"Things I make sometimes uncover subconscious feelings and when the viewer recognises something in the work, it suddenly expands to become more than my relationship to art-making."
Tara's Instagram: @tarawhite.co.uk
How and when did you know you wanted to be an artist?
I don’t recall there being one moment when I decided to pursue art. I’ve always always been drawn to art as something that can be done privately or with and for others. I use art as an intuitive language, offering scope to express our nervous systems and the intensity with which we experience the world. Things I make sometimes uncover subconscious feelings and when the viewer recognises something in the work, it suddenly expands to become more than my relationship to art-making. Art can be a space to reflect/disrupt precarious social conditions and examine constructions of ‘the self’.
What was your experience of art school?
I graduated from BA Fine Art at Goldsmiths in 2019. I was able to interrogate new methods of making and manufacturing, working a lot with casting and textiles. During my second year, Goldsmiths Anti-Racist Action occupied the town hall, and in the same year I joined A Particular Reality, a collective of art department students, staff and alumni with a commitment to building creative learning environments upon the values of equity and care. It was critical time spent sharing space, conversation and food with people, discussing our interests, frustrations and what moved us. A Particular Reality is a vital and dynamic group that continues to operate, fuelled by graft, love and care for equitable and welcoming education.
Can you tell us more about the ideas and inspiration behind your work?
Baba and Me hones in on a small moment within a personal family photograph of my grandfather holding my hand. The upscaled image grants anonymity, whilst revealing rich colours forming a painterly surface that is almost velvet-like. The soft-focused warm tones bleed into one another, likening it to a hazy memory. I was drawn to make the work shortly after my grandfather’s passing, when I began to think of the politics of memory and methods of immortalising them. The work tenderly maps the entangled dynamics between grief, intergenerational relationships and home. Operating in the overlaps between these frames of experience, this work serves as a micro-memorial, welcoming all those who've experienced loss to reflect on what it means to feel at home, beyond space and time. It’s one of the first works I ever decided to frame, referencing a protective case or 'emergency break glass' unit.
Are there other artists or movements that have inspired your work?
I am particularly interested in sculptural work that demonstrates technical skill as well as conceptual complexity. For example, I find the work of Alexandra Carr, a fellow member of the Royal Society of Sculptors, intriguing for its exploration of geometry, movement, and engineering. Part of my practice involves exploring participation with the viewers through the creation of interactive work, such as immersive installations and gameplay. This has led to my interest in multifaceted artistic approaches that experiment with different methods of audience interaction and participation. Such examples are the multi-sensory installations of Olafur Eliasson and the ‘Cloud Cities’, an ongoing project by artist Thomas Saraceno.
Can you describe a typical day in the studio? How do you approach your work?
My days in the studio involve a mix of preparatory and sculptural work. The method I follow in articulating initial ideas for possible sculptures, begins with conceptual sketches visualising my research in an abstract and exploratory way, without worrying about form or outcome. The next stages of my artistic process are characterized by meticulous planning, involving continuous tests, trials, and errors to achieve precision and accuracy in my final works. I enjoy working in between these two ways of practice, one being experimental and the other organised, and I consider them equally important to my work.