Unrequired Reading


thea voyles

Thea Voyles is the author of the column Unrequired Reading where she pesters intelligent people to answer her questions about art, life and the correct way to say darling at private views. Born in New York and raised in Paris and Berlin, she is finally learning to drink English Breakfast tea but will never accept chips as a substitute for fries. When she's not writing for the Courtauldian, she organises and curates pop-up exhibitions of emerging art in London and abroad as one half of NOWCURATION. @theajessamynv @nowcuration


Nikita Pozdnyakov

5th February 2020

"Omsk is a dark place"


This interview was conducted in collaboration with Ryba Art. Nikita's work will be shown at the Fitzrovia Gallery  from the 5th to the 25th of February.

THEA: Can you tell me a little bit about Omsk?

NIKITA: Omsk is a dark place, but people are trying to resist. We have always been a rebellious city. My art reflects things everyone sees outside on their way to work, every day. If I feel empty and uninspired, I just get out on the street, walk around a little and come back with new material.

THEA: Why did you start painting prisons?

NIKITA: Initially, I started drawing them it because my friend got imprisoned. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, in the yard by his house with a big group of people. Policemen arrested him without explanation. He found out that it was for standing next to a girl who was under 18. He went there as a young man—when he is free, he will be forty. I include him in my artworks often. All of us could be in his shoes. This story caused a lot of ‘noise’ from the local activists, but of course, it didn't change anything. Omsk is surrounded by prisons—lots of people in this town have been imprisoned. We know all about ‘life behind bars’, but what can we change?

THEA: What was Omsk like when you were growing up? How has it changed?

NIKITA: During the early nineties, no -one had any money. I used to hang out with my father and his friends in the storage room behind his art classroom. They used to drink there but never had enough money for vodka. Once, they found a kiosk nearby without a signboard and made one for it them out of the materials they could find in the storeroom: linoleum, carton, fluorescent lighting. They made letters that said something like ‘newspaper and tobacco’ and brought it to the owner. He gave them just enough money to get drunk that day. Transitional period or not, we never really got to feel the freedom.


At the end of the 90s and the early 2000s, I used my studio as an exhibition space. There weren’t any rules back then. It was a great time in some ways.


But sometimes you look around and once again its the USSR. It is fascinating how some things haven’t changed at all. The Khrushchevka (1) of my childhood are still there. I paint them in Tea Leftovers. The area was so empty, so irrelevant. Good material for painting though.


THEA: How do you look back on the Soviet period in your work?

NIKITA: In my work Along the Burning Road, I thought I depicted Chapaev, but maybe it is not him. I named the silhouette Chapaev because it is similar to his postures, but it could be any public figure from the communist party of the time. All of them were seen as heroes, but they killed so many people. We were always choosing these rulers who were killing the nation.

THEA: How do you connect your work to the history of Russian painting?

NIKITA: Look at the icons by Andrey Rublev. His artworks are filled with spiritual beauty. Now all the beauty of Russian Orthodox Christianity comes in cheap angel sculptures. That is the pressure of contemporary Russian reality. I would call Mikhail Larionov the main influence on my work—I admire his primitivist style.

THEA: What is your most precious possession?

NIKITA: This pipe probably. Initially, it belonged to my dad.

(1) Nickname for the low-cost concrete or brick apartment blocks that were built as part of a mass construction project under Nikita Khrushchev

Nikita Pozdnyakov, The Moonlight, Part of Good Weather for Bricklaying NowCuration Exhibition from February 5, 2020 - February 25, 2020 (Image: Nikita Pozdnyakov)


Elisa De Wyngaert

23rd January 2020

"People make chapters in their lives and then organize it as a narrative"


Elisa De Wyngaert is a fashion curator at MoMu, the fashion museum of Antwerp, and a graduate of the Courtauld MA Documenting Fashion. Before curating, she contributed exhibition reviews to the Belgian radio, wrote exhibition and runway reviews, and worked for independent fashion houses in Antwerp. I spoke to her about her path into the industry and the ways she approaches her subject.

THEA: How did you start getting interested in fashion history? 


ELISA: During my bachelor's, I had a course in costume and fashion, looking at fashion as auxiliary science. It involved looking at fashion to study art history and to date paintings.  I really loved it. I decided to do an internship at MoMu in Antwerp and another internship at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London.  I wrote my dissertation in Belgium on Pierre Balmain. After that, I did my second MA at the Courtauld with Rebecca Arnold. It was so exciting because it merged all my interests: art, fashion, documentary film, photography, and cultural history. Fashion also has strong links to psychology and sociology. What Rebecca Arnold does is so remarkable. She’s an excellent academic and she’s also very knowledgeable about popular culture—it’s so necessary in the field to be aware of what’s happening in the world.


THEA: Your MA topic at the Courtauld was Helmut Lang. What drew you to his work? 

ELISA: I thought it was very interesting how the media had created a narrative arc for his career. First, he was a designer and then, all of a sudden, he was an artist. That was the starting point of my research.

A lot of the designers I admire--like Helmut Lang, and Martin Margiela-- are artists who happen to express themselves in different media. Most of them started as creative directors in the fashion industry and today focus on fine art. Art was always their core. People go through different chapters in their lives and then it is organized into a narrative. In my dissertation, I looked at Lang’s work as a minimalist designer and his first installation ‘Make it Hard’...

THEA: Do you see that as part of the conversation about art history versus visual culture? 

ELISA: Fashion and art are part of different industries: different seasons, different rhythms, and different ways of producing work. Sadly, fashion is much worse for the environment. But fashion is also more connected to everyone's daily lives. Every morning, everyone’s thinking about clothes. Fashion is also very commercial, but if you look at the art gallery world, you will notice the system is not completely different either.

THEA: Before you started curating, you worked in fashion and wrote reviews. How did those experiences help you? 

ELISA: I am happy I got the experience because it gave me insight into how a business works. I had no idea when I graduated. My work in the media also came in handy. When you curate an exhibition, you have to do a lot of research and you need to be objective. You also need to be at an academic level for a museum audience. But at the same time, you really have to communicate. You have to speak and engage in a way that makes people also want to discover the story you're telling.

Museums should not be ivory towers. People have to want to go there to spend their free time. They should be inclusive.

THEA: I think we often don’t think about how much of museum work is about communicating. What’s the most important thing for you when you start curating? 

ELISA: I'm lucky because the MoMu is a bit of an outsider in the sense that we are not located in  Paris or New York, not in a fashion capital. We're an underdog, so we can be a bit more disruptive. Contemporary fashion is always linked to contemporary life and I think the most important skill is that you have a lot of conversations with people, including colleagues, friends, and strangers. Curiosity is key.

THEA: How do you choose the subjects for new exhibitions? Are you on the lookout for new designers? 

ELISA: Not only designers, but also things that are changing in the psychology of a society. What is the mood, what is the anxiety, what is happening? And then, what is coming out of the creative fields in fashion, theatre, and art? I think thematic exhibitions allow you to bring these things together.

Wiesi Will, 'Air Dancers, 2018, Part of Soft? Tactile Dialogues MoMu Exhibition from September 28, 2018 - February 24, 2019 (Image: MoMu)

THEA: How was it different to curate Soft? Tactile Dialogues? What was it like to be looking at textile art instead of fashion? 

ELISA: There used to be much prejudice against women working with textiles in the art world.  The medium was seen as something women made at home; it was considered domestic. In the exhibition, I wanted to show how textile arts and textiles engage with politics and society. There are many contemporary artists working in textiles today. I think it's exploding in the art world. It's very interesting to see how in the sixties and seventies, people were writing about it as if it was something solely feminine and separate from the high arts. Today you see textile art at all the art fairs.

THEA: And finally, what’s your Unrequired Reading


ELISA: I’ve really enjoyed reading books focussing on psychoanalysis and psychology during the past year. I also love podcasts while walking to work. I really like Rebecca Solnit’s work on feminism and climate activism.

Louise O'kelly

2nd December 2019

"There was this hangover of thinking that performance art

had to look certain ways"

Images that come to mind when you hear “performance art”: Freddy Prinz Jr. performing “HACKYSACK” in She’s All That, someone in the nude explaining the evils of capitalism, or a number of people inconveniently doing lines of coke in the bathroom before covering themselves in dirt.


Volunteering at the David Roberts Art Foundation Evening of Performance enlightened and expanded my view of this elusive field. Louise O’Kelly curated the evening, putting together a series of performances that ranged from poetry reading and dance to a performer moving crowds with a section of an art fair booth on wheels. O’Kelly is also the founder and curator of Block Universe, London’s only festival dedicated to performance art. I spoke to her to find out more.






Louise O’Kelly

Curator/Founder of Block Universe and the DRAF Evening of Performance

THEA: When did you first become interested in performance art and was there a certain artist or an experience that made you start thinking in those ways?

LOUISE: I had been interested in it in college, but was never taught anything about the subject. A turning point for me was the experience of working at a commercial gallery that represented the estates of a number of performance artists. I was working quite closely with the estates and their families who have a lot of insight into the depth of the artists' practices—it was that experience that made me get more serious about my desire to engage with the medium. So after I left that gallery, I went to do my masters, Contemporary Art Theory, at Goldsmiths and spent my time researching and writing about performative work.

THEA: So in a way, your way into performance art was through documentation and archives…

LOUISE: Yes, it was. Initially, my exposure to performance practices was through documentation, so my grounding wasn't necessarily through live work. Then I started to go see more around London and really immerse myself in what was happening. For a lot of people as well, I think that their understanding of performance came out of that period of time [the 60s and 70s].

THEA: Yeah, for sure. I think before I went to the Evening of Performance, my first thought when I heard “performance art” was just Marina Abramovic in a room with a knife or something.

LOUISE: Yes, someone like Marina Abramovic is a common reference point of someone well known for that sort of work. I realized that it felt like there was this hangover of thinking that performance art had to look certain ways, that it should involve something that makes you feel uncomfortable, look very edgy or really push the body to extreme limits. Obviously, a lot of people do still make that type of work, but I was seeing a new generation of artists who were approaching performance work in a very different way: thinking of it as another outlet to express their ideas. They were not necessarily concerned about whether they were doing paintings, sculptures, video work, or installations, but rather how their work could encompass a lot of these different elements. There's a lot of collaborative work across genres such as with music or videos.

THEA: The Evening of Performance definitely felt super interdisciplinary.

LOUISE: Yes, people are becoming less concerned with boundaries between disciplines and more interested in how they can be playful together. A lot of performers that I see or that I'm showing are also visual artists, dancers, or choreographers working in more conceptual ways. So there's a real crossover between dance and visual art at the moment.

THEA: How do you create a distinction between entertainment and performance work? Or, how do you define performance as ‘entertaining’ or not?

LOUISE: I think it is really important to make a distinction. You do an event like DRAF, which is at the nightclub Ministry of Sound and there is a lot of... well, I'm reluctant to use the word spectacle, because I know people talk about that in a negative way, but people are coming to see something. I think that the context of a nightclub is very different from the context of a gallery space, and people behave very differently in that environment. I think there is a real difference between people who have come to see a performance and people who have come to do something else and there happens to be a performance there, which they see as entertainment. I've been to different types of events showing performance work and some are held in spaces where people are having fun and they want to socialise. Take a launch party, for example, where the organisers have invited an artist to do something performative. It's incredibly difficult because the artist is not the focus of attention or the reason people are in attendance. Experiences like these can be incredibly painful for the artist because they don't have a captive audience and are there as the "entertainment" of the evening, even though it might be quite serious work that is being shown in the wrong context. 

THEA: Was that a lot of your thinking behind the creation of Block Universe?

LOUISE: Well, I had the idea for Block Universe just after I had finished my masters. I was thinking a lot about performance and how to engage with it more. I was thinking about hosting a symposium that would present some performance. I was essentially looking for somewhere to gain more experience, but at the time, there wasn't really anywhere in the city that was consistently programming performance. Tate has a long track record of doing it with Catherine Wood, but as part of a much larger programme. Otherwise, performance work was being presented in the city quite sporadically. At many galleries, it was often presented as entertainment for an opening or as part of the public programme for the weekend. It really felt like an 'add on’ element that was never given appropriate space in its own right. So when looking to gain more experience, I realised that my options were quite limited and that it made more sense to do my own thing. This was one of the reasons for creating Block Universe. The other was that artists whom I had talked to and who worked with performance were also frustrated by being 'add on’ pieces or entertainers. Galleries and institutions, though very well-meaning, weren't well versed in how to work with live performance at the time. Having a green room, rehearsal time, or doing a soundcheck were unusual requests for institutions, and there was often a lack of understanding about the need to pay artists appropriately for their time in producing a work. I thought that even if I did a festival for one week during the year, that week could be about giving importance to this type of work. It was important for me that we pay artists appropriate fees, or create some sort of structure to support them in creating new work with more resources than they might normally have to work with. So, that was the idea and it's grown a lot over the past 5 editions.

THEA: You mentioned that the need to have a green room, rehearsal time, or a soundcheck isn’t often considered. How do you balance wanting to be in different spaces -- and the freedom that you get to be in different spaces with the structure of Block Universe -- and these very practical necessities?

LOUISE: It is interesting. With Block Universe, we can work across a whole host of different spaces. On the project I did with DRAF, we were able to work in places like Ministry of Sound - a nightclub with offices behind it. Every work is different and when we're planning Block Universe, it's a bit of a jigsaw puzzle. Some works will have very specific needs: you know that you're definitely going to need a lighting rig and a sound system so it's just much easier to find a venue that has those things instead of trying to build them somewhere that isn't very conducive to that. So, it depends in many ways on the needs of the work and what the artist wants the audience experience to be.

THEA: Block Universe is taking place over multiple days, how do you balance the relationships between the different works, especially if you're going to have different audiences for each piece?

LOUISE: We've tried different formats and it’s evolved over the years. The first year we did it over the course of a week and we had ten different performances - some of which happened more than once - alongside talks. That was a really action-packed schedule, so then we evolved to ten days to give us a little more space. This year was the first time that we tried two weeks to allow more breathing room between events and we realised that it meant our audiences would be able to come to see more. In very practical ways, we also do try to consider my team's time and energy, how we manage rehearsals, and set up or take down different performances before moving on to the next ones. For the audience, we tend to program events in the evening or during the weekends since a lot of people work during the day. The temporality is a very fluid and flexible thing, but I think we try to think about what's reasonable and what makes sense.

THEA: We often hear about what the curator's vision is, but there are also so many practical concerns.

LOUISE: Yes, I’m afraid there are! In an ideal world, I would have more control over the order in which audiences see each work, in order to chart the evolution of a concept. But in reality, because you're working with so many different partners and so many different people's schedules, you're just trying to make things work in a way in which you're not programming two things at the same time so people can actually go see everything.

THEA: Yeah, there's so much debate right now about what the “curator” does. Do they create a narrative? Is it an artistic role or is it a framework for a piece? Do you see your role as creating a space for these different artists to be in?

LOUISE: I really see myself as a facilitator for artists because what's important for me is ensuring that they have sufficient resources. I see my goal in the process of Block Universe as supporting artists and giving them a platform and visibility. So, the important thing for me is that we are giving them opportunities to create or present work and that they're reaching new audiences. I want to help re-educate people on what contemporary performance looks like.

THEA: I was also curious about how you might deal with the risk of the audience. I remember in Jimmy’s (Jimmy Roberts) piece, the audience responded in a way he didn’t expect. Especially when the work is participatory, so much depends on the audience…

LOUISE: That's something you really can never anticipate. I’ve worked with artists who designed the whole set and imagined they’d be moving through the crowd and having quite close interactions with them. But then, the crowd would sit or stand all around the edge, which would lead to a very different performance than originally intended. In Jimmy's case, he always had this vision of making his way through the crowd with this large object while slowly revealing the image inside. None of us anticipated how everyone might react to that. He was dressed to look like an art handler and I think a lot of people initially didn’t realise that he was the artist performing -- presuming that he was just someone really inconveniently trying to navigate a large prop across the room. It was interesting though because half of the audience was up on the balcony overlooking the work. Their perception of it was very different compared to the people on the ground as the people on the balcony were viewing it as an image while the people on the ground were in the work. It worked brilliantly visually but the experience of Jimmy realizing the work and actually negotiating the audience, and the audience also not fully understanding what was happening, was a very different experience compared to those who viewed it more as a spectacle. Essentially, you can do as much planning as you want, but you can’t really anticipate what people will do in a crowd.

THEA: Yeah, for sure. I also spoke to one of the girls from FlucT, right after Jimmy's performance, about how confrontational the audience had been and she suggested that maybe some of that came from their performance being so confrontational with the audience. She also said that perhaps it brought out this more aggressive side in the viewer. I thought it was interesting to see how, especially in this kind of condensed form of Block Universe, you get this interaction between the works.

LOUISE: Yes, it’s true. FlucT are very accustomed to operating in that environment and making their way through a crowd. Doing something, even if it is an evening of performances in a nightclub, is a little bit different than something happening in the rarified space of a gallery.

THEA: That also speaks to what you were saying about the diversity of performance art, that they’re all used to working in different contexts.

LOUISE: It's hard to say because performance takes so many different forms, but you know, even by the way that we were using Ministry of Sound, each performance was a little bit different in terms of how they occupied the space.

THEA: So finally, what’s your Unrequired Reading?

LOUISE: When I was studying, I really enjoyed reading Andre Lepecki who writes a lot about contemporary dance within the visual arts. A book that I really, really love, which I think was quite instrumental for me in the first edition of Block Universe is called The Archive and the Repertoire by Diana Taylor. She’s a Latin American scholar looking at ways of keeping cultural information alive or passing on cultural information over generations. She’s looking at how, at the point of colonization in Latin America, the written word was used by the Spanish to modify behaviours, in comparison to illiterate or non-literate societies, where cultural information can be passed on directly between bodies.

The title of Block Universe refers to an alternate theory of time, where the past, present, and future exist simultaneously. Looking at this idea of the body as archive or embodied memories and how that relates to performance was really interesting to me. It relates to what we discussed earlier about documentation; how you learn about performance and relate to performance work from the past. I was thinking about these ideas specifically in regards to this festival that is just starting out and seems to have the intention to continue-- how do you think about a legacy and how do you relate to performance over time?

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The Courtauld Institute of Art

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