Katie Lynch in Conversation with Artist, Charlie Calder-Potts
Charlie Calder-Potts, in her studio.
Charlie Calder-Potts’ artistic practice is inspired by her love for the Middle East. Calder-Potts’ fascination with the region stemmed from adolescent and university years spent visiting her sister in Lebanon; trips which also took her to Syria and Jordan and led to an obsession with the region. Eventually, Calder-Potts’ fascination with the Middle East took her to Afghanistan, where she travelled with the British Army in 2013 as Britain’s youngest ever female war artist. Calder-Potts’ more recent projects have taken her to Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Iraq, Iran and Russia.
Sotheby’s Institute alumna and founder of Studio Art, Katie Lynch, interviews Charlie Calder-Potts about her artistic influences- from her studies in Art History to her travels in the Middle East.
Make way for her, Russia, mixed media on wood panel, 23 x 30 cm. (2018/19).
Katie Lynch: You have a Masters degree in Art History, but no formal artistic training. How has your academic background shaped your art?
Charlie Calder-Potts: I guess it was almost inevitable that the two loves of my late teens and early twenties, travels in the Middle East and my Masters degree in Art History, directed both my subject choice and my process… especially at the beginning. My work looks at history and its repetitive nature; the value of our heritage and our similarities to previous generations and to each other. The photographic element of my work provides a documentary quality that is in many ways a form of reportage; recording an anonymous individual going about their everyday life, whether that be commuting through Hackney on the overground or in the streets of Erbil, Iraq. The mixed-media imagery brings historical, religious and cultural references to my subject illustrating their place as the timeless ‘everyman.’ It is a way of observing; revealing forgotten elements of the past and presenting them alongside an often unseen or overlooked present. I would imagine that once you know of my background in art history, you cannot miss it. I approach each series like a massive dissertation; collating all the material I can, both first and second hand, before trying to somehow bring it all together in a pictorial essay. By the end of it, I hope to present my understanding of the truth and share my questions, observations, and newfound knowledge with my audience.
I will not return to this last street, Iran, mixed media on vellum, 42 x 40cm. (2017/18).
Farsi Poetry reads: ‘I will not return to this last street
I left behind a shoe, one of a pair, for you to put on and follow after me’
KL: Your work takes its audience to Iran, Iraq, Syria and Afghanistan, among others. What attracts you to these kinds of places?
CCP: My older sister moved to Lebanon when I was 14 and, after visiting her as a teenager during my school holidays, I felt compelled to see and learn more of the region. By the time I left university at 24, I had nearly 10 years of repeated trips under my belt, exploring as much of Lebanon, Jordan and Syria a part-time waitressing salary would allow. The Middle East had become an obsession. It is a region bursting with a fascinating history, incredible arts, friendly, welcoming people and the best food - it wasn’t hard to fall in love with it! Sleeping on the rooftop of a fourth-century building in Damascus, under shooting stars, and flapping laundry was something special, the 4am call to prayer served only to make it even more magical. I have so many memories of similar ‘Arabian nights,’ I can see how easily a romanticised version of this region can emerge.
However, my experiences in Afghanistan and the refugee camps of Northern Iraq are a stark reminder that it is impossible to idealise a place once faced with this other reality. What became evident to me was the fact that The Middle East is often illustrated to the Western world as two extremes; on the one hand, an idealised vision of an exotic faraway land, on the other a place constantly in the midst of conflict, surrounded by war. What also exists, however, is the everyday middle ground. It has been my observations of the ‘everyday’ and the ‘everyman’ that have played the most constant and prominent theme in my work. To see a place for myself and form an understanding based on my own observations and experiences is invaluable. It is this that will always keep me travelling. Every country I have visited so far has surprised me (more often than not in incredibly positive ways). I am hungry to learn, and the only way I can seem to do that properly is by getting as close to the source as possible.
Do not think of us II, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan , mixed media on aluminum, 60 x 50cm. (2015/16).
KL: You were the youngest ever female Official War Artist to be commissioned by the British Army. How did you find your way on to that project, and what did you learn from the experience?
CCP: After falling in love with books such as Road to Oxiana by Robert Byron, Afghanistan quickly became a place I wanted to see for myself. However, for obvious reasons, it’s not so easy for a British artist to get to Afghanistan…and it was especially challenging in 2012/13. After a bit of googling, I discovered that the British Army still sponsored five war artists each year. It was the answer I had been looking for, the road to Afghanistan, and I was determined to be one of the chosen five.
I will shamelessly open about my reasons for applying for an army commission- because I wanted to go to Afghanistan and not because I was at all interested in the army. At that point in time the army was a means to an end. I wanted to see Afghanistan, and they would take me.
But the day I stepped into Brize Norton, I realised that my initial dismissive attitude toward army life was total madness. I was in a whole new world. Because of my preconceived interest in the region I had presumed my inspiration lay ‘outside the wire’: the local Afghans; their daily life; the ancient landscape; the history; our relationship with this part of the world.
What I was not prepared for was to be totally immersed in army life, it was something I had no idea about and something very few civilians get to see. It was totally fascinating and a privilege to witness. For me, it served as a reminder that you can never guess what will inspire you - even when you think you have a pretty good idea. I had high expectations for this project, but every one of them was surpassed.
One of the first things that struck me was the kit, the body armour, the helmet, the glasses. It was all so heavy! I could barely pick it up. You can’t move, you can’t see, you feel totally restricted and encumbered in every way…incase you had any doubt as to the potential danger you were entering, this was made obvious by the fact that you were to carry a tourniquet and two shots of morphine at all times. How, in the boiling heat, carrying all this equipment, do these people do anything?
The body amour led me to explore this idea of protection and security. Technically the equipment renders you less vulnerable and yet wearing it, you are also almost immobile.
Sit in Silence and Go Into Darkness, Afghanistan, mixed media on aluminium, 150 x 130 cm. (2013/14).
KL: How does the weight of the body armour extend and reflect in our daily lives beyond Afghanistan’s Helmand province?
CCP: We find security in the things we surround ourselves with; mortgages, employment contracts, even marriages. In a conflict zone, soldiers are literally weighed down by the equipment they must protect themselves with - and yet, I’m sure, are hugely comforted by its presence.
The second thing that struck me was Camp Bastion; the base played the dual role of a prison and a haven.
In London, I was told by the Ministry of Defence that I would not allowed to venture outside the confines of this base camp. I was so disappointed, I felt as though I would be so restricted, and that I wouldn’t really get to see or experience anything. However, when I arrived in Afghanistan, I was told that I would be going everywhere: helicopter transfers between bases in Helmand province; six hour journeys with the troops in armoured vehicle convoys; a 4x4 drive through the middle of Kabul to the mountains on the other side of the city. I was elated and also suddenly scared - the reality of where I was sunk in.
This experience was totally overwhelming in every way. The ideas that came from it, and the things I learnt from it, still continue to inspire my work even now- seven years on. I grew as an artist and learned more about people in an environment that felt in many ways unique, but also timeless. It was hands down one of the most informing experiences of my life.
We passed the time, Russia, mixed media on wood panel, 17 x 21cm. (2018/19).
KL: The impact of Covid-19 means that our ability to travel has been considerably hindered. Given the extent to which your work relies on being able to conduct research abroad, how have you adapted to the conditions of lockdown?
CCP: It will be no surprise to you that Covid-19 has interrupted intended future work. In October, I was due to leave for Pakistan (Sindh region) and India (Rajasthan) for a project that I was hoping would be sponsored by The Queen Elizabeth Scholarship Trust. I was to study traditional Indian Miniature Painting with Jairaj Soni (Hare Krishna Art Gallery) in Udaipur, and was then to travel through the Sindh region in Pakistan, and look at how the partition had changed the region’s arts and culture. I have already undertaken many months of preparation for the series, reading and researching everything I can, so I am very much ready to go when I get the green light. I am hoping to still gain sponsorship for this project and travel when it is safe to do so. I have had bumps in the road before - my project in Iran sponsored by the British Arts Council took over a year to happen due to visa issues for British citizens travelling to Iran - but I have always managed to persevere and see a way through, so I am feeling positive it will happen eventually!
The silver lining to the delay of my Pakistan/India project is that I can get going on a different project that I have had in the back of my mind for a while. For many years, I have been obsessed with the Guthlac Roll (1175-1215) – a roll of vellum (calf-skin) with 18 circular roundels depicting the life of Guthlac, a 7th century Mercian soldier turned Saint. I have wanted to create a series inspired by this medieval masterpiece and create my own ‘Guthlac Roll’ depicting contemporary culture. Saints, such as Guthlac, enjoyed an almost cult-like following in Medieval Europe. I think that many parallels can be drawn from this ‘medieval world’ and the modern day. This is yet another example of the cyclical nature of history and through it the enduring qualities of human nature; a constant theme that unifies my work.
I have thousands of photographs of church friezes, stained glass, gravestones, tombs, reliefs, manuscripts, et cetera, that I have been documenting over the last eight years during visits to various places around the UK. Religious art has always interested me, and therefore I have in many ways been building towards this project for years. Despite the Reformation, the UK is rich with stunning work, manuscripts in particular that are waiting to be referenced, revised and reinvented. When possible, I would like to visit Saint Guthlac’s shrine at Crowland Abbey. For now, all the research has been done and I am getting preliminary studies underway in the studio. The time to put this work in the spotlight is now as it feels particularly poignant. Guthlac became a hermit and isolated himself in the fens, a marshy unpopulated region in Eastern England. Each roundel ink drawing looks like a little bubble that offers a window into his life; these confined spaces only further highlighting the reality of his isolation, and ours.
Thank you, Charlie.
Imagery courtesy of the artist.
Stay up-to-date with the work of Charlie Calder-Potts by visiting her website and Instagram.
Katie Lynch,
Contributor, MADE IN BED