowned artists such as Bruce Nauman and Tracey Emin. Resembling glossy commercial advertising signs, the constant flashing text and its bright red colour convey a sense of playfulness, which is in stark contrast with the significance of the phrase itself. ‘Allahu Akbar’ is a common Arabic expression often translated in English as ‘God is [the] greatest’ or ‘God is Greater’. Both a formal and an informal declaration of faith, it is used in various contexts by Muslims globally, including in the call for prayer broadcast from mosques (adhān); during daily prayer; in times of distress and fear or to express joy, gratitude and determination; following the birth of a child and in funerals. The artwork is comprised of number of individual light bulbs, some of which continuously flicker, reminiscent of faulty domestic lamps or shop signs, where one’s immediate reaction would be finding a way to ‘fix’ the problem. Contextually, this faulty appearance of the piece alludes to the lazy generalisation and simplified solutions to the so-called ‘Muslim Problem’ promoted by politicians such as Donald Trump. Sweeping gestures such as banning entry to the US for citizens from certain Muslim countries for example, will only serve to agitate rather solve the complex and entrenched problem of extremism. Simply titled Brexit, is a new body of staged photographs based around the language used during the Brexit campaign. Over the spring/summer of 2016, Maple began to notice a repetition of particular slogans in the media that spread across the country. Tantalising slogans such as, ‘take back control’ and ‘I want my country back’ as well as claims to reassert British sovereignty were used relentlessly by the Leave campaign. Maple has collected such slogans and visually juxtaposed these with the idea of being quintessentially British. She states: “2016 has made me think about what exactly British values are. During the Brexit campaign, many people voiced a feeling of nostalgia for ‘the good old days’. I am interested in what ‘idea’ of Britain people would like to return to, and if this could ever be feasible in the modern age.” Filled with humour and ironic twists on the idea of being quintessentially British, the series aims to explore how, when discussing the idea of ‘returning to British values’, this only appears to be achievable at the expense of migrants and refugees. During the EU referendum right wing politicians and the media also used slogans that alluded to a sense of rightful ownership and entitlement, that somehow ‘we’ have earned our country of heritage and the displaced want to take something that ‘belongs’ to us. In her poster, Life Lottery, featuring the image of a new born baby, Maple challenges this viewpoint by reminding the viewer that our national identity is determined by luck. The artwork recalls Cecil Rhodes famous quote, “Remember that you are an Englishman, and have consequently won first prize in the lottery of life.” The rhetoric around Brexit resulted in considerable anti-foreigner sentiments. During the weeks immediately after the Brexit vote, recorded levels of hate crime rose in the UK considerably. Maple is particularly concerned with how certain communities are ‘othered’ and alienated in political narratives. The ‘othering’ or the process of casting a group of people as ‘different’ is neither a new social phenomenon nor a problem exclusive to Britain. Throughout history and across the world many communities have been, and continue to be, marginalised because of their race, religion, class, sexual orientation or political views. Muslim communities and refugees are the current major target of ‘othering’ in many countries across Europe and in the US. This has inspired some of the artworks on display in this exhibition including the Go Home globe and a short video titled The National Lottery, made in the same format as the popular reality television programme Wife Swap, in which two families, usually from different social backgrounds and lifestyles, swap homes for a period of time. Set in a recognisable British suburban house, a British man is preparing to swap house with a refugee from Calais, however the new house sitter is not what the family was expecting.

Earlier in her practice Maple regularly addressed the struggle of being mixed-race – the attempt to integrate and failing as you do not fit into one category. In 2008 she held an exhibition inspired by her background of being a Muslim with mixed parentage. Maple’s father is white British and her mother is Indian. There was a widespread backlash against one of the artworks displayed, a signature style self-portrait which depicts Maple in headscarf cuddling a pig, a reflection on her biracial identity. This experience had a profound effect on Maple’s personal life and her artistic career. “In the years after this incident I vowed I would remain strong and never be deterred by threats. However, after the Charlie Hebdo shooting in 2015, I began to think again on the ‘limits’ of free speech today. I realized I had not discussed my Islamic heritage in my work since the threats had been made. I began to wonder if I had been subconsciously silenced by these threats.” Fascinated by the concept of Freedom of Speech and where we draw the line, some of the artworks presented in this exhibition ask fundamental questions about how ‘free’ Western society actually is. Inspired by Speakers’ Corner in Hyde Park, and Nottingham’s very own Speakers’ Corner in Old Market Square, Maple has created her own platform for free speech in the gallery. Visitors are also welcomed to take to the stand in Maple’s Speakers’ Corner and express their thoughts and ideas, whatever they might be. However, before doing so, visitors must first read the disclaimer and check they are in fact eligible to step up to the podium. Here Maple is challenging whether all voices are equal and if the opportunity to be heard, is indeed open to all. Sitting exactly opposite the Speakers’ corner is Safe Space; Maple is also interested in the notion of ‘safe space’, with a dedicated zone in the gallery marked out for said activity, and whether ‘safe space’ actually jeopardises the act of free speech. The idea behind safe space is to provide an environment where people of all backgrounds can feel confident that they won’t be exposed to discrimination, marginalisation, harassment, criticism or any other forms of physical or emotional harm. Commendable as a concept, its critics believe safe spaces, especially in educational institutions, impede honest debates on sensitive matters and limit free speech. Reflecting on the ideology behind safe space and her own experience of receiving severe criticism over some of her works, Maple is interested in how this controls what one can and cannot say. “There is a feeling that the public are unsure how to talk about Islam and the fear of causing offence hinders the conversation. This has left us in a limbo state where we know there is a serious issue that needs discussion but constructive conversations and actions are not taking place.”

bawdy pricks – sarah maple's cock series

January 20, 2015

By Anne Swartz, Professor of Art History at Savannah College of Art and Design.

In Cock Series, Sarah Maple sarcastically explores and debunks the phallic power of the penis. This on-going serial body of work currently includes seventeen color, vertically-oriented rectangular photographs made from 2012-present. In them, the artist poses in a three-quarter view and positions an object in one hand in the location where an erect penis would be projecting diagonally from her body—play-acting and en-acting that she has a “penis.” She minimizes the symbolism of masculine dominance, favoring instead an embrace of its comical, more pleasurable aspects. Maple presents a complicated feminist consideration of the penis in relation to the female body.  

In these images, the artist is clothed and seen holding various objects. Her outfits typically match the setting or scenario in which she is located. The penis surrogate she holds or the particular surroundings where she stands provide the title for each of the works. In Garden Cock, as example, is set in a backyard garden where the artist holds a diagonally positioned electric hedge trimmer, wearing a gardening frock. Her long black trademark shag haircut, the curves of her physique, and her costumes, jewelry, make-up mark her outwardly as female. The facial expressions change in the images, ranging from confrontational swagger, as in Maple Banana Cock, or bland gaze, as in Cup Cock. Her performance with the objects in the place of male genitals emphasizes that the artist counterfeits the penis, making it farcical; that she is cis gender marks her use ironic. Repeatedly, Maple sarcastically subverts the conventions of fashion photography where the model stands temporarily still but ready to engage in some romanticized activity. Her performative photos are shot in routine environs, role playing in conventional female social roles. Her provocations transform the mundane into something erotically inventive and hilariously incendiary. She uses the fantasy about pleasure in looking at the beautiful girl and her life as a way to inflame her images and arouse the viewer’s passions about looking at her and her work.  

This series grew out of a silly game the artist played. Bored while working at a shop, she started taking objects and pretending they were cocks to amuse herself. She said about these gestures, “I wanted to almost mock it, or mock it’s [sic] importance. But at the same time it’s my way of proudly adorning myself with one!” She uses the penis as the index of ideal masculinity and showcases the thrill and silliness of a girl’s desire for it. She first explored such play in her art beginning in 2010 when she produced Ich Liebe Dick, a triptych of her face forward in the picture plane with a red background, variously holding, biting, or mouthing a miniature plastic penis at different angles. Akin to what the Riot Grrls proclaimed in their 1991 manifesto, “…we must take over the means of production in order to create our own moanings,” Maple coopts the penis to use it for her own bemusement. 

For her, the penis is a play thing. The woman artist holding a phallic object or positioning herself in proximity to penis play has a tradition in contemporary art. It is seen in portraits and self-portraits by Meret Oppenheim, Louise Bourgeois, Eva Hesse, Lynda Benglis, Sarah Lucas, Aurel Schmidt. The serial component of this on-going group of works takes the macho gesture of the erect penis and makes it comic. What distinguishes Maple’s Cock Series works from the earlier examples is the humor. We come away laughing at her joke.

REORIENT – Middle Eastern Arts and Culture Magazine

The Marvellous World of Miss Maple

By Joobin Bekhrad
 

Misunderstood, maligned, and massively cool: Miss Sarah Maple

She looks like a Rolling Stone, digs the Smiths, and wishes she had a penis so she could ‘fuck you and then steal your job’. I think she’s quite cool, but – believe it or not – there are others who’d rather see her dead. Some of Sarah’s portraits, most notably those of her smoking like a badass in a white hijab, have been doing the rounds on the Internet for quite some time. Oftentimes they are taken out of context, like Rumi poems gone wrong in a bookstore calendar; and, being the beast of urgency it is loved and loathed for, social media hasn’t given much space for a bit of much-needed background information. This, in addition to the artist’s withdrawn nature and hesitancy to engage with her online audiences, is perhaps why she’s been branded a blasphemer, heretic, and overall no-do-gooder (is that even a term?). Some might be surprised to discover that, contrary to the impression some of her pieces may give, Sarah has never intended to take a jab at religion, and that there are so many other dimensions of her work and outlook – her near-militant feminism and hybrid Iranian-English identity, for example – that are often overshadowed by holier-than-thou discourse.

Anyway … as Sarah’s got a fab new book out – You Could Have Done This – I thought I’d use that as an excuse to get to know the spunky girl behind the shaggy bangs.

Sarah! You’ve mentioned that you found it difficult to fit into your surroundings growing up in southern England. Why?

At the time (and even to an extent now), the place I grew up in was completely white. When I went to learn to read the Koran, there were about five children in the class and two of them were my siblings! My mum remembers me asking as a child if we were ‘the only Muslims in the world’ – hah! I think it was difficult because I was different, but still sort of looked like most people, as I’m white. I have mixed parents: my mum is a Muslim who was born in Kenya (but is of Iranian heritage), and my dad is white British, so there was that conflict in the home, too – completely different cultures under one roof. When I was 11, my mum sent us all to Catholic school, because there weren’t any Muslim schools, and she wanted us to have a religious influence. My friends call me their favourite Catholic Muslim! I think I felt guilty about having any connection to my British side.

It was only as an adult that someone said to me, ‘You are half and half, and it’s okay to embrace British culture’. I began to think about how a lot of British Muslim kids could get messed up over it, as there is the pressure from family to stick with culture and religion; but you’re surrounded by the opposite of that. I think a lot of Muslim kids live a double life, and that’s why in a lot of my work I mix the two. I enjoy that juxtaposition of imagery reflecting how absurd it is. I am currently researching this for my next body of work, and how it relates to extremism.

How does it relate to extremism, in your opinion?

I think there are possibly some young and vulnerable adults who aren’t sure of their place in the world, and are torn between two cultures, and I think a lot of them don’t have a true understanding of Islam. And identity is so important; I think a sense of identity has a lot to do with it as well.

It’s interesting that you’ve talked in the past of wanting to be a ‘good Muslim’, as many of your detractors feel you’re anti-Islam.

That is the assumption, yes! And I can understand it to a degree. Maybe if I saw this work offhand I’d think I was taking the piss out of Islam. Many people don’t actually realise I was raised as a Muslim. I was never having a go at the religion itself; I was more frustrated at the hypocrisy of some Muslims. I have a different perspective now as the world is changing, and I feel differently about religion. Even though I am a Muslim, I still don’t feel I know enough. I have only read the Koran in Arabic – a language I can’t speak! And other things I’ve learnt have been passed down to me from my family. I don’t actually have my own understanding, and I think that is the truth for many British Muslims. For my new body of work, I am starting to research for myself and see what comes from that.

Speaking of detractors … who are the people that want to kill you? Or is this all in the past now?

I’m not sure. I sometimes find the cat looking at me in a funny way though …

Do you have anything to say to them?

Please don’t! I’m nice!

But how do you deal with all the hate mail you receive? I’ve personally found that the ‘delete’ key can be a beautiful thing.

I would be lying if I said it didn’t rile me up a bit; I do take things personally. I haven’t had any in a while, though I may get some with my next show, as I think it will press some buttons. I think I will get some hate from a whole new community of people, which will be interesting! I suppose it’s to be expected. I wonder how artists back in the day would have coped with social media. I’m not sure how helpful it is with all these voices in your ear … I try and keep off of it as much as I can now so I can concentrate on my work – otherwise you end up making nothing.

Definitely. Now, what’s the funniest comment you’ve ever received? I mean funny in a bad way, of course … as in, so bad, it’s funny. 

Oh my God – so many! And I’m often laughing incredulously at comments online. One that has stuck to me is from last year, a response to my Anti-Rape Cloak series. Someone said, ‘With a face like that, who would want to rape her?’ But my all-time favourite, which I often use in my biography, is, ‘Sarah Maple is only successful for being attractive and Muslim’. That one made me chuckle.

Hey, at least the individual called you attractive, unlike the other one. To change the subject – you’re often compared to Tracey Emin, and have even poked fun at the whole situation in an artwork. Has she had anything to say about all of this?

Hah! Well, a few years ago she mentioned me as an artist to look out for in an interview, which was extremely exciting for me. That’s all I know … It’s funny, because our work isn’t really similar at all (although I do really like a lot of it), but often the majority of people can’t think of any other contemporary female artists, unfortunately!

So who should they be thinking of, then? 

Barbara Kruger, Jenny Holzer, Gillian Wearing, Marlene Dumas, Sonya Boyce, Anthea Hamilton, Sarah Lucas, Paula Rego … These are a few of my faves, who are obviously classics!

Yeah, the Lucas reference is kind of in-your-face. I must admit I’m quite relieved to hear you say this; our Tumblr feed is overflowing with images of Frida Kahlo! What about Iranian artists? Have there been any who have influenced you?

I love Shadi Ghadirian – her work is so brilliant and clever. The Like Everyday series was the kind of work where you’re like, Damn, I wish I’d thought of that! It’s just so funny and bold, and I love when artists use humour. There’s also Shirin Neshat, of course, and Sara Rahbar, who does incredible textile work. Such beautiful stuff!

And the whole armpit hair business … was that a nod to Patti Smith, or am I getting carried away?

I love Patti, but that wasn’t a Patti reference!

It was worth a try. Now Sarah, there are quite a few Iranians of mixed heritage working in the diaspora, whose works are often referenced when talking about contemporary Iranian art. You seem to be outside these circles, though; is it intentional, or have things just turned out that way? 

I think it’s just turned out that way because I always felt I couldn’t claim to be Iranian, as my mother was born in Kenya, and her mother was born in India; but the family line of both of my great-grandparents is Iranian. I wasn’t sure what I was, so I sort of kept quiet about it, until recently. I’m not sure if I would be recognised as an Iranian artist now! It also doesn’t help that people seem to think I’m Turkish. It’s the whole Emin link!

… I don’t regret anything, because I’ve made my art with integrity and not with any malice. The only problem with having difficult backlash like I have is that you are sort of never the same.

Yeah, and I guess you’re similar in that respect. I mean, she’s half-Cypriot Turkish, but you don’t really hear her being called a ‘Turkish artist’. It has to do with the nature of one’s work and how they identify as an artist, I guess. But speaking of Iranians – what have they had to say about your work?

Iranians are always supportive, and seem proud I have Iranian roots! I told my mum that Iranians like my work, and she said, ‘Yeah, yeah, but Iranians aren’t that religious’. Hah!

That reminds me of a quote by Charles James Wills I used in a recent piece about the history of wine in Iran: ‘The people were a laughing, careless set, devoid of fanaticism, having indeed very little religion’. OK. Tell me about this new book of yours … You Could Have Done This.

It’s my first book of selected work up until 2015. It came out last year (published by KochxBos Books in Amsterdam), and was a very proud moment for me. There is something special about a book. I wondered how I would even fill it, as I didn’t realise just how much I’d made over the years. The title is from a piece of mine called You Could Have Done This. It seemed fitting.

Could have done what?

It was a joke about people who look at contemporary art and go, ‘I could have done that’, which always makes me laugh.

Yeah, you kind of feel that way when you see Bowie-as-Warhol pissing on his prints in Basquiat: I could have done that! But I didn’t. But to get back to the book – there’s a painting in there … Self-Portrait with my Cat and Grandparents. I know it’s very special to you. Why is that?

Yes. I’ve kept it, and it’s hung up in my house. I started this painting of me and my cat, just to have something to paint, because I had an upcoming show and was really stuck. While I was painting it, my grandmother passed away, which was a huge shock to the whole family, and that made me rethink a lot of things. I also learnt a lot about my grandfather, who passed away when my mum was 10, so I never met him. I had always imagined him being this religious and pious man, but then heard from the family that he had been a bit of a rebel – which pleased me a great deal! I almost felt a sense of relief. There is definitely a rebellious side to my family; even my mum marrying my white British father was a massive deal in the seventies.

So, the painting evolved into one about my background. It is a very traditional portrait with little symbols. The colours are of the Iranian flag, my cat is Persian, and I included the cigarette to symbolise my grandfather and the bracelets my grandmother wore every day. It is very different from my other work … it’s even making me feel emotional now.

I’d have never picked up on the colours … thank you for those insights; and enough about you – let’s talk about me. You say that inaction is a weapon of mass destruction, and I feel that I, as a viewer of your work, should be (and could be) doing something right now. What do you want me to do? I know you don’t want me to dissect your work using ‘artspeak’, and I’m pretty sure you don’t any more bricks flying through the window.

I’m not saying we have to all be out there with banners and protest; but I think in small ways, we can be ‘active’, like calling someone out on something. It may seem like a small thing, but I think small acts can create a cultural shift in some way. Even using social media to spread news and promote causes – things like that! I know we can’t all dedicate our time to activism, but it’s really easy now to do small things, which can really help.

Small things, like running out onto the street chanting, ‘The Queen is dead, boys’ and ‘Sarah for Prime Minister’, right? 

Yes! Especially the latter. Let’s make some noise!

I’ve marked that on my to-do list. Now, you’ve said a number of times that if you could have done things differently, you might not have done certain things. Do you still have any regrets?

I’ve thought about this a lot, but no – I don’t have any regrets. When I made controversial work, I wasn’t doing it just for the sake of doing it; I wanted to say something, and was reacting to my own personal life experiences. I 100% stand by my work, and now that I’m older feel even more strongly about it. My only regrets [have to do with] work still lurking on Google Images that I think aren’t as good, and that I wish could vanish! But no, I don’t regret anything, because I’ve made my art with integrity and not with any malice. Sometimes difficult things have to be said. The only problem with having difficult backlash like I have is that you are sort of never the same. I had this great naivety before and a sense of freedom, which are great for an artist. Now I know people are watching, a fact that did ‘quiet’ me for a bit … but I’m back again now and ready to make more bold work.

 Last question … Can I have that Smiths t-shirt of yours?

No. No way. You’ve gone too far now …