New Additions: Jadé Fadojutimi

Habiba Hopson

Can you walk me through making and naming There Exists a Glorious World. Its Name? The Land of Sustainable Burdens? 

Jadé Fadojutimi

My studio is important for my practice because it's where I keep the things I find special in one space. It's like a collective space or quarter space. I call it “setting the stage for painting.” It’s not the paintings that are important, it's the space itself, the way it's arranged, the things I can see in relationship to the work. I find it interesting when moments of my studio bleed into a painting. By that I mean, between the painting and me, there are objects or plants I can see that involve themselves within my field of vision. Sometimes they invite themselves into the paintings.  

In this particular work, I bought some flowers. I was obsessed with a certain palette or the color of this arrangement. I'd arranged the flowers myself. [The flowers] were on the table in front of me. I remember sitting in front and thinking, "Oh, you know what? The position of that in front of this canvas, I'm going to do exactly that." And sometimes it can be simple choices like that. The work isn't just about bringing in objects or moments of memory, or things I collected in the past. It's also about having conversations with the things I notice, why they're important to me, why that becomes a decision, and what that can create within a space on the canvas. 

HH

There's such a suggestion of blossoming flora and garlands [in There Exists a Glorious Name...]. And animal activity, the transition from day to night as a visual scene. This deep orange with washes of pink and this hint of violet I associate with the sun setting. I also think your paintings beautifully expand on the language of abstraction and figuration. 

JF

I realize I didn't talk about the title. I write alongside my practice. So, while I'm painting, I might throw a brush down to write down a thought. A lot of the language within my titles comes from the things I'm writing. I like to play with language as well in a way that responds to the reality that I'm experiencing. I do like my titles to be open, so I don't want to over-explain it. 

HH

“Sustainable burdens.” That intrigues me. What does it mean to have sustainable burdens? Perhaps it would be a glorious world if we lived in a space that had burdens that were sustainable and not soul-sucking. 

JF

We all have burdens in life. I was questioning how can you sustain something like that. It doesn't mean that a burden is a negative thing. I'm playing with the idea of the things that are inevitable in life, and how we walk through life. I'm going to play with my own title, in a glorious way. There have been many hardships in life, but they haven’t changed how wonderful it is. My titles are a reflection of myself at that moment. And allowing myself to exist without putting too much pressure on the hardships that come with existing. And hopefully, inviting another perspective on things that are very natural and everyday, and don't have to be seen as something that holds us back. 

HH

Something I also think about often, is that things are neither good nor bad, they just are. 

JF

It’s like negative and positive are on two ends of the spectrum, and everything can exist within that spectrum. That leads me to your talking about abstraction and figuration, and how that operates for me. I've never wanted to put any of my works in either pool. That's why I like to dance between abstraction in a way that invites elements of figuration where things feel recognizable, but they're not always obvious or evident.  

HH

I feel like this play between abstraction, figuration, and the way in which you bring objects or certain motifs that seem very much a part of our lived reality invite more of the viewer to come in. There's so much expression in your paintings that I find really thought-provoking. It pushes me to think about the vastness of one's mind, of one's surroundings, of one's emotions. Might you be able to share your thoughts on these ideas of reflection, self-knowledge, seeking, questioning, expansion, human experience as it relates to your practice? 

JF

I see [my paintings] as windows to the self. A moment to connect with an experience. As people, as humans, we are fluctuating colors. We don't ever remain the same from one second to the next. I've always felt displacement in this world, whether within the context of living in the UK, or moving around with people who come from different backgrounds and experiences, and having a connection with them and talking about our differences; or whether it's about the hardships of going through life, and feeling like you don't resonate with people, and you feel this loneliness. I was wondering to myself, especially as a painter, how do I create something wholly representative of who I am?

Not to say I make work that talks about who I am, but I create my own identity within my own work. This is something that happens for all of us, every day, going from A to B, growing, getting older, and finding ourselves in different circles, different spaces, and different experiences, and wondering, “Who am I? Who was I yesterday?” When I'm painting, I'm like, "How do I capture myself for a moment?" The idea behind my work originally was that perhaps if I start to take notice of the things I'm drawn to, or the moment I can't turn my head away from something I've seen, or I take a photograph of something random on the street, or I'm obsessed with this one piece of clothing I've bought, perhaps if I question those moments more, maybe I'll have more connection with a sense of who I am. 

At school, we're taught to question that moment. “Why is it that you love this particular piece?” I remember I've always felt envious of paint. I felt like it held so much character. I'm like, "Why do you have so much character and I don't?" Which is weird because I'm a catalyst for the work. But at the same time, it's interesting being the creator of a painting, but also participating as a viewer at some point, because that happens inevitably. You step back, and you're like, "Huh, I don't recognize this, but I'm familiar with it in some way."  

HH

I resonate so deeply with the questions you posed to yourself. Questions we all pose to ourselves about who we are and belonging. Are we on the right path? I think there's a sense of freeing oneself through the questioning. 

It reminds me of Letters to a Young Poet. Rilke [the author] is in this exchange with a young poet who is very much in a dilemma about if he should be writing. He's sending letters to Rilke, a seasoned poet. Rilke is telling him to continue to ask the questions, and eventually, he’ll live out the answers. Asking these questions eventually ends up with your creating this piece, and that's not living out an answer but living out the next question.  

JF

Yeah. 

HH

You have writing that's on your website. Do you feel like the two go hand-in-hand, painting and writing?  

JF

I love writing. I really enjoy it. I think language, and painting, and sound, and space can all speak to each other through their own mediums in their own way. Writing can be a form of painting too. Painting an image of the mind in its constant state. The first piece of writing I did that made me realize I enjoyed writing is called “The Window.” 

It was about my relationship between painting and using windows as a metaphor, but also talking about the self and what it means to look at a painting in the fragility of your own existence. I love to play with words, and they are quite poetic because I also feel like my works are quite poetic. They resonate with each other quite naturally. Also, I'm soppy. I'm really soppy naturally. 

HH

Let's please be more soppy. 

JF

My vulnerability comes through in my writing. I'm not scared to share those moments with people, because I know they speak with my paintings. Otherwise, I wouldn't stop in the middle of painting to write things down. I want to be as honest as I can about my practice. If I was to hide that from the general experience of the work, then I don't think I'm allowing myself to be vulnerable enough to paint. I think to paint fearlessly, you must be vulnerable. 

HH

I want to ask three questions I'm asking each artist, starting with the first: Walk me through your morning. How do you start your day?  

JF

You should ask, do you wake up in the morning? 

HH

If you wake up in the morning! Hey, do you wake up in the morning? 

JF

I don't. Maybe 10% of the year, I might wake up in the morning. The other 90% is in the afternoon. I start my day with a cup of jasmine silver needle tea and a cigarette, and watching anime, or reading something, Manga, or shopping online, with animals piled on top of me, queuing for their mum to stroke them. That's my afternoon/morning. 

HH

I have the scene. I’m going to change this question: “Walk me through your version of your morning or if you wake up in the morning.” 

JF

Oh, yeah, listening to music. Always looking for more music and new things to invite into my space. 

HH

What’s the big idea you'd execute if you knew you couldn't fail?  

JF

Wait, wait, wait, wait. There's no idea I wouldn't execute just because I thought I was going to fail. I'm just going to execute it, no? 

HH

Yes. Definitely. 

JF

There's nothing I don’t want to do because I'm scared of failing. 

HH

That's good. Yeah. 

JF

I would love to do a live painting session one day. 

HH

This final question is a question from the previous interviewee, Tunji Adeniyi-Jones, who asks you, “What was the last piece you saw in person that really left an impression? What was the last thing you saw that left you feeling like, ‘Damn, that's amazing.’” 

JF

The Monet/Mitchell show [at Fondation Louis-Vuitton], which was overwhelmingly breathtaking. A bit overly stimulating for me in a wonderful way, because it was one work after the other, filled with color, filled with movement, which can make me feel a bit nauseous, but in a great way. It's as if you're on a rollercoaster, and you're like, "I'm having so much fun, but oh." 

HH

If you can share one question that you'd like for me to ask the next artist in the same way Tunji did for you. 

JF

What keeps you up at night? 

HH

Do you want to answer it, or do you want to leave it for the other person to answer? 

JF

Oh, me to answer it too? 

HH

Do you want to? You don't necessarily have to. But yeah, I guess I'm curious.  

JF

Oh, my gosh. What keeps me up at night? Sometimes I can't sleep until 7:00 am, so a lot. I mean, my paintings keep me up at night. The things I haven't done keep me up at night. The excitement for the next day keeps me up at night. I'm like a kid when at Christmas. It's like, "Oh, my God. Santa's coming." "Oh, my God. I'm doing this tomorrow." “I can't sleep now." But usually, it's my work. My paintings keep me up at night. There are thoughts that keep reoccurring, and you can't let go, so I'm curious.  

This interview has been edited and condensed. To hear outtakes from the conversation, and learn more about Jadé Fadojutimi's inspirations, download our free digital guide on the Bloomberg Connects app.