‘Art should be accessible, not just another market for the happy few to speculate on.’

UCL student Moise Mbarga-Abega talks about his relationship with photography, creative inspirations, and the changing landscape of the arts industry.

Navigating a traditionally exclusionary arts community as a minority comes with the added burdens of art colonialism, Eurocentrism and incessant qualifying identifiers precluding your place in a mainstream art gallery. Today, social media platforms allow artists to curate their own space on their own terms, triggering a cultural and racial transformation in the industry. Spotlighting the underrepresented and championing artistic autonomy is crucial in destabilising the status quo.

This interview with Moise Mbarga-Abega - a final year European Social and Political Studies student and avid photographer - is the first of an extended series dedicated to promoting and amplifying the works of BAME artists and creatives at UCL.

So, what have you been up to during lockdown?

Looking back, I had three main phases. I rested, I reflected and then I did the work. In short, my routine consisted of binge-watching series with my sister, home workouts (plug to my friend @samfitbolarin and @Madfit), walks to keep myself sane, mindless scrolling of social media, some studying and a lot of self-care. Although, it does sound erratic, I was actually taking things slow for the very first time because there was not much more that I could do.

The pandemic has severely affected the UK arts' sector, and there is concern that artists will have to sustain the maintenance of treasured grassroots galleries and theatres. In your view, why do we need arts funding?

The pandemic has shown that we rely on artists during difficult times, as well as the great times. I believe that art is a public service and should be treated and funded as such. In a nutshell, I think that arts funding debate should be put into the wider debate of funding public services.

How did your interest in photography first develop? And how has your approach to this art form changed over time?

Photography and art run deep in my family. My maternal grandparents were keen photographers, shooting film [photos] of their lives across different continents. I don’t think they had the greatest cameras of their time, but they had the eye and that was enough. I particularly liked my grandmother’s way of taking frames. She’d always find a way to see the lines, the colours. I find real beauty in these pictures of times that I will never live. My grandparents’ pictures are a lasting, personal reminder that no matter where you look, there is beauty in the ordinary, even most mundane moments.

My mother perpetuated the tradition of constantly capturing moments on her many disposable cameras, so as a child, I’d take hers and practice. My very first camera was technically one of my mother’s many disposable ones. I then got an iPod Touch which I co-financed around 2014, which I sold for an entry base DSLR - the Canon 1200D - I had for a year or so and finally got my hands on the mid-range Canon 60d.

The core of my photography has always been human connection. Growing up, I’d take pictures of things that would spark my interest, or portraits of my friends and family. My approach has changed over the years as I’ve become more professional. I set up a business called Stroll, Snap and Smile in London, on Airbnb - I’d take tourists on a blended guided tour and photoshoot around central London - and have also embarked on personal projects. Ultimately, photography has always been there, present, in my life. It was there before I came to this world and it will be there after; in the shape of the work I intend to leave in this world.

Your photography is thematically diverse: from capturing fleeting human emotion, to a whole story told by an inanimate object. Is the subject matter a conscious decision, or more instinctual?

I think that my photography is, to some extent, a reflection of my personality. I have a wide range of interests and it shows in my photography. I think my photography is both instinctive and methodical. If I see something that stops me in the street, I have to take a picture of it, even if it’s just on my phone. However, when I do photoshoots for paid projects or personal projects, which are usually more fashion oriented, there is a lot of planning involved. So, planning the shoot will be very thought about and maybe when we get to the shooting day, I’ll let mine and my team’s instinct take over.

In 2018, you curated a beautiful exhibition honouring Black History Month at UCL. It is no secret that mainstream museums have been dogged by Eurocentrism, and slow to reflect diversity. How do you see this changing in years to come?

I am not a fortune teller nor an art expert. But, as someone who often goes to museums, I can tell you it is already changing. Last time I was in London, I saw Kara Walker’s "Fons Americanus" at the Tate Modern. Her work questions the commemoration of history through public monuments, and subverts the dominant narrative by focusing on the African diaspora. The sculpture struck me because it took up so much space in the Turbine Hall, and it wasn’t something you’d typically expect.

Being an artist is known to be difficult. Regardless of whether your skill is painting, photography, design, or dance, it’s very hard to break into this overly exclusive industry. Even though my mother is an artist, and attended the School of Fine Arts in Paris, it was never a path I seriously considered, or envisioned as possible for myself. It’s expensive, and unfortunately you don’t always get more out of it than what you put in.

For these reasons, diversity, inclusion and accessibility within the arts should preside every move every single day in the industry. Art should be accessible, not just another market for the happy few to speculate on.

What memorable responses have you had to your work?

Back when my exhibition for Black History Month was on, the BME officer at the time, Samira [Abdalla], told me that she had been sitting in South Cloisters, watching people’s reactions; an ethnically diverse group of middle-school children saw my work, were thrilled by it and took pictures with it. Although I didn’t witness it personally, it was really moving to hear that story.

Do you have any artists or creators that particularly inspire you?

I have a lot of artists and, just generally, people that inspire me. To name a few: I absolutely adore Tyler Mitchell’s work. He conveys the Black experience in the US with a soft yet strong perspective. His work for i-D magazine is beyond amazing and he is the mind behind Beyoncé’s 2018 Vogue Cover shoot. Melina Matsoukas too, the director behind Beyoncé’s music video “Formation,” has greatly inspired me. “Formation” is not just a song or music video; it’s a political statement, an anthem, it’s worth watching and paying attention to the lyrics and visual references. Other artists I admire include Nadine Ijewere, a London-born photographer of Nigerian-Jamaican roots, who was the first woman of color in the world to shoot a cover for Vogue, and also, Sarah Diouf from Senegal, who is the mind behind Tongoro Studio, a Dakar-based womenswear brand, 100% produced in Africa with international clientele. In France, I follow Rokhaya Diallo a lot. She’s a journalist, writer and activist, and provides an interesting insight about the situation of Black people, French republican universalism and white privilege. Finally, I am a huge fan of Beyoncé in case that didn’t get through! I love her songs, her strength, her music videos, her sheer devotion to every one of her projects, and ability to uplift other creatives inside and outside the Black community.

Finally, what is the role of an artist in modern society?

I’d say that the “role” of the artist is to be “politically” free. The Women’s Liberation Movement used to say about women’s struggle that the “personal is political.” So, I think artists should be political. Equally, merely a “role” sounds reductive to me; freedom inspires. Artists should be the person they want to be. To me, being an artist goes beyond the craft. Being an artist has to do with one's own life decisions.

‘Art should be accessible, not just another market for the happy few to speculate on.’

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