Artist interview: Marta Corada
Image credit: Marta Corada
Sometimes the best way to appreciate art isn’t by looking, it’s by listening. So if you have a few minutes to spare, I invite you to spend some time with the latest installation at The Smallest Gallery in Soho. Keep your ears open and attentive, because you’re bound to hear some amusing reactions to some notable items occupying the space, including a winged pig and a fuzzy neon pug. They’re crowd stoppers because they have baby doll faces. Comments from those passing by range from mildly amused to utterly confused.
Incorporating unfinished artworks and other random objects, the installation is a somewhat liberal recreation of the artist’s home studio. Looking through the windows at the miscellaneous bric-a-brac and fuzzy creatures sitting on broken furniture, I wonder what it might be like to work within such an environment. But since you can’t step inside this gallery I did the next best thing. I met with the artist.
Marta Corada was born in La Rioja, Spain. It’s about 500km west of Barcelona, where she studied Fine Art & Photography. The latter formed the basis of her early work experience and artistic practice. She quickly gained attention for her photomontage works that combine elements from dozens of images all taken from the same location at different points in time. The final result appears to be a single snapshot, except almost none of the people or things you see were ever there together. The works have an uncanny valley feeling to them, but they’re so technically well executed you can’t really figure out how they were made or spot any seams.
There’s a burst of energy when Marta talks about her early interest and introduction to photography, but just as quickly that energy dissipates as she laments how her practice became too methodical and time consuming. She also grew frustrated that her photo works continually led to questions regarding their meaning. Her intentions were never social or political, but “as soon as anything is even mildly recognisable, people will always make a connection” which she then had to acknowledge, defend or deflect. Over time, it simply wasn’t fulfilling anymore.
Throughout her life Marta found that she was drawn to collect things. “Toys and figures and whatever… or just a stone that I find with a particular shape. It all talks about what is inside my head and is always on display in my studio and house.” Those curios would eventually find a purpose when Marta decided to take a break from her photography work in order to discover what she really wanted to focus on. She started dabbling with felt, teaching herself how to knit and work with it, and would incorporate random items as a frame around which to shape and sculpt the fabric. It started as a whimsical way to distract her and keep her mind engaged, but something clicked. “I felt much more myself with it… and it’s not that I don’t feel myself with the photography. In my brain, there is no room for both at the same time.”
Most of the sculptures in the current installation are best described as hybrid creatures. They feature recognisable human and animal bits that have been re-configured together and encased within a pastel-coloured felt shell. One is a pink fuzzy fairy with two horns and no arms. It could be a Baby Puck if there was a prequel to A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The scene inside the galley is half taxidermist, half toy shop. Yet despite the incongruent, often bizarre mashups the overall aesthetics veer more towards a cute, kawaii-style friendliness. Maybe it’s the fuzzy felt and soft colours, but there’s an overriding feeling that these works are safe, innocent and non-threatening.
Image credit: Marta Corada
Somewhat surprisingly, Marta claims that most of these works began with no plan. She’ll pick a random object, start adding material, and things just begin to emerge. The process might best be described as intuitive, and it’s her intentional approach to avoid creating something from which an audience might infer a social or political context. “With sculpture there was none of that noise” she says, explaining that these works trigger entirely different reactions than the photomontage she became known for.
But as I studied her current works and photo archives, I noticed a commonality linking the two practices together. Both involve combining many existing things to create something entirely new, albeit familiar. I pose this to Marta and ask if this is her attempt to make sense of what is, or if she is trying to explore what could be?
“The whole process is about trying to figure out what I am looking for, or what I want to express. It’s more related to emotion than any sort of rational expression” but normally not something she says she is able to put into words until the work is done. “Sometimes I have an idea at the start, but it never ends up looking like it. If that was the case, I would just order something to be 3D printed.” The process helps her both explore her questions as well as find answers, which brings us back to her current show. I want to know why Marta wanted to share her intimate working environment with the denizens of Soho.
She explains that she curates and frequently changes the surroundings in her home environment, sometimes by chance and sometimes unknowingly, depending on what she is working on. The latest project will necessitate a change of environment, which then further inspires her work. It’s a möbius strip of inspiration that isn’t limited to her eyes, as she frequently conducts workshops. She found that “when people come to my studio, they are fascinated by the atmosphere” and because of that, she got deeply interested in the idea of sharing it with a wider audience.
My first exposure to her atmosphere was the day she arrived at the gallery with a van full of random homewares, chairs missing legs and other miscellaneous items that prop up the artworks in the display. Marta noticed my reaction and commented “I have an interest in broken things. We are not symmetrical are we? We are not perfect.” She’s not the only one with whom that resonates. Late on a Friday night while she was putting on the finishing touches a small group stopped to watch. One of them pointed at one of the works and yelled “That’s me! That’s me!” It’s just one of the many amusing reactions her work has triggered, and Marta has found that in addition to some great sound bites these new sculptures have opened doors to an entirely new set of galleries and collectors, including many in the Far East. In the beginning, however, that caused a bit of an identify crisis.
Many artists frequently shift and pivot their practice. It’s not uncommon in the industry, but Marta says she didn’t want to get stuck repeatedly having to explain a change in direction. She thought that a new, anonymous persona was the best way to introduce these new beings to the world, and she already had the perfect name to use. She decided to adopt the nickname that she had been given during an early career residency in Shanghai: Mei Mei.
House of Mei Mei is currently showing at The Smallest Gallery in Soho until mid-November.
Image credit: Marta Corada
A quick disclaimer:
As a Friend of the Gallery, London Art Roundup is provided with advance and behind-the-scenes access to interview the artists that exhibit at The Smallest Gallery in Soho. All contributions are voluntary. Neither the artist, gallery or London Art Roundup received any financial compensation for this interview.
Click here to read our interview with The Smallest Gallery in Soho.
Plan your visit
‘House of Mei Mei’ runs until mid-November 2024.
Visit thesmallestgalleryinsoho.com and follow @thesmallestgalleryinsoho on Instagram for more info about the venue.
Visit houseofmeimei.com and follow @meimeilab on Instagram for more info about the artist.
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Check the What’s On page so you don’t miss any other great shows closing soon.
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