Anindya Sen in Conversation with India Nielsen
Sotheby’s Institute of Art London alumnus, Anindya Sen, speaks to India Nielsen about her artistic influences, her lockdown experience and her current exhibition.
India Nielsen is an artist who lives and works in London. After completing her BA at the Slade School of Fine Art, she went on to receive a MA in Painting from The Royal College of Art. Nielsen presented her first solo exhibition, ‘Seer Kin Lives’, at Jack Bell Gallery in 2016. In 2019, she took an apprenticeship with Norwegian artist, Ida Ekblad, and was awarded the a-n arts Writing Prize. Nielsen is currently part of the group exhibition, ‘Fight or Flight?’. This exhibit is presented by Roman Road Gallery, in partnership with The Columbia at The Bakery gallery space, in London (on from Sept 20 - Oct 31, 2020). Nielsen has also been shortlisted for the Ashurst Emerging Artist Prize 2020.
Artist Portrait photographed by Tatiana Bolotova.
How did your passion for art develop and what are your earliest artistic memories? How have your Slade and RCA experiences shaped your journey and influenced your growth as an artist?
My first memories of making art are as part of a primary school-wide competition at age four. I was the only one to make a gloopy, semi-geometric abstract painting using mostly greys alongside brighter colours. I won a wooden flower press and was so over the moon that I spent that summer pressing flowers from my garden with my mum.
Slade [School of Fine Art] was a tightly knit family with all the sense of community, support, fun and dysfunction that comes with that; while the RCA (Royal College of Art) was a lot bigger and so I felt more anonymous. That anonymity actually freed me to try whatever I wanted, causing my work to develop drastically in such a short period of time. There were moments I loved and moments I disliked my time in both institutions, but I am so happy to be making work on my own now!
How did the pandemic and the months of lockdown impact your practice? What were the challenges that you faced as an artist? How did you adapt?
At first, [lockdown] was very anxiety inducing. I took many long walks in the forest, listened to music and even cried. I also wrote and spoke to friends. Then my mind began to settle and I felt very focused. I suddenly felt like time had slowed down, and that I was riding on top of it like a wave rather than trying to chase it. I found myself taking time to discover new music, read and write. I set up a studio area at my desk and started making small works. I took part in collaborative mail-art projects with friends (The Correspondence at Residence Gallery and Book-as-Exhibition - a touring exhibition curated by Krishna Balakrishnan), and with strangers as a new way to feel connected. The experience gave me so much energy and so many new ideas for when I was finally able to get back into the studio. I started selling small works and offcuts from my studio practice via the Artist Support Pledge, organised by Matthew Burrows. This was a great support system and again helped connect me to people I might not otherwise have met. I received an Arts Council grant too, which I’m very grateful for as it helped me support my practice over the lockdown period.
'Paul Thek / Scorpio Rising’, 2020, Oil on canvas, 127 x 106 cm / 50 x 42 in.
You seem to draw a lot of inspiration from growing up as part of the millennial generation, frequently glued to our screens and connected by networks and information highways. How has this informed your practice?
Growing up alongside the Internet meant that I always felt the two poles of intimate connection and dissociation with the cultural material I loved. I was obsessed with musical artists like Wu-Tang Clan and Eminem when I was very young; I felt like I identified with their music. But as an 11-year old girl from an Italian, Roman Catholic family living in London, I also felt like I had no real place among any of the things these artists represented or spoke about. During the MTV era of the early 2000s, these artists were caricaturing aspects of themselves to appeal to people exactly like me. It was a loop…the Internet pulls from so many different time periods, cultures and geographic locations; it flattens them together to make them seem ‘local’ across the globe, but this to some extent replaces genuine local communities. I try and take the passive, disconnected language of the Internet and piece it together to create meandering, emotional narratives of the subconscious that are deeply personal. It’s a way of searching for a genuine ‘location’ I can call my own amongst all of this floating, slippery cultural matter.
'Hetifr oow M ars / Snmimfeg ni tears’, 2020, Oil on canvas, 137 x 117 cm / 53.9 x 46 in.
One cannot help but notice the idiosyncratic nomenclature of many of your works. Language, text and characters seem to be deeply embedded in your artistic practice, both in terms of creative inspiration as well as form of expression. Can you share your thoughts on that?
I piece together fragments of words and images as a kind of mark making. Although I love reading and I write alongside making my work, I have always found words a bit of a puzzle. I am very aware of how they can never fully communicate or grasp exactly what it is someone is feeling, or make another person feel that same way. I think there is a sense of yearning that cannot help but flow through my paintings, although it may not be explicit. When I paint, I often feel like I’m looking for something that is just out of frame.
'Melting m oughts oMe ot Tnthli Egins’, 2020, Oil on canvas, 140 x 115 cm / 55 x 45 in.
What do you think of the role and relevance of social media in the practice of an emerging artist such as yourself? Do you see any downsides?
I don’t take social media seriously; I see it as an extension of my work and use it a bit like a diary – to express myself and share things I like or have been looking at. Being on it too often or for too long can suck your mind into a spiral, so I like to take regular breaks from it. You have to make a concerted effort now to be mentally ‘by yourself.’
Tell us about your current group exhibition ‘Fight or Flight?’ How did the exhibition come about and what are you trying to explore through this body of work?
I had a really nice Skype chat with Marisa Bellani, the creative director of Roman Road Gallery, during the early days of lockdown. The engagement grew out of that conversation. I realised that the lockdown facilitated conversation with people that felt more personal and genuine than conversation I might have otherwise had with somebody who was, at that time, just an acquaintance. I wanted to incorporate the calligraphic fur works into the paintings for this exhibition, literally stitching them into the image. I wanted the image and fur text to be experienced alongside each other, rather than have the fur act as a decorative element that has been ‘stuck on.’ I think the works have been successful in this regard.
'Leicester Sq. 31.08.20’, 2020, Oil and shaved fur on linen, 137 x 117 cm / 53.9 x 46 in.
'Futile Devices I’, 2020, Oil and shaved fur on linen, 137 x 117 cm / 53.9 x 46 in.
What is your future plan? As an emerging artist, what are your thoughts on navigating between the seemingly dichotomous objectives of becoming commercially successful and gaining institutional recognition?
I’m just focusing on making the work I want to. My job is to just keep doing the work, developing it and getting better at it. It’s not my job to worry about whether my audience will like it, or if it will be accepted in a commercial or institutionalised setting. If I communicate what I want to effectively, then I’m happy. I have quite a lot of shows coming up, including a couple in Japan and a few in London. I’ll announce them via social media and my website closer to the date. I’m just focusing on taking everything one step at a time.
'Birthday Painting (Pyrex Princess)’, 2020, Oil, shaved fur and aluminium on linen, 120 X 150 cm / 47.2 x 59 in.