The gown does not make the friar, we know that, even though the way we dress influences the idea we give of ourselves and also translates society’s conception of genders, bodies, and identities. These are the topics addressed in the practice by Anglo-Ghanaian artist Enam Gbewonyo, who uses tights to tell stories of bodies and racism and uses performance as a healing and reconciliatory practice.
For Temporary Atlas Gbewonyo is exhibiting several works that reflect on this theme, in the following interview we spoke with her to explore the influences and ideas behind her art.
You worked as a knitwear designer in New York before moving back to England and shifting to art. In your practice you recount the African diaspora and the personal struggle against the marginalization of black women. In particular, for example in the works exhibited for Temporary Atlas, you investigate the relationship between black women and hosiery. Can you tell me more about the relation between garments and the wearer’s identity? How do they shape or interact with each other?
The works exhibited in Temporary Atlas are part of my ongoing body of work titled Nude Me / Under the Skin. The works explore issues of erasure of identity, race, and sexuality from the perspective of black women through the lens of nude tights. By charting the history of this garment and how it intersects with the black woman disturbing stories are revealed.
In this sense, the relationship between nude tights and the black woman wearer has been detrimental to her psyche and mental health, in that it others and lessens her, for it is not her nude skin colour these tights represent. In works like The Ascension of the Nude the wear and tear on black women’s psyche is depicted in the lace-like structure burnt into the tights. These wounds are then mended by the vein-like chainstitch embroidery adorning them, often in cotton or metallic (known for its healing properties) threads. By bringing what lies beneath the surface of our skin to the forefront – our blood vessels and veins – it not only serves as a reminder that we humans are all same but also as a source of healing (healing always comes from within).
Interestingly part of the reason I make the works with used tights is in the idea that the tights bear the stories of their wearers. The clothes we wear absorb our energy and emotions. For example, the black NHS nurses of the Windrush era experienced avid racism both in their daily life and on the hospital wards all the while trying to administer care and kindness. Imagine the pain and hurt they had to bury deep within themselves. Their uniforms which included “nude’ tights would have absorbed this pain. So for women such as these whose stories often remain unheard these artworks become their voice.
Among the influences on your practice is the Ghanaian tribe you come from, the Ewe, where weaving is an important part of social and cultural life. What other art forms influence you? Who or from where do you draw inspiration? Either be they visual artists, performers, musicians, or designers.
I wouldn’t say weaving is an influence so much as it’s naturally a part of who I am, it’s embedded in my DNA. In terms of the Nude Me series of work I actually draw inspiration from the research points I draw from. Like the aforementioned stories of Black NHS nurses which have been a huge inspiration informing much of the works. The stories of black ballet dancers are another inspiration that is conveyed through the movement and premise of my performance work.
More widely a number of creatives inspire me. The likes of Solange Knowles, Josephine Baker, Fela, Nina Simone, Melina Matsoukas, Alexander McQueen, Iris van Herpen and many more. In terms of artists, the list is endless. It of course starts with Senga Nengudi (who I discovered a year into my Nude Me series and was immediately bowled over by the synchronicity of themes), Faith Ringgold, Sheila Hicks, Yinka Shonibare, Diedrick Brackens and Peju Alatise to name a few.
I think what attracts me to these artists and creatives is their authenticity. It’s what I gravitate to most as I strive for this in my practice and all areas of my life.
You consider art as a tool to cure. Art as a form of healing through ritual and performance, how does this work for you? Do you accomplish it by doing (weaving or performing)?
It is accomplished both ways through my making practice and through the performance. I have experienced a lot of personal healing and growth through the work which inspired my aim to help others achieve healing through their experience of my work. It is my belief that there is a metaphysical power to the making process specifically in the handmade that I channel in my work. With performance, the idea is that the audience is transported to the past where they are in commune with the ancestors, through this experience a spiritual awakening takes place. The audience is thus forever changed and leaves the experience more enlightened.
The notion of healing now underpins the entire process as I try to ensure I make the work mindfully – from burning incense while I work, to doing deep breathing techniques and stretching at the start of my studio day to intention setting before making the work. In 2020 I also started running workshops where healing was placed at the core, they mixed meditation, movement, and making to create a conscious experience.
You are also among the founders of BBFA, the Black British Female Artist Collective, what are your latest projects with this initiative?
Yes, I founded the Collective back in 2015, it was a very different landscape back then and I felt I needed to create a way for Black women artists to be seen. I’m glad to see that black women artists are much more visible though we still have a very long way to go. For us, as a Collective we don’t have any projects in the works for the foreseeable future as we are all busy with our individual careers. However, I’d like to think much of our current success is down to our efforts as a Collective and the opportunities that have come our way as a result.