The Venice Biennale is set to commence shortly, but artist Lubaina Himid remains unhurried. Currently at her home in Preston, the atmosphere is tranquil. Her wife and frequent collaborator, Magda Stawarska, is preparing tea while gardeners work in the backyard.
As we explore her charming Victorian terrace, we visit the adjacent house that Himid purchased. She has removed a wall between the two buildings and is nearing the completion of her new studio, which is spacious and filled with natural light. Various artworks are scattered throughout the space, and paintbrushes are organized in custom cabinetry, reflecting a sense of order and serenity.
This peaceful ambiance may stem from the fact that Himid has already set up her exhibition in anticipation of what promises to be a pivotal week in her career. “I tend to follow instructions,” she humorously remarks, contrasting herself with fellow artist John Akomfrah, who is known for his free-spirited approach. Himid, along with Akomfrah and Sonia Boyce, makes up a trio of black British artists from the same era who have made significant strides in the pavilion in recent years.
The British Council, which has managed the UK pavilion for nearly nine decades, provided Himid with a timeline: her artwork was to be photographed in January, shipped in February, and installed by the end of March. When she and her team arrived at the Giardini—the historic gardens hosting the national pavilions—they were the only team present.
Though given a break in April, Himid chose to marry before the hectic previews of May. “We had a brief respite, so we decided to tie the knot,” she explains straightforwardly.
The notion of the 71-year-old being obedient seems at odds with her public persona, as she has long advocated for her work to “disrupt,” “remind,” and “create tension.” Over the past four decades, she has openly criticized the art world’s hypocrisy and maintains a “little black book” documenting the prominent curators who once overlooked her work but now celebrate it.
Himid’s artistic tools have ranged from canvas to ceramics and textiles, often exploring themes that traverse the Black Atlantic and art history, granting visibility and significance to silent black figures. Her distinctive cut-out style, a nod to her background in theatre design, has allowed her to connect the grandeur of architecture to the uncomfortable truths of colonial history.
Once branded a “cultural terrorist,” she likens her art to “perfume”—subtle yet captivating, with a lasting impact. During her time at the Royal College of Art, she faced numerous challenges, particularly from tutors who dismissed the existence of black artists. Unfazed, she responded defiantly and wrote her thesis on contemporary black British artists, becoming a prominent figure in the Black Art Movement of the 1980s, where she connected with peers such as Akomfrah, Boyce, and others.
For much of her career, Himid operated in the shadows of the art world. It wasn’t until the mid-2010s that her work gained recognition in mainstream galleries. In 2017, at the age of 63, her fortunes changed when she won the Turner Prize, a result of a rule change that allowed artists over 50 to be eligible. “I won it for all the times we dared to speak up,” she reflects. “We attempted various initiatives; some succeeded, while others faced tragic losses.” (Notably, Sulter and Rodney passed away in 2008 and 1998, respectively.) In the 1980s, she curated influential exhibitions, including “The Thin Black Line,” and now she stands poised to present her work in the prestigious Venice pavilion.
What does it mean for her to represent Britain—a nation with a complex history she has critically examined for years? “I understand this place well,” says Himid, who arrived in the UK as an infant after her father’s death in Zanzibar. “I’ve witnessed numerous changes, from governments to policies and people. Cities evolve, and I’ve gained insights from various locales, not merely London. I could sense Brexit approaching.”
For Himid, the question of whether she should represent Britain is misguided. “That inquiry feels utterly absurd,” she asserts. “No one would pose that to Cathy Wilkes. It’s a racially charged question.”
Yet, I inquire about the more nuanced aspect: did she ever contemplate declining the opportunity? After all, the British pavilion, like the Biennale itself, is steeped in the colonial legacy and nationalism that her work has critiqued for decades. “As an artist, I believe—whether it’s true or not—that you can transform spaces,” she responds. “Once your project is placed within it, it becomes a reflection of your vision.”
Himid’s pavilion, titled “Predicting History: Testing Translation,” evokes a sense of hidden complexities, reminiscent of David Lynch’s “Blue Velvet,” which juxtaposes a seemingly idyllic narrative with darker undertones. The interior has been revitalized with 78 liters of vibrant bianco ottico paint and features a barrisol lighting system that casts a brightness akin to a typical British summer’s day.
“It may sound clichéd,” Himid notes, revealing that Stawarska has curated a soundtrack that includes birdsong, insect sounds, and the English folk melody “Early One Morning,” performed by Greek artist Nana Mouskouri. “Then it takes a turn, becoming increasingly peculiar.”
Himid has produced six large-scale paintings, each depicting various figures such as boatbuilders, architects, chefs, gardeners, and tailors. These works not only showcase her artistic vision but also serve as a testament to her enduring impact on contemporary art.
