In conversation with Emily Moore

“Being an artist is rebellious by nature.”

- Emily Moore

Image: Emily Moore. Photo credit Isabelle Young

When I connected to my video call with Emily Moore I was pleasantly surprised to find her sitting in the South of France. With a fancifully bright blue sky behind her, she explained that she was abroad for an artist residency. Emily’s journey to becoming a working artist has been nonlinear - after earning a graphic design degree, she moved away from creative work to do a myriad of jobs and raise her son. In 2017 she returned to school to pursue a BA in fine art, and when she was immersed in completing an MA at the Royal College of Art, she found herself graduating in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Now, Emily’s work has been featured in some of the world’s most prolific galleries, such as the Royal Academy of Art, Gagosian and White Cube, and she is a co-founder of RCA BLK, a support network of Black students and alumni from the Royal College of Art. My conversation with Emily became just as multifaceted as her artwork, touching on the rebellious nature of being a Black woman artist, the bittersweet impact of the pandemic on her career trajectory, and how her art practice honours her Jamaican ancestry.

How did you discover that you have a talent for art? When did you start making art?

My dad is a French polisher so I’ve always been around art. But initially it was school. You know when you have one of those great teachers? In primary school Mr Montero honed my art, told me I was a good artist. So it was my family and teachers along the way.

Initially I studied graphic design [when I first went to university twenty years ago] and then I actually went back to do fine art in 2017 and then finally I did my masters at the Royal Academy of Art. I’ve only recently been back on this art journey.

What was your career path before deciding to become an artist full time?

I worked in schools, I also did cabin crew, I worked in unions, I did lots of different things, but never [anything] hands on and creative. I kind of left that after my [graphic design] study.

Image: Triptych ‘Dancing Black Roses’ 2021. Photo Credit Emily Moore

Why do you think you left it?

For lots of different reasons. I feel like graphic design is very different from fine art. Someone said to me that you can make money as a graphic designer, but as a fine artist it’s very difficult to find a career. But at the time I didn’t know you could be an artist as a career.

Is the difference that fine artists work for themselves and graphic designers work for a client?

Yeah. I think being free and not having to work for someone is key [for me]. And not necessarily knowing the outcome but working and finding a solution. Problem-solving is something that I find more interesting rather than closing [a brief] and having to give it to someone else. The investigation is precious. That’s why in some of my practice there’s recurring themes.

That brings me to my next question - you constantly emphasise “wildness” and “rebellion.” Where do you think your rebellious nature stems from?

Being an artist is rebellious by nature. Not having a “nine to five,” working without knowing where your next pay cheque is coming from. It’s very… not radical, but especially for a Black woman, [rebellion is] a very interesting way to look at that free-flowing spirit. The nature of being an artist is rebellious, but being a working Black woman artist is definitely a rebellion. Society doesn’t give us our dues but also our roses, our black roses. It doesn’t give us our space to be and exist and flourish. I’m hard of hearing [stubborn] as well. Definitely put that in. Ask my family, they’d say “yuh too hard of hearing!” [laughs].

How did studying at the Royal College of Art shape your practice?

There were so many things that happened at the Royal College of Arts. I graduated in the middle of the pandemic. It was bittersweet because in the first year I felt like I hit the ground running, I was in every workshop. I felt like I made the most of my first year. So in my second year, [despite] the fact that I wasn’t able to graduate, there were so many nuggets of gold that I took that I was able to put into my practice. So that was the bittersweet because we didn’t have our studios, but I had so many resources and skills that I had accumulated in first year. It was a weird one, but then so many great things came out of [lockdown]. There was the Tomorrow: London at White Cube show, the Saatchi Gallery showcase, the graduate show that I was in.

How many people can say that they graduated during the pandemic?

It’s true! Yeah, it’s a part of history.

Not even just our history, but the world’s history. What you did at that time, what you wrote at that time, it’s only going to be specific to that period of time. We’re never going to be able to get that back. Because of the lockdown I made Black Woman and Child. That was made because I was at home - the materials, that process. So there were so many things that, maybe if I didn’t have the time… you never know, innit? It was a crazy time.

Image: Installation shot L-R  ‘Black Beauty’, ‘Black Roses Dancing in my Garden’, ‘ Kemet’ 2023 . Photo credit Emily Moore

In your other interviews you’ve spoken about “finding the spirit within” your materials. How do you connect to your materials to find its spirit within? How do you know what direction to go in?

I suppose there’s never a “one size fits all” [approach]. It’s always a continuous journey. At the moment I’m working on some chopping boards because I wanted to work on wood. I love the idea of reclaiming a language or history that we all know or that we’re all a part of but then mashing it up and creating something new. I want to pick up any material and find a way to use it within my work. In Jamaica there’s always a man that can do everything, like “you give me something, I can make something out of it, it doesn’t matter what it is.” I feel that that spirit has evolved into my work. Going back to Jamaica as a child and seeing a man, you walk past and you see a piece of wood and then later on when you’re driving past you see a whole table and chairs outside. My practice is that very ancestral spirit of pushing through. Intention but not, it’s just does it feel right? How would you describe that idea of “does it feel right, am I going down the right road”? Trusting your intuition–

I was going to say intuition.

Hmm, that intuitive nature of feeling through something. Also I witnessed that with my dad, him always pushing through with materials and working the surface as a polisher. So maybe that intuitive spirit has come from him as well.

What advice would you give to an aspiring artist?

Keep on pushing through. Let your work do the talking and have confidence in what you’re doing. …I feel like that’s so cliché.

[Laughs] Okay, how about practical advice?

I’d say definitely reach out. Go to shows and galleries and spaces that you like the work of. I think that’s important. And artists don’t bite. Speak to people who you enjoy. Be polite and respectful, but speak to people who make you feel a certain way about art. I think it’s great to work, but working in isolation is not necessarily the best thing.

If you haven’t studied, and it’s something that you want to do (because not everyone wants to study) then look at the places that are making the work [that you admire], or the people who came from there. Research, and just enjoy it! I feel like if art is your passion, if this is what you love, then it’s something that you should enjoy.

Instagram: @emily.moore7

Words by Liberty Martin