CALLUM HELCKE - A SPACE BETWEEN SENSE AND SCENT.
M-A (A SPACE BETWEEN) meet dancer and future perfumier Callum Helcke. Photographed by Arnan Wang.
March 2023, LONDON.
In the short time I have known you, you strike me as a very driven person - may I ask what drives you forward?
What drives me...I can’t say I know for certain what it is. The things that drive me appear to change from time to time depending on my age, where I am, and who I am surrounded by. Yet there is a consistent theme that runs through the different periods of my life – it is something like a pursuit of meaning.
From a young age, the idea of chasing objective or materialistic goals has never interested me. Yet in my teenage years, I was never able to find a strong passion for any single pursuit – creative or academic – that I resonated with enough to envisage in my future. This led to feeling lost and indifferent - Still, I would always give my all to my endeavours without really knowing why...
During college, a shift in the foundations of my worldview started to take place that began to align my mind to my behaviour. Confused about my future and at a loss for ideas, I began to wonder why I tried so hard at everything, even though I had such little care for the outcomes. Although unconsciously, a sense of lack and a need to please others were there, something deeper appeared to resonate with me when in review. This was the deep sense of alignment I felt when pushing to my limits and trying my best – it didn’t matter what it was I was doing.
I have come to realise that what drives me in life may not be assigned to a specific job or hobby, but rather to the self-discovery that occurs during complete immersion in a craft. My passion in life arises from a curiosity for self and a longing to unveil the unknown, that which is only accessible when I give my all. The choice or direction of my pursuits seems guided by something bigger than me, yet each of the things I pursue seem to provide a question and an answer - about myself or the world.
You speak so passionately about perfume - a world that seems to connect so many sensibilities - can you express why fragrance resonates with you?
Scent lets me think and feel without words.
Growing up with parents who spend a lot of time on their garden, my summer memories are entirely coloured by scent. You could say I had a kind of addiction to smelling flowers when I was child. My sense of the seasons was - and still is - guided by the smell outside my bedroom window when I wake. The absent smell of snow in winter, the invigorating glow of hyacinths in spring, the hazy heat of tarmac in summer and the burnt wood of autumn. When I am captured by scent, there is a space between my thoughts and feelings – even if momentary – that feels more real than real.
A similar space appears to exist with all sensory experiences when one pays deep attention to them, though my affinity lies with the sense of smell. It was only recently however that I realised a link to perfumery. Having worked in the flavour industry during a year placement in my chemistry degree, my interest in perfumery became more tangible as I came to understand the science of the ingredients I was working with. During my spare time on this work placement, I discovered the unique perfumes of companies like ‘Le Labo’ and ‘Maison Margiela’. Fragrances that evoke a memory of summer or capture the essence of a city as opposed to typical masculine/feminine accords. How do the perfumers behind these fragrances make scents that are so intimately nostalgic and familiar, yet so distinct and matchless that they might be from another world?
With fragrance but smell in general, there is a world of chemistry and emotion connecting the body and mind with limitless possibilities. My interests here were foremost scientific due to my background in chemistry, but are now equally not so logical. I sort of wonder if I was to put my mind to this craft, what could I uncover about myself and the world?
You are a very fluent person, with languages - verbal and physical - where and how do you express your freedom?
Freedom for me is something that is felt before it is expressed. If I think about it, I am sure that I was feeling and expressing my freedom before I knew that was what I was doing.
Freedom exists in play and exploration. For me, this was abundant in childhood, but then lost in my school years until I discovered dance. Dance and movement in general offered me a mode of self-exploration that transcended the frameworks of academics and logic, though I didn’t necessarily understand the full extent of this when I started. Initially, I was absorbed in the novelty of learning a new craft but I was limited by a need to amaze or impress rather than explore. Maybe this is a consequence of the binary win/lose structure that we become so familiar with at school. It took me some time to learn that you truly can’t win or lose in creative exploration. Can a child win or lose whilst playing? The question is misplaced.
I initially trained as a hip-hop dancer in London but later began exploring movement in general. At first, I trained in teams that performed in showcases and competitions. This is very different to recently where training has become a very personal task - used to self-assess and review - internally mapping my feelings in response to movement. Ironically, performing to crowds may seem like expression, though the way I use movement now feels truer and freer than ever before.
Maybe the biggest turning point in my perspective on expression came during my year off after college where I began learning from Dominic Lawrence. Dom teaches movement as opposed to ‘dance’. In his classes, he cultures a perspective of compassion for oneself, and you feel a kind of spaciousness when exploring with him. This view was new and refreshing and expanded my perspective of dance to a form of meditation and self-discovery.
In every action, choice, or movement, I have learned that there exists the opportunity to step back, observe and create space. With this opens a range of new dimensions and possibilities that were once missed. Here I feel lies a truer sense of freedom which is felt internally and expressed genuinely. When I give myself to this process fully, I feel as free as a child.
During the pandemic, you worked at a pharmacy - this must have been a very challenging experience during such an unprecedented time - what did you glean from this period?
The pandemic was a strange time. My choice to work at my local pharmacy was initially a selfish one – I wanted work experience as my CV was looking a bit empty - though over my time working there, I became acutely aware of the suffering that people were experiencing, and I felt a sense of duty to my colleagues and the patients.
Before university, I went through a period where I wanted to become a doctor, so I had some knowledge of medicine and drugs that I was able to bring to the job. Initially, I thought the job would be mostly technical – i.e. drug dispensing – but due to the high pressure on our services from the lack of GP appointments, much of my time was spent facing patients.
Looking back, at some points my time at the pharmacy felt like a normal job, but at others, the pressure felt very real. However, what amazed me here was the determination of the pharmacist and his core staff - against the odds - to continue providing the best service possible for patients. The pharmacist knew all the patients by name and would always call to inform them about their prescriptions. Staff at the pharmacy would provide informal consultations where possible to patients who were unable to get GP appointments. In response, patients would treat us like family friends, sometimes bringing cake or home-grown vegetables as a thank you for our services. I came to appreciate the unconditional dedication and service provided by the team at the pharmacy. There are so many individuals out there who go unacknowledged and yet never stop giving. I get the sense that we must cherish these people when we meet them.
In such a difficult time, maybe the thing that shaped me the most was this - despite the extent to which people were suffering, they still had the grit to continue pushing on. Patients struck by terminal illnesses, unable to see family and friends were still pushing on. Partners of those bedridden and in constant pain were providing the best possible care and still pushing on. It made me think - there is always someone out there who is worse off than you, who is also working harder than you. This period ignited a renewed desire to push myself and I became more disciplined than ever before.
You have a strong appreciation for the concept of MA, how did you find out about it and how do you engage with it within your life?
I think I came to experience MA before I knew about it as a concept. Maybe the first time I was exposed to it was when reading ‘Snow Country’ by the Japanese novelist Yasunari Kawabata. In the opening chapter, the protagonist rides a train into the ‘snow country’ and notices a girl in his carriage through her reflection in the window. He watches intimately as her face dissolves into the stars and mountain-scape beyond. When I first read this scene, I remember pondering the space between each of the objects here – physical and emotional – and how the space is relational rather than empty.
The Japanese ability to highlight that which we normally miss never fails to amaze me. I have always been enamoured by experiences and feelings that are inconclusive and multi-layered. Like novels that ask you to decide how they ended, songs with so much ambience they make you want to cry, or fragrances that take you back to a memory that you don’t have. In all these there is something that feels off-centre, maybe even slightly unsatisfying and I wonder if that space between what we expect and what is could be described as MA.
I am not sure if one definition can completely capture MA – in ikebana, it relates to the space between flowers in an arrangement, in karate, it relates to the safe distance between two opponents, in a painting, it describes the blank space between the artists depictions. To me, these instances make me ask: where is the line between what we define as one thing and what we don’t. The space between is a living relationship and the physical lines drawn sometimes may be illusory.
When applied to my day-to-day life, MA makes me wonder about the gaps that occur in my subjective experience. For example, what lies in the space between thoughts? What about the space between a sensation and its recognition. A view of these smaller things gives me an infinite sense of wonder, for both the world and the body from which experience arises. My common thinking mind can become so caught up in goals or problem solving that the true nature of the subjective experience is missed. MA appears fundamentally a part of experience and our perception, and when I experience it, it spreads all throughout my mind and body in a pervasive calm.
Photographed by Arnan Wang Art Direction M-A (A SPACE BETWEEN)