OUTSIDE THE
BOX
An interview with Sonja Benskin Mesher by Craig Kerrecoe...
Craig Kerrecoe travels
to a medieval longhouse in Llanelltyd, in the Snowdonia
region of North Wales, to visit the studio of new Ovenden
Contemporary member, the Artist Sonja Benskin
Mesher.
I wonder if the
prospect of being interviewed by me must have been mildly
troubling for Sonja Benskin Mesher- when I arrive at her
studio in Llanelltyd, she confesses to me that she feels an
urge to crawl inside a box. I don't think I have that
affect on most people, normally? I hope not.
I should probably smile politely and make a start on the
interview but, intrigued, I ask her why she feels this
urge.
"I used to sit in one when I was a child. I liked the
feel of it. I felt safe. Now it's just a thing in my head,
an imaginary box I suppose. I like boxes. I like putting
things in boxes."
"The box in your head- is it a special kind of box?"
"Oh, no- just a brown cardboard box."
I'm no Psychologist but I like the symbolism of this idea.
I wonder if Sonja is hiding in these boxes of hers.
"No, I'm not hiding. It's more to do with having 'quiet
time' before I work. In my box I am with my thoughts, my
concerns, memories and music."
"Is art a box that you climb into?"
"Well, yes, I guess it is. I never thought of it like
that"
"Are you compartmentalizing?"
"Yes, I suppose so. If I am going to paint or draw, I
have to get away from all the other business."
"What 'business'? Do you mean life in general? Is that why
your paintings are abstract?"
"My paintings are about life really. Each one has a
story to tell. Not all my work is abstract."
I've never been to North Wales before. My maternal
Grandfather, Evan, was born and raised in Barry in South
Wales and my mother was born nearby before the family moved
to Kent when she was a child. We returned a couple of times
when I was a child so I feel that I know South Wales quite
well, but this was my first time in the north. I can say
that it's utterly beautiful and impressively brutal.
As you'd expect, there are examples of Sonja's paintings all around the room with work-in-progress and empty canvases stacked at one end. It's everything you'd expect of an Artist's Studio and it seems like a space that Sonja enjoys spending time in. I continue our discussion...
"No, that's true- not all your work is abstract. Your sketches are quite different aren't they. So you're not trying to escape from life in general- you're telling your story?"
"Well, I guess so... and other peoples stories too. I had an exhibition in Swansea some time back. It was called 'Other People's Lives'. Those sketches are about being a child. Kids stand on things, boxes and chairs and things. It makes them bigger."
"Ah, I see. What did the title 'Other People's Lives' mean?"
"Life is like watching sets of films, some of which I get featured in, some I don't."
I find that quite an intriguing
comment. So Sonja is one of life's observers, rather than a
participant. I ask if she is able to detach herself from
these films, even though she sometimes features in them.
"I can now, yes, but it's odd. I guess its something we
learn to do- to be able to cope, to manage."
"Does the detachment help with the work?"
"No, not at all really. The work can be very
emotional."
"You used the word cope. We all have coping mechanisms. To
be able to step back from everything and see it all play
out in front of us sounds like a pretty useful ability."
"When we're children, do we stand on things in order to cope with being small?"
"Yes. I think you are right."
She turns back to me, nodding- her interest returned.
"I liked being small, but you can see more higher up." She adds.
"Is that all it was about? Perspective? Nothing to do with recognition?"
"I guess so. I still stand on things so I can see more."
I wonder if there is some specific childhood memory of standing on something to gain height.
"A major experience for me was when my teacher stood me on a chair, dressed in my mothers satin nightie which I thought was an angel's outfit and I sang 'Adeste Fideles' to my class. I was about seven years old and standing on the chair gave me confidence!
On reflection, I think I would have been mortified at the prospect of such an experience but Sonja was empowered by it. Standing on a chair imbued the seven year old Sonja to feel confidence. So, we've established that art is a box. Is it also a chair?
Sonja pauses again. "I don't know. Maybe. I suppose it is a platform for me to be able to say things without having to be there and to say them to people I do not know."
"Art is a form of communication after all..."
"Yes. I am satisfied when someone 'gets' what is said."
"What are you trying to communicate?"
"That's a very difficult question to answer." She pauses. "I paint and draw because I feel that I am unable to communicate my point using words."
"You don't like talking about the work?"
"No. I like doing the work, getting it out there, but I dislike being out there myself. Private Views are hard work for me. I do them because it's part of the job but I get no joy from it."
Sonja interrupts herself to
tell me about an Artist friend of hers who had a Private
View where a celebrity stood on a chair, in order to launch
the exhibition. She is animated as though she enjoys
telling me the story. I sense a certain envy...
"Oh, I would so love someone to do that for me. I
should know I had 'made' it then!!"
I smile in approval of her story. Her admission that she
would like a celebrity to stand on a chair and open an
exhibition for her is somewhat surprising to me. Is it
really important for Sonja to feel as though she has made
it? Is recognition that important to her?
"Yes it would be good for my own self esteem. But it
doesn't bother me if folk don't like what I do."
So, what is success?
"Being happy."
"Is that enough?"
"Contentment is good. And good health of course."
"I think you may be a Psychiatrist!", she replies,
somewhat sternly.
Not me...
Sonja offers me coffee which I gladly accept. She returns
quickly with two piping hot mugs of black coffee, just the
way I like it. I'm not an experienced interviewer so I
decide not to press the subject of success and happiness
any further for fear that I might upset the proceedings. I
change direction accordingly...
"Do you plan your paintings in
advance?"
"Plan in advance? No. I have an idea or a concern in
mind but it all evolves. Me and the paint, the paint and
I."
"How does the process work then?"
"The work process starts with research, observation,
thought and memory. I do quite a lot of research and
sketching and studies, and so it begins."
"What does your research entail?"
"Well, just about everything- travelling, looking,
reading, photographing, collecting, talking, sketching,
making, thinking, dreaming, remembering, living,
experiencing and all. The research work varies along with
the subjects."
"And where do you go from there?"
"The images start in my sketch book along with notes,
cuttings and jottings. I then move onto working on paper,
then onto canvas or other larger support. The work goes
where it leads me, a kind of conversation between me and
the work, but drawing on what is in mind."
"A kind of diary?"
" Well, no. Its not all you see on the surface- it goes
deeper than that. The work goes back many years, what I
have seen, experienced, touched and collected throughout
the years."
"Memoires?"
"Yes. With the painting and drawing I am remembering
and trying to make sense of it all. In quieter moments, the
illustration work occurs, reflecting on life, remembering
childhood and unravelling problems. These two aspects of my
work, whilst different in imagery, are sourced from the
same inspiration of life & landscape."
"The illustrations are much more about you- your memories,
and much less about the world around you. There must be a
certain sense of vulnerability for you regarding this
work."
"Yes, you are right. I don't exhibit them that much;
mostly in London."
"Why is that?"
"I had a solo exhibition at Museum Of Modern Art in
Wales of the Toy Drawings. It was well received but it also
freaked some people. I faced a lot of questions regarding
the content."
"Do you understand other people's reactions to your work?
Do you even need to understand their reactions?"
"No I don't get it. When the work leaves me it's on a
new journey. It's having a new conversation with the
audience."
" Well, I am glad when they get the point and my effort was not wasted. But then I am just happy when I am doing it, making something, caring about it and letting it go."
"Is it easy to let them go? Some artists find that bit difficult."
"The idea is always for them to move on so I can continue working. There was one painting I was sad to see go, and that was a self portrait."
"Do you work on paintings that you have no intention of selling, that are just for you?"
"Funnily enough, yes, recently I have done work that has very personal meanings. They're not for selling so I have prints made and I sell those instead."
I get the impression that Sonja would like to get on with some work so I draw the interview to a close. I ask a suitably obvious closing question.
"What are your plans for the
future Sonja? Your expectations?
She knows the answer to this one very well and doesn't
hesitate to give it to me.
"I don't have expectations. I don't like to be
disappointed! Plans of mice and men just get scuppered."
Sonja raises her eyebrows and pauses for a
moment.
"I have dreams- we all have dreams. But I try to take
one day at a time. I shall just keep on with the work
because that's what I do. And we'll see what comes of it
all.
"What about that box of yours?
"Ah, the box! Sometimes I wish I was not in a box. But
it works for me most of the time."
April/May 2009