By Estelle Simpson
In an art market where the odds are stacked against many emerging artists trying to break into the industry, Charlie Russell’s paintings are a shining light on show at ‘Buffer’, included in a group exhibition which stands to antagonise these boundaries. I also had the opportunity to ask Charlie more about her exciting work and her own experiences as a rising artist. Acknowledging the adversity of class-inequality in the UK, as Charlie shares, pursuing art as a young working-class creative comes with practical barriers which can be overcome through an integral pursuit of painting despite time and economic restraints, as well as the support of more inclusive opportunities and organisations which have emerged in recent years.
Standing in front of Charlie Russel’s monumental abstract canvases at Guts Gallery’s ‘Buffer’ I was met with a captivating balance of dualities. Incorporating jolted and shuddering marks mixed with organic forms referencing the dependable presence of light, aspects coexist to approach themes of working-class domesticity and navigating memory in her work. These compositions seem to be a place where cohabiting forces of raw expression in flux and awareness of the delicate significance of light in the everyday – both artificial and natural – accompany one another. The concept of light having an impactful presence within our everyday lives resonates deeply, considering its signal of safety, warmth and comfort; its tangible qualities are an aid outside of us when our interiors feel darker. The ethereal quality of light can be moving, becoming a safe space as its attraction offers a brief moment of respite, conducive of a sense of being present; looking at these giant compositions prompts this response as your eyes search through the layers.
Also offering her a way to confront her own femininity in these pieces, Charlie imparts a lens on contemporary issues. The emotive quality of Charlie’s work, depicting a collision of paint marks built in layers, is not only felt through her expressive use of colour, but through her titles as well. For example, ‘A blip in the love you thought you had for me’ and ‘Green Protection’ poetically reference an atmosphere of absence and chaos found in the work. Charlie draws on cathartic revisitations of heavier past experiences in a dynamic way: fathoming the depths of emotion and psychology through abstract expression. There is a clear fervour and urgency in the artwork which is testament to the resilience and creativity that is required to pursue art for those who do not fit into the elitist culture, a reminder that captivating expression can be embodied from less advantaged places and harsher realities. It is powerful to learn of a practice that grounds itself in a need for solace, and to witness the grand, graceful and brutal artworks that result from this.
Growing up in South London, Charlie has pursued a masters at the RCA and recently received the opportunity to join the Working Class Creatives Database residency programme, where she currently conducts these reflections in her studio at SET. Given the long underrepresentation of working-class and women’s voices within creative industries, artist’s such as Charlie provide hope that there can be more equality fostered in the art market; this feels like an encouraging push towards an art world where class or gender disparity does not matter.
This uplifting of underrepresented narratives is also championed by Guts founder Ell Pennick, using the gallery to share their desire to curate a collection that transgresses the barriers of the traditional art scene and asserting an ethos on a focus on creating more meaningful opportunities for artists. In an industry that can often feel impenetrable, exhibitions such as this offer an expansion of diversity in collections and rally for the value in investing in young creatives.
Whilst there is undeniably a long way to go, it is promising to see women who pursue this abstract painting canon being highlighted in equal value considering the overshadowing of class-inequality and male-dominated histories. It is also a thrill to see more inclusive spaces for art shows in the heart of London, as new platforms emerge that finally shine a spotlight on incredible artists who have been shamelessly overlooked. Balancing an artistic practice with the demands of life comes as a greater challenge for many, yet as valuable voices break through, there is an exciting chance to diversify the representation in galleries so that these places make the experience of something moving, beautiful, challenging or thought-provoking in an exhibition seem more accessible to all.
Questions with Charlie Russell:
ES Congratulations on achieving a residency with the WCCD. How has this programme benefited your practice so far?
CR Thank you! It’s a bit surreal to have a studio space where I’ve grown up and where my family have always lived in Woolwich and Charlton. It’s these areas that inform my practice and I always thought it would be a pipe dream to practice so close to home, so for WCCD to be involved here and to have the opportunity to take part in its residency at SET is amazing. I’ve been following WCCD since 2020 and I’ve watched it grow and gain a lot of support which it deserves. I’m really grateful to be a part of it.
ES Are there any challenges or opportunities that stand out to you in pursuing an art practice, and are there any ways you have managed to navigate these?
CR Yes definitely – cost, time and space can make it difficult to fully engage a lot of the time, which is why the work WCCD are doing is so important. I’ve managed to get by so far but it does often feel like I’m always on the cusp of not being able to carry on. But I think that sums up the working-class experience in a way so it does give me fight to keep going. I reuse and recycle found materials, juggle jobs with studio time, and I’m always applying to opportunities like the WCCD x Set residency. It can be draining but if I wasn’t so certain that I wanted to paint then I would’ve stopped a while ago, especially after facing the criticisms, rejections and bits that I didn’t expect to come with painting. I have really bad imposter syndrome even when it’s my work on the walls. That’s why representation is important and any opportunity to engage and platform communities and underrepresented artists is essential. Finding people and collectives that share your experiences help.
ES What other spaces do you feel offer an inclusive atmosphere that make you feel empowered and inspired?
CR Like WCCD, I’ve also been following Guts for a long time and I’m honoured that my works are included in Buffer 3. Even after 4 years of committing to my practice I still get really anxious going to PV’s or entering gallery spaces. I didn’t grow up visiting galleries or being around art. But the support I’ve had from everyone at Guts, their whole ethos and message is really special – it sets them apart and the opening night of Buffer 3 definitely left me feeling empowered.
ES The title of your painting on show in Guts ‘A Blip in the Love you Thought you Had for Me’ seems to suggest a confrontation of difficult memories, as reflected upon through your painterly expression. How has your art practice provided you with solace?
CR My first year of BA at Camberwell was during lockdown, so I think like a lot of people I turned to home for inspiration. That’s when I started looking to my experience of class and social housing in London. Over the years it felt harder not to be so introspective on certain topics when I’m looking so close to home but I kind of resisted as my imposter syndrome still made me feel like I couldn’t or shouldn’t be so vocal about who I am. My mum left when I was six and I was raised by my dad. Until my mum left there was a lot of turmoil and instability in my life. The chaos led me to disassociate as a child and I realise now I developed a fascination with light and its variability or inconsistency, which I think is symbolic of how I viewed my mum’s love and changing surroundings. The warmth of the sun cutting through trees to hit concrete walls or the buzz of artificial light in the lift of my flat kind of helps me make sense of my childhood and how I relate that to and understand my experience of class. I’m still working it out but it’s reflecting on parts of my life that have shaped me fundamentally that help me understand the working-class experience and my position in it.
ESHow has your time in the RCA shaped your ongoing practice?
CR The RCA Painting course is a 1 year course now, so I do wonder what could’ve been if I had this extra year coming up. But regardless, even in the space of a year I feel like I’ve developed massively as a person and as an artist because of the people there. It’s conversations and immense support from other students, tutors, technicians and lecturers that made me feel safe to be so vulnerable when I had apprehensions as someone from my background being somewhere like the RCA. I did start the year feeling like I should be quiet and not rock the boat. I guess I still feel that in a way but I can now also talk openly about who I am, what I’ve experienced and why I’m proud about it without worrying about causing offence or whatever because it’s been welcomed and others have shared their experiences with me. A lot of barriers, both self imposed and externally, have been broken this year. I have the people I’ve met at the RCA and outside of it that I have to thank for that.
‘Buffer 3’ continues at Guts Gallery until 30th August.
Leave a Reply