97. SAM JOSEPH: A SPACE BETWEEN VALUE AND LIGHT.
Sam Joseph, Hyde Park, February 2024.
‘For me, the act of bringing light into discarded spaces became a metaphor for this healing process, both reclaiming spaces and reclaiming parts of myself.’ S.J.
Please can you introduce your practice?
My practice as a multidisciplinary artist and designer with a visual impairment, centres on exploring physical spaces and their capacity to convey stories, emotions, and societal narratives through fine art and design methodologies. Through multidisciplinary approaches, spanning film, printmaking, photography and spatial design, I personify spaces by embedding them with histories and experiences, particularly focusing on themes of gender-based violence, value systems and systemic inequality. By working across media and curatorial practices, I aim to challenge the perception of overlooked, devalued spaces, transforming them into platforms for empowerment and critical dialogue through design, photography, print and film. Imagery created by experimenting, including scale, uses a specific location as a backdrop and initial starting point to any project, which forms the foundation of my ongoing projects.
Your commitment to developing ideas is fascinating... how do you process your instincts within your practice?
Instincts are integral to my creative process, serving as both an emotional and intellectual compass when engaging with spaces and thematic concerns. I often begin with an immediate, visceral reaction to elements such as light, materiality, or the overall ambiance of a space, particularly those considered marginalised or neglected. This intuitive response catalyses further exploration, which is subsequently informed by systematic research, technical experimentation, and collaborative efforts.
My approach is inherently multidisciplinary, involving a deconstruction of ideas through various methods, including the integration of personal narratives, focused research on subjects such as gender-based violence, the built environment, design methodologies, and emerging technologies. By examining concepts from a diverse range of perspectives, I aim to rigorously analyse and refine my ideas, ensuring that they resonate within both artistic and broader societal contexts. This process allows for a comprehensive and nuanced development of ideas that emerge from, and are informed by, initial instinctual responses.
The sense of time within your work is very specific, echoing history and always with a feeling of momentum. Please can you expand upon how you engage with time within your work?
Yes, time is an important factor in my work, explored through its layers, past, present, and future. I engage with time by responding to spaces that hold historical echoes while also embodying a sense of transformation or anticipation. These spaces often evoke a visceral, cinematic quality that I capture through photography, marking the starting point of my creative process. Photography becomes a way for me to capture that moment where the past converges with the present, inviting reflection on what was, what is, and what could be.
This engagement with time is often translated into my narratives or projects that explore societal issues. For example, in my speculative design for a transitional home for women escaping domestic abuse, I considered the temporal transition between trauma and healing, designing a space that reflects both the weight of the past and the possibility of renewal. Similarly, my upcoming short film (IN)VISIBLE uses a partially developed architectural space to explore societal instability, where the unfinished structure reflects the fragility of the present and the potential for future change.
Technically, I address time through iterative processes that challenge permanence. My photolithographic book soon to be exhibited at Southwark Park Galleries this year, for instance, features a curated neglected space with objects of no value that fade with each reproduction, emphasising the ephemerality of memory and materiality. Inspired by Hito Steyerl’s, poor image, this work juxtaposes degradation and precision to reflect the passage of time.
Ultimately, time within my work becomes a tool to provoke reflection on collective responsibility, connecting history and the present to inspire future action.
Within your work, there are many areas of cross-over, of a palpable change in state as materials morph...
The concept of morphing and melding in my work represents a transformation, one that is as much about materials and processes as it is about the societal contexts I aim to challenge. This change in state, reflects a shift from visible to invisible, from marginalisation to empowerment. For instance, in Why Did(n't) You Leave? I reimagined an existing site of an industrial factory, a symbol of labour and cold efficiency, as a sanctuary for survivors of domestic abuse. Here, I combined personal narratives with technical experimentation and collaborative processes to transform the space into a platform for healing and empowerment.
This idea of transformation extends to my project (In)Visible, where I consciously explored the theme of gender-based violence and value systems through multiple mediums, including film, photography, printmaking, and spatial design. I worked to challenge conventional distinctions between materiality and meaning. By blurring these boundaries, I sought to draw attention to both the invisibility of systemic values, injustices and the resilience of those affected.
For me, this state of transformation also represents a personal challenge: to push the limits of my practice by experimenting with new skills, media, and concepts. (In)Visible became an opportunity to explore not only innovative methodologies but also the potential of art to question our built environment, entrenched societal norms to inspire change. Ultimately, this melding of material and societal critique allows me to create work that engages with broader issues of equity and justice, challenging both myself and my audience to envision new possibilities and narratives.
The first time we met we spoke about light and the metaphorical need to illuminate as seen in your work... how do you use light in your practice?
Light, as both a physical and metaphorical element, plays an important role in my practice as both artist and designer. Inspired by Tonino Griffero’s reflections on light as a transformative force and Gernot Boehme’s exploration of light’s role in creating atmospheres, I see light as an active participant in shaping spaces and narratives. Light is intrinsic to how I connect with spaces, often serving as the initial point of emotional resonance through my photographic and print practice. I am drawn to how natural light interacts with undervalued or discarded environments, transforming them into cinematic frames that hold beauty and narrative depth.
This is also evident in my use of architectural daylighting, an aspect of my art and design practice where natural light inspires well-being and emphasises the stories embedded within spaces. Beyond its physical presence, light serves as a metaphor for awareness and revelation, illuminating critical issues such as gender-based violence and empowering marginalised voices. Through light, I aim to create spaces that are seen and felt, inspiring emotional connection and societal reflection.
In our original discussion, when you first asked me why I wish to bring light within dark spaces, the question made me stop in my tracks. For nearly two weeks, I sat with it, reflecting deeply. Initially, I had believed this was purely an emotive and instinctual response, but when you asked why, I couldn’t answer at the time. What I discovered through this self-analysis was that my desire to capture, illuminate, or bring light into spaces was deeply personal. It was rooted in my processing of trauma of sexual violence at school and then domestic abuse through my marriage.
In my research, Judith Herman’s seminal work Trauma and Recovery, the process of reclaiming agency and creating meaning is vital for survivors. She highlights that trauma often fractures one’s sense of time and self, making the act of rebuilding a cohesive narrative essential to healing. For me, the act of bringing light into discarded spaces became a metaphor for this healing process, both reclaiming spaces and reclaiming parts of myself. These spaces I turned to were an escape, a detachment from reality. The self-seen aestheticism in neglected, discarded places became my solace. I found beauty in these overlooked environments, resonating with their resilience.
Bessel van der Kolk, in The Body Keeps the Score, also resonates with me emphasising how trauma is stored not just in the mind but in the body. This notion of physical and emotional imprint resonates with how I engage with space and light, using them to create environments that allow for a sense of safety, transformation, and renewal. For me, these neglected spaces mirrored my own experiences of feeling undervalued and invisible, and my fight to present them as worthy, to bring light and value to them, paralleled my own struggle for self-worth and potential.