Studio Stories
Sandra Scott
Textile Art
Artist Statement
My interest is in representing fragility within the black community, and exploring how this relates to cultural trauma. My current work is built on previous studies of the relationship between memory and domestic objects.
This collection considers the varied, intricate and frequently contradictory experiences of absence and loss: themes that are especially prominent in my piece Black Okukor. Fragility, strength and beauty, as well as the possibility of survival through destruction, are all central concerns. These pieces demand to know, ‘What is missing?’
Through the fusion of free machine stitching on fabric and paper, painting, and quilting, I have been able to create space for interpretation. Meaning emerges organically for each viewer; it is felt – as emotion, as rhythm – rather than extracted.
Black Okukor
My stitched cockerel represents the bronze cockerel Okukor, which was looted from the Kingdom of Benin in 1897 and held, until recently, by Jesus College. The statue conveys great strength and great impact, even when detached from the community and homeland to which it originally belonged.
I came across an article about the sculpture, which would ordinarily have been placed on an ancestral altar commemorating the queen mother of Benin. The rooster symbolises the Eson, the senior wife of the Oba, whose praise name is ‘Eson, Ogoro Madagba, the cock that crows at the head of the harem’: it’s a representation of her power, dominance and strength (Ezra 1992: 85-89). Unusually, the cockerel, as a male, was being used in an ancestral ceremony for women: which testifies to the queen mother’s status as a woman in that society.
I then discovered that the crest of Jesus College had three black cockerels on it; I researched the link between the artefact and the College’s crest, which itself was taken from the personal coat of arms of its founder, Bishop John Alcock, as a play on his surname.
I was drawn to the College’s motto: ‘prosperum iter facias’, ‘May your journey be successful’. The motto is used at the beginning of the students’ journey through university. I thought this appropriate for the cockerel’s own journey as it returned to its rightful place in Nigeria after so many years, at the request of the College’s own students.
Pick
The inspiration behind this quilt starts with the afro comb (or hair pick, as it’s also known): a powerful emblem of resistance. As a child I remember my cousins making afro combs from bits of wood and the spokes of old bicycles. The comb was not just a tool to detangle black hair, but also a fashion accessory: and a symbol of pride. At the same time, it holds stories of the cultural trauma that come with black hair.
The quilted canvas displays two female figures – the smaller one superimposed on top of the other – with no arms or legs; both morph into the shape of afro combs.
The figure with the head covering references the New Orleans Tignon Laws of 1786, which enforced the wearing of the ‘tignon’ (a headscarf) for all Creole women of colour when in public. The Spanish colonial governor of Louisiana, Esteban Rodríguez Miró, believed that some black women had begun to show ‘too much luxury in their bearing’. The Tignon Laws were designed to control free black women; to keep them in a lower social class. This had a profound impact in the Caribbean, where it took many years for women to be proud of their natural hair; yet the story is now almost forgotten, despite its enduring implications. I wanted to recover it, and raise awareness, through this piece.
The smaller female figure with an unusual hair style represents the ability of black curly hair to defy gravity. While black hair is fragile in its structure, its remarkable strength and beauty is expressed in the unique styles that can be created with it.
This work challenges ideas about beauty and demonstrates that strength comes with knowledge and self-acceptance.
By the River
This work was inspired by a photograph of a spot in Newnham that I used to pass frequently, many years ago. It speaks about the impact we have on nature, as well as how places can anchor memories. That place holds many wonderful memories of my family. It has changed, but is still the same.
I had previously created prints inspired by Gwen Raverat, but COVID-19 put a stop to their development. I was drawn to the strong architectural lines of the bridge, which is white in reality, but not pristine, as in the quilt; sections of it are overgrown with yellow fungus.
I used the strong lines of the bridge to create tension within the composition, unsettling the viewer. I also added trees, and removed the river, replacing it with an expanse of deconstructed grass. The memory is all that remains.
This is an idealised representation of a real place: a testament to the fragility of both nature and memory.
Black and Orange Sunshine
As an exploration of memory loss – and the loss of memories – this work speaks thematically to By the River. The landscape is fictional and idealised. The face is minimally detailed: a mere outline, an evocation, literally more absence than presence.
Fragilis
Recently I was given a bouquet of sunflowers. I was inspired by their beauty, and took many photos with the intention of making work.
Sunflowers are bright and strong and resilient. The colour is striking, and the contrast between the vivid yellow petals and the dense darkness of the centre is spellbinding: it almost absorbs the viewer.
I started by drawing a few sketches, then enlarged this onto fabric, which I painted and quilted. The result was not working for me, so I started breaking down what I wanted to express with the sunflower theme. I had observed the changes which occurred with the sunflower and I knew that I wanted to explore that. It spoke of fragility, and this resonated with my previous work.
So, I cut the quilt into sections. The deconstruction is a metaphor for the changes that naturally occur, the once rich and splendid flower becoming a withered, drooping version of itself. Just as in nature, we become fragile as we get older: we shrivel, decay, and then die.
I added the black strips of fabric to bring attention to the cut edges, which would otherwise disappear into the composition. The stitched paper attached to the flower represents a dried, dead leaf, in contrast with the bright, living petals.
Remains
A continuation of the development of the fragile theme. This piece was made using painted and stitched paper and fabric. It represents the dried sunflower, in a state of decay: little is left of its formerly strong and vibrant presence.
My Windowsill
This work was inspired by a photograph of the random objects in my window, which have been collected over the years. These objects hold no monetary value, but are special because of the stories they carry: they evoke emotion, and provoke thought.
The wooden sculptures are from Haiti and tell a story of voodoo: they are important reminders of my mother-in-law’s life as a nurse with the Peace Corps. The wood is cracked and split: evidence of its age, and of a lifetime in motion around the world.
Stories of growth, illness, love and laughter surround the black warrior character, which was given as a gift by a close family friend. As Sherry Turkle writes in Evocative Objects: Things We Think With (2011), these objects ‘bring together intellect and emotion’, holding stories of my own life experiences, my friendships: memories that provide comfort and inspiration. These objects are healing to own; it’s healing to look at them, and they inspire elements of my practice.
The people connected to these objects are missing but their memories will always be stored in them.