Have you always painted and drawn from when you were young?

Yes! It has been a part of my life since childhood. Most of us draw and paint as children, and I am glad I have never stopped. I love the playfulness of making and its physicality. It has shaped the ways I view and approach the world. I have always loved and had an appetite for making through cooking, sewing clothes, booklets, arranging plants, gardening, and choreographing, amongst others.

What did you study and what did you take away most from this period?

I was a Fine Art and Textile Design student at the Fine Art School Haute école des arts du Rhin in France until 2010. I sometimes long to do more academic studies but this requires additional time and mainly enormous financial resources in England. I love living here, but I am not keen on loans to access higher education. Besides, I also value other forms of education, self-learning, and fulfilling experiences; for me, summer work on a biodynamic farm in my teenage years, evening language classes, Ikebana lessons, living abroad, social and therapeutic horticulture courses, and current horticultural training have all had a huge impact on me.

Your work is very focused on nature and horticulture. When did this interest come about?

Humans are a part of nature; therefore, I see my paintings of people holding hands and drinking tea as nature paintings, too, just as much as my drawings of insects, potted plants and vegetable gardens. Nature and horticulture have always been a part of my daily life, thanks to my rural upbringing, mainly with my paternal grandparents and their ways of life (including food self-sufficiency, nurturing more than 500 potted plants, and permaculture practice).

When I relocated from a small village to living in a city by myself at eighteen, I began longing for more greenery and togetherness. I had questions I found answers to in grass-root movements, which I realised later were kindred to the ones to which my paternal grandfather was attentive; natural farming, growing food from organic seeds, the Japanese art of flower arranging known as Ikebana, plant-based eating and returning to Masanobu Fukuoka's work have all been part of my journey.

I have approached my creative practice as a garden; painting, photographing, drawing and writing form some of the plants in this garden. As part of a program of events at Camden Art Centre I had the chance to create my first large living installation which was a real turning point for me. It included vegan soil (with no bones or blood as often found in standard compost), turnips grown on my allotment, as well as hellebores and cyclamen, some of my favourite winter-flowering plants and it was presented alongside a musical performance by Petit Oiseau.

How much is being in nature part of your daily practice?

Since relocating to rural Oxfordshire, I have had the opportunity to go for weekly walks in lush hills and spend time on my allotment plots. My camera, a sketchbook, a pencil, a thermos of tea, along an enamel teacup are usually in my bag as I head out. I am also notorious amongst my friend for always having in my (heavy) bag some chocolate snack, a small flashlight, a mini snips scissor and a light rain jacket.

What is your process when you start a new work? Do you always have a direction in mind or is the process more fluid?

Sometimes I just make, and I have no idea what it will be; that is the pleasure of making. For example, I dyed old fabrics with the peels and pits of vegetables, fruits and nuts my family and I consumed without knowing how I would use them. In early 2017 I had big piles of fabrics in various colours, and part of that came to form the first Penser, Manger, Partager piece. In the same way, I also photograph a lot, and after years, I realise that a series is forming.

Do you work through periods of themes and interests which then create bodies of work or exhibitions?

Yes - yet it is not such a clear decision; instead, it is a bit of an “Oops! It spilt everywhere!” I have now embraced that, and I am somewhat amused by it. My interests seem to seep into my works and projects fluidly. For example, contemporary tea culture and the time I spent working on the first volume of the printed publication Journal du Thé led to tea's strong visual and material presence within my paintings. The artworks of the past two years also testify to my deeper involvement with gardens.

What is important to remember when things don't work out, either in art or life? There will be a brighter day, and I/you are not alone. So give yourself some space to recenter and enjoy quality time with yourself or someone you value.

How do you stay motivated when energy for the project is a little low?

I remind myself of the reasons why I started or joined this project initially. I try to identify why the energy might be lower and try to remedy it, starting with “how could this be more fun?”

What's the best advice you've had or heard for anyone starting out or starting something new?

The best advice I have received was from the artist Ming Wong. He gave it to me as I was in my early twenties, and I had the chance to work for him. The words might not be exact, yet this is how I remember them; “What matters is the work and creating the work, your time with the work and not the attention you get or do not receive for it, the interviews, the attention, the press can be a distraction.” Ming Wong's advice has contributed to shaping my commitment to practice.

By your side

Artists: Johanna Tagada Hoffbeck & Jatinder Singh Durhailay

Dates: March 18th - May 1st 2022

Location: HOME, London

Link: https://www.homebyrm.space/whats-on

www.johannatagada.net

@johannatagada 

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