By Charlie Siddick
Imagine waking up to an email asking you whether you’d like to interview one of your idols… it’s every writer’s wet dream. That’s what happened to me recently on a gloomy and otherwise non-remarkable December day, “ThandieKay would probably love an interview with Pat Cleveland?” read the subject line, followed by a brief description of Pat’s achievements and accolades, which let me tell you are hard to compress. “Yes, ThandieKay would love to interview Pat Cleveland” I hastily responded without consulting either Thandie or Kay, because I mean, Pat’s the perfect fit- and one of the world’s first ‘African-American’ supermodels, and certainly the most fabulous.
Pat made a name for herself in the late 60s and 70s as one of the first models to achieve prominence as both a runway and print model. Close friends with the Studio 54 set; Cleveland was a muse to Warhol, Dali, Saint Laurent, Lagerfeld and Halston (to name but a few). Modelling allowed Pat to travel the world, mix with and inspire countless artists and celebrities.
Now in her late 60s, age hasn’t withered her beauty, spirit or energy; remaining a regular fixture on the catwalk and in advertising campaigns- as her daughter Anna continues the Cleveland modelling legacy- she has returned her focus to an early passion; that of painting.
Pat and I spoke over Facetime one evening, in the midst of a current show in London and preparing for others in the States. She tenderly guided me around her studio and home, showing me her diverse art collection and some of her own work.
Pat is bubbly, endearing and possesses a unique childlike combination of naiveté and excitability. Despite being reduced to a screen of grainy pixels teleported across oceans- Pat’s iconic bone structure still shines brightly. Her melodic and drawling voice possesses faint traces of her Harlem upbringing and draws one in; captivating and transporting you back with her to whichever glamorous and prodigious reminiscence she chooses to meditate upon.
They say you should never meet your idols as they’re just bound to disappoint. But it was honestly an honour to speak to Pat- an experience I’ll never forget- I feel changed by her advice and wisdom. We bonded over our heritage and our revelations from using Ancestry DNA, we were a scarily similar percentage of African and Scandinavian- she found 6 siblings through using the website! Her musings on modelling gave me a much-needed sense of artistic perspective on an industry I sometimes find too shallow and consumerist to bear.
Notice how she slips between the use of the personal pronoun ‘I’ and the objective ‘you;’ when she speaks of her experiences she formulates them as though she is relating advice. Pat’s lived a fascinating and unbelievable life and therefore we should all be able to learn something from her. Pat’s gregarious guide to living:
How did you first get into modelling?
I started out as a fashion designer when I was around 14/15, I was always obsessed with fashion and made my own clothes. I always participated in what I thought was nice looking, or beautiful, I loved the idea of going out and looking good; dressing up and feeling good. That’s what fashion is supposed to be- embodying living art.
One day when I was wearing one of my own designs, a woman on the subway told me to come to the Vogue office to show them some of my clothes, an editor saw them and said: “I’m taking these to Paris, to Givenchy!” Following that they gave my clothes a 2-page spread. It was stocked in (Henri) Bendel’s for a while, but it was so exhausting- I was a one-man show.
One day when I was at Vogue, they didn’t have a model so pointed at me and said- “you’ll do!” I was enamoured and thought why am I slaving away all night sewing? I thought this was fun, partly cause you get to be around people- all I wanted to do was see the clothes anyway…
What was the industry like at the time?
There was a division between photo girls and show (runway) girls at the time, there weren’t many show girls then, maybe 10 in the whole of NY. It was kind of like an elite fashion club. If you were black it was hard, and I was kind of in the middle, so no one knew what to do with me.
It didn’t really take off for me till I met a designer called Steven Burrows and the illustrator Antonio Lopez, they were so important to me, so hot and so fabulous and they sort of just included me in everything they did. That’s how I met Andy… we’d go out to the Village, to Sheraton square, people could see me and appreciate me more because of who I was with.
We were all coming up at the same time, these people made a real difference in my life; Karl Lagerfeld, Yves, Valentino, and Halston…definitely Halston.
What did the label “African-American” feel like for you- someone of mixed heritage, predominantly Swedish?
The press referred to me as a ‘black’ model and I’d look at my skin and be like where’s the black? But I live in America where they separate you into black and white. Recently it’s become ok to be ‘mixed-race’, but before it was like: if you had one drop of black in you- you were black and it was meant with negative connotations whereas, I’ve always honoured it.
Africa is a big beautiful country, that’s inspired so many people; YSL, Picasso… everyone take their inspiration from Africa. And everyone has a ticket to ride- America’s a melting pot- everyone’s coming together to make a nice Mother colour.
I was out there in the beginning because they allowed me to be there, perhaps because I was lighter skinned- more palatable- but also because I’m just innately a fashion person.
Yes, I can tell you’re a fashion person, with your iconic fashion walk! How did you think the fashion industry has changed today? And do you think it’s for the better?
Time is precious; people don’t have time for romance anymore. That’s what my walk was- romantic. Romance is slow and moving- business is fast and competitive. The catwalk is more like a conveyer belt sometimes- you’ve got to get those groceries on the conveyer belt and out the other side! Fashion now, has so many more people involved- more people, more cameras.
It used to be quieter; an isolated art that had nothing to do with everybody from anywhere. It had more to do with ‘ladies’ and ‘gentleman’ from a certain part of society. I guess it’s a natural occurrence, things that were small and exclusive become large and accessible.
At the end of the day, it must be a good thing, as there are more opportunities for people to work at different levels of the industry. Fashion is a huge and powerful global industry. It’s opened up; it’s kinda like- do you just sell to the people taking limos? Or the people taking buses and trains?
How long have you been painting for?
That’s what I started out doing, I went to art school, but then modelling took over. Even then I was always scribbling in notebooks when on set. When Dali, Warhol and I hung out we’d always be scribbling on tablecloths together- have drawing wars. All the artists in my life took an active interest in my work, encouraging me to grow. They’d peek over my shoulder and say, “that’s a good drawing!” “that’s really nice- let me have it!” It really was that creative, bohemian lifestyle where we just thrived off each other’s energies.
What encouraged you to start focusing more of your energy on art and formally presenting your work?
My mom was a successful fine artist, she passed away two years ago, so I kinda figured-as she wasn’t looking over my shoulder telling me ‘that’s not how you do it’. I thought well she’s gone now- I’ll do what I want! When I paint I can feel how happy it made her. She painted until the very last minute, so I take that as a sign- a way to be happy. In a way, through art, her spirit still entertains me.
Does your mother’s artwork inspire you? How would you describe your work and your practice?
My mom was a fine portrait artist, whereas my work is more decorative and abstract. Partly because I live in the middle of nowhere and I don’t have many people around me when I paint. I’ve done portraits of my daughter (Anna Cleveland) and son. Of course, I love Sargeant! And really all the artists I used to mix with continue to influence my work.
I try and paint 2-3 works a day; I love colours so my palette tends to be bright and bold. When making art, you go through stuff, you look at all the masters, you go through it and absorb everything that everyone’s done, and you don’t try and do your own thing because you know it’s been done before! It’s all been done before, everything; portraiture, fine art- everything- pyramids, architecture… So what you have to do is not worry it’s all been done, and just do it anyway. Sometimes when I get up and get dressed for parties now, I think I’d love to get back to my paintings!
Clearly, you’re innately a creative, but spending so much time as a muse to other artists gave you awareness of both sides. Did being a model and therefore the object of another’s creative’s gaze feel problematic at the time? I sometimes find it tough being a passive participant in someone else’s vision.
You’re the important part, without you there is no image! You should feel grateful that they want you to be a part of their art. Identity isn’t a flat surface, there’s also the soul and the way you feel which is hard to capture in fashion photography. A model is there to invoke the spirit of the times. Your body is a work of art! A woman’s body, when you’re young… is the most beautiful thing in the world. These days there are disabled women modelling, transgender women, plus-size women- they’re all forms of beauty. Hieronymus Bosch/Sergeant– it’s just different forms of beauty. Whenever I model, I just feel honoured- like they really picked me?!- I better do a good job! I better work hard to make this image they see happen, as a team.
Check out some of Pat’s artwork in the group show ’75 works on Paper’ at Beers Gallery, on until the 24th of December
Follow Pat Cleveland on Instagram
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by Emeline Nsingi Nkosi
A Cosmetic Scientist, Founder of Cherry Coco (a natural skincare company) and Black Beauty Communications ltd. Cheryl Jumbo, one of six children, was born in Glasgow to Nigerian parents. She recently announced the UK’s first ever beauty industry awards event for Black Beauty products aptly named the “Black Beauty and Fashion Awards”.
We spoke about her experience in the beauty industry, BBFA and what she plans on achieving …
“Black Beauty and Fashion Awards is a movement, I am set on advancing the industry.”
Today I am someone who loves business and empowering people; I think it’s important to leave a legacy. I find much satisfaction in supporting individuals in pursuing their dreams; I believe you can accomplish anything you commit yourself to!
My entry point to the beauty arena was most unexpected, around the age of 19, I had intended on purchasing a premium foundation from a company called fashion (there wasn’t much else available), whilst I was browsing I was approached by one of the beauty consultants. We started talking, she enquired about my skincare regime, my interests and asked me what I was doing for a living. I explained that I was studying to become a Sound Engineer. She scoffed lightly and said “no no no my darling, YOU belong in the world of beauty. I can see you now with your silver Hitachi case going to a business meeting”.
As a student of sound engineering, I was the only female in my class, which I didn’t mind much at all. I needed a part time job so I decided I’d explore a little, I sought employment with a cosmetics consultant agency to find out more about the world of beauty.
I had assumed it would be very superficial but being creative and technical I excelled. As I began to consult and sell cosmetic products to consumers, I yearned to understand why people were buying from me besides my selling technique. What was so good about these products? What made them so effective? Were they truly beneficial at all? I wanted to learn the science behind these amazing pots of promise.
Fortunately, around that time The London College of Fashion, had recently introduced to the UK a new BSc (Hons) Cosmetic Science, I secured a place and eventually, proudly graduated whilst maintaining employment throughout my studies.
Since then, I have gained a broad experience of the industry, working in various capacities from setting up a beauty business, working as an expat in Africa, providing skincare workshops, brand development, consulting, working in regulatory affairs at QVC UK, product design and formulation of skin care at E.C Dewitt and Manufacturing at Barry M Cosmetics.
In the UK, I have found myself working in places where I am the only black person in the entire organisation. This has presented some great advantages and in some cases disadvantages, I am keen to see more of us in this arena, our contribution is necessary in a multicultural society.
Sadly, BBFA was born from a feeling of social exclusion. Every single year, we have beauty industry awards that celebrate the great product offerings available from various brands across the UK and further afield. This is great until you realise that none of the products spot-lit with adulation cater to your needs. One particular year as my colleagues and I geared up to attend the latest installment of beauty awards, I pondered on this fact; I have contributed hugely to the UK economy via my hair and beauty needs and wants. I pondered on the fact that at age 19 my only choice of foundation was an expensive premium product, which as a student cost me a small fortune.
I decided that I would become the change that I wished to see. It was at that moment, 6 years ago, that I knew I would create the Black Beauty and Fashion Awards! It would be a celebration of diverse black beauty and culture. However, it would have been seen as too Afrocentric, and so I decided to wait until the right time, which is NOW!
Our event is divided into two halves, firstly, the public voting poll which lasts approximately 4 months from March 2017, followed by the corporate end which takes place later in November.
BBFA seeks to empower BMR* consumers’ voices to express their passion for the products they enjoy using or want to support, and exercise their unassailable right to inclusion. Black males are for the most part ignored in advertising of grooming products. Women of colour spend on average, six times more than their counterparts on hair and beauty products. It is about time to acknowledge this significant contribution to the economy.
Advancement is taking place within the industry concerning black beauty, hair and fashion and it must be acknowledged. There’s a great range of products available for BMR people, but a ‘disconnect’ exists between brands, retailers and consumers. Often people can’t find what they want, although it exists…somewhere.
BBFA seeks to promote, encourage and celebrate producers of high-quality BMR products and build bridges to prompt greater inclusion via mainstream channels. This is all towards bringing about the growth that our communities will also benefit from.
My dream is to see Black Beauty and Fashion Award-winning products made available to the public in mainstream stores across the UK
My vision is to celebrate the diverse beauty and see greater representation in mainstream media. To acknowledge the brands that have over the years, diligently catered to our ever-changing beauty needs. To support entrepreneurialism. In a multicultural society, I would like to see more BMR individuals as manufacturers, retailers, wholesalers and being part of the supply chain of this industry. After all, we are the ones using the products! It would be great to have a hand in what’s being added to these products created to care for our unique beauty.
My mission is to advance the beauty industry, impacting it positively. To celebrate the diversity of black hair and skin and our beautiful culture. To make BBFA a global entity as we expand our Industry award to the Continent and the Caribbean.
All winning products and brands have the right to carry the BBFA winners’ seal created to be displayed on company websites, marketing literature, and products, visible to consumers at the point of sale.
BBFA is the people’s choice award! We are here to elevate to empower the voice of consumers, to alleviate social exclusion and to carve out a space for our beauty products in mainstream outlets. We hope to see Black Beauty and Fashion Award-winning products available online and in high street stores.
Black Beauty Communications’ BBFA has amongst its aims, to be the go-to marketing and quality assessment vehicle to help both lesser-known and readily recognisable businesses gain greater brand awareness within Black and Multiracial client groups. In so doing, a more mutually beneficial exchange emerges, wherein BMR people, with a predicted £100 million 2016 hair and beauty spend, shall notice better representation in mainstream channels. This leads to greater opportunities in employment. Brand loyalty, improved market segmentation and CSR fulfillment are just some of the elements available to participating businesses at the other end of the exchange.
Yes, indeed they should be. So many elements of our culture are used and adopted in the mainstream, from our hairstyles and fashion to music and dance. I believe our ingenuity, success, creativity and innovation need to be acknowledged mainstream also. It’s a known fact that we tend to be products of our environment, witnessing achievements mainstream provides aspiration for peers and following generations.
To some extent yes. I believe that these organisations have missed a trick when it comes to black beauty and fashion. For decades black and multiracial individuals have engaged these brands frequently only to feel a sense of exclusion and being overlooked. Perhaps their lack of offering comes from a lack of understanding of our hair and authentic beauty.
The inaugural Black Beauty and Fashion Awards is a Red carpet affair. it will be a stupendous night of beauty and style on Friday 3rd November 2017. The venue of choice is the beautiful Porchester Hall; I adore its classic art deco design. Amongst others, in attendance will be manufacturers, retailers, entrepreneurs and industry professionals. The evening will include a fashion show, 3-course elegant dining experience, live entertainment, award ceremony, charity auction for Lupus and Alopecia UK and much more.
There will be various voting categories, such as Best shampoo, Best hair treatment, Best Foundation etc and we have a number of special awards including Beauty entrepreneur of the year, Fashion entrepreneur of the year, Best new business venture, Best new beauty tool/appliance as well as honour an amazing individual with a Lifetime Achievement award for their Contribution to the Beauty and Fashion industry.
Voting is easy. Simply visit www.bbfawards.com/voting-online. All voters are automatically entered into the BBFA cash prize draw and the opportunity to win some amazing goodies. Prize winners will be selected randomly and announced via our social media platforms later in the year.
[BMR* – Cherry’s own acronym , Black Multi-Racial]
by Rose Miyonga and Jamila Prowse
Typical Girls is an intersectional women’s magazine. When it was established at the end of 2015 it was to create an inclusive space: one where self-identifying women from a variety of backgrounds, ages, cultures and disciplines could come together under one roof. In this way it was established as a response, an alternative to women’s publishing as it stood at the time. We wanted to genuinely represent our contributors, in a way that was honest to them, and avoided tokenising.
When I speak about the catalyst behind establishing the magazine, I often return to my childhood. I grew up in a predominantly white middle class community and was raised in a single parent household by a white mother. Despite having a mixed heritage (my dad was black South African) I did not have access to my black heritage growing up. As such, I didn’t strongly identify with my blackness. Yet, being noticeably ‘other’ in my appearance, compared to those around me, I also experienced a strong sense of alienation in my formative years which lasted well into my 20s, and still follows me today.
I always loved magazines as a teenager. The glossy pages seemed to hold secrets into another world. I would tear those pages out and paste them all over my wall, staring at them longingly, and hoping that their magic would somehow seep off the page and into my own life. I was overly romantic, and aching for something of importance to happen to me. I tried to imagine myself in those pages, in those worlds, but I could never quite make the leap of imagination to align myself with them. None of the girls in those pages had hair or features like my own. I would spend hours in the bath smoothing down my afro hair, willing it to stay straight. As much as I hoped and wished that the pastel colours of my favourite publications would influence my own life, I knew deep down that I did not belong in that world, because nothing had ever shown me otherwise.
It’s infuriating that, up until recently, you had to scour popular culture to find black faces reflected back. The few examples of black representation we had were nothing more than homogenised stereotypes. You would struggle, too, to find any discussions or explorations of mixed heritage. As a young teenager I was convinced that there was no one else who felt remotely the same to me.
TG was established in order to ensure that young women of colour could see themselves mirrored in the pages of a magazine. If young people don’t see themselves reflected in the world around them, how will they view themselves as being a part of it? Thankfully, with increasing discussions around representation things are starting to change. Women’s publishing is no longer the whitewashed space that it once was. Instead of responding to a lack, we are now part of a wider dialogue. I am so pleased to be able to provide a platform which contributes in some way to that conversation. If we can create a movement in women’s publishing which truly reflects all women, than we will have achieved something.
We have an extremely tiny editorial team who put together TG. It is made up of myself, our Art Director Chani Wisdom, and our newest Editor Celiya Koster. Initially, after deciding on a theme, we put a call out for submissions. Then the three of us go and source content based around this. Our contributors are the ones who really form the publication. We get sent such incredible work, and people give so much of their time and energy to our little publication. We wouldn’t exist without them.
For issue 3, visual artist, writer and creative consultant Amarachi Nwosu came to us to pitch the cover story. Amarachi assembled an incredible team in New York, and took to the streets of Brooklyn with our cover star Gabrielle Richardson. Gabrielle is a curator of the Art Hoe Collective, an online platform which showcases the work of PoC. Gabrielle is at the forefront of a movement of creatives who are shaping the future of representation. She is facilitating the voices of young people, Amarachi recognised that instantly, as well as the fact that Gabrielle’s ethos is entirely aligned with our own. The vision and dedication of the team behind that shoot brought a real magic to our third issue. You can feel the life jumping out of the pages when you look through it.
Once all the content is together, it’s just down to Chani and her laptop. Months of graft and painstaking work from Chani gives the publication a real sense of self. She puts great care into all the minute details of the design, hiding little nuances that tie the entire feel of the magazine together. That sense of coherence you get as you turn from page to page is all down to her.
We take our namesake from The Slits song ‘Typical Girls’ (we’re always overjoyed when readers pick up on this detail). For us, their no bullshit attitude, and complete control over the work they were putting out, is a real inspiration. They went out on stage and acted in a way that society wasn’t used to. Here were three women who stood on the cover of an album, stark naked and covered in mud. In terms of subverting the male gaze that was revolutionary. It was so rare for women to stand in the nude, in a way that wasn’t sexualised or produced for a man. The Slits showed that you could be a woman and still be strong, independent, and not take shit from anyone.
In our third issue we got the chance to speak to Hollie Cook, who was part of the second generation of The Slits. Hollie’s first experience of touring was with The Slits. She spent many of her formative years under their wing. It was amazing to hear firsthand how the band shaped the musician, and woman, Hollie is today. You can really feel that their resonance withstands multiple generations. I’m sure it’s something that will continue to be passed on by Hollie, who in her own way refuses to make any compromises on her vision.
In terms of publishing, there are of course DIY zines. In our ethos we’re very much aligned with the idea that if you don’t see yourself being represented, you go and create something that does. Spare Rib, which was a second-wave feminist magazine, immediately comes to mind. But then, in that, I think it is necessary to acknowledge that feminism has not always been an inclusive space. In fact, many people, especially women of colour, trans women and sex workers, still feel alienated from the movement. It’s about trying to create something that is truly inclusive. Inclusivity is not instantly achievable, and as editors we are constantly challenged to work at it. We might not ever get the formula completely right, but with each new issue we can ask ourselves how we can be more open.
i-D, too, has always stood aside from the crowd. Whereas tokenising, and a lack of visibility, have been inherent problems within publishing, i-D has never adhered to this. The first person of colour to feature on the cover was as early as April 1983, when the Nigerian-born singer Sade graced the fourteenth issue. In issue 3 we got to speak to Lynette Nylander, the writer, editor and creative consultant who worked as Deputy Editor of i-D for 3 years, about how the publication shaped her experience of growing up as a young black girl in London. i-D made it possible for women like Lynette, and the editorial team behind TG, to realise that we could be a part of shaping the culture around us.
Today, publications like Riposte, Sister Magazine, OOMK, Orlando and Girls Club push us to be better. I love that so many independent publications are now going out and shaping the landscape of publishing to be a space of resistance.
It’s tricky growing up in a world which is so centred on technology. It is something we are all acutely aware of but it’s actually terrifying. Information is so fast paced and easily digestible that we don’t really need to take the time to sit back and think anymore. We’re told what to read, what to like, what to follow. I was part of the generation that spent the first decade of our lives largely offline. I didn’t have a smart phone until I was about 17, and didn’t have Facebook until my mid teens. I find it really concerning that young people are now being raised entirely on social media. There’s no escape from it. It penetrates every aspect of your life.
With that, how we consume our news has altered considerably. The rise of clickbait journalism and fake news has taken away the core of what we’re reading. I think people are increasingly realising this, and making a conscious decision to seek out platforms which provide honest, captivating, thought-out content. We take our time when producing TG. The 6 months between each issue prevents a fast pace of consumption.
In look and feel, TG is closer to a book than a magazine. It’s a really weighty publication (quite literally – it’s a heavy bugger). It asks you to take your time over it. Pour yourself a cup of tea and sit down in your favourite armchair. When people have a copy stored on their bookshelf, I always feel like that’s exactly where it should be. You could easily spend months perusing slowly through the pages. It’s not about being up to date with the latest fashion or news; it’s about slow journalism, which might be somewhat outdated by the time you get to it, but is more about the timeless value of people’s stories and experiences.
As we have grown and developed, so too has the breadth of the work on our pages. Issue 3, which is our biggest issue yet, is filled with life and colour. It is an offering, a love note, to all the incredible women who inspire us on a day to day basis. TG allows us to explore the many aspects that can, and do, encompass womanhood. It is our way of proving that there is no such thing as a ‘typical’ girl.
I think it’s about putting your money where your mouth is (as blunt as that may sound). We have a lot of power as consumers. If we invest our time, energy and interests, as well as our spare pennies, into publications and artists we believe in, they will be able to continue. If we demand, as consumers, that journalism is considered, and conscious, then publications will eventually have to listen.
The reality of publishing is that it’s a pricey industry. Funds that come in are quickly eaten by printing costs, and all the expenses that come along with running a small business. In order for independent publications to survive, they need to have readers who are invested in their livelihood. None of the people I know who run small print magazines make any money. They do it out of the necessity to contribute something worthwhile to the industry. Everyone involved tends to have full-time jobs on the side just to keep it going. We put our own money into TG, and don’t earn a cent. Our contributors, too, give their time for free out of a love of the publication. But it’s not an ideal situation by any standard. For creatives, making work is often the determinant of their livelihoods. It’s how they put food on the table.
We need to shift how we view the creative industries entirely, especially people who work outside of a commercial, corporate agenda. In today’s political climate there is little financial support available for independent artists. If we can consciously change how we, as consumers, spend money — buy an artist’s print instead of a wall hanging from a high street store — we can make small changes that have the potential to really impact someone’s life. The same goes for if you have a choice between a publication heavily filled with advertising, where 70% of the publication is marketing, and one that is independently run.
The aim in the future is to continue to grow and develop with the times. Hopefully collaborating more with publications we admire, and continuing to work to create a cohesive and supportive movement of independent publishing. We have lots of exciting new projects in the pipeline for the next year, to really push what defines TG as a publication, so watch this space…
by Rose Miyonga
Andrea Pippins is an artist, illustrator and designer from Washington, D. C., whose work seeks to inspire a generation of women. Her first book, I Love My Hair is a colouring book that invites people of all ages and colours to celebrate their hair for its unique beauty. Her second book, Becoming Me, is a glorious exploration of what it means to be a young woman of colour. It asks us to doodle, scribble and write our own investigation into ourselves.
I spoke to her about beauty, creative arts, and the importance of self-expression.
I spent my early years, from the age of six months to four years, in a sewing studio in the Georgetown neighbourhood of Washington, D.C. The studio was run by a French woman named Solange Cody and was occupied by a team of four women who spent their days constructing, hemming, and altering clothes. These ladies, except for one African American woman, were all immigrants—including my mother, who’s from Brazil. While my mother was sewing and fitting clothes, I would be drawing and colouring for hours. I believe that space planted the seeds for my own creativity; my love for textiles, patterns, and colour; and my desire to become an entrepreneur. But that all would come together much later.
I didn’t really know about graphic design until I saw Halle Berry playing the role of Angela in the film Boomerang. Angela was an art director and artist, and it was my first time seeing a woman of colour doing that kind of work. Even though it was fiction, it blew me away. But it wasn’t until I started applying for college that I really learnt about careers in graphic design, or what was then called commercial art or graphic art. I applied to Tyler School of Art at Temple University, and though it took several tries because of a lacklustre portfolio, I was finally accepted into the design program.
After working as a graphic designer at companies like Hallmark Cards and TV Land/Nick@Nite, I returned to Tyler and graduated with an MFA in Graphic and Interactive Design, so I could teach design at a college level. Eventually, I decided to take a leap of faith and pursue a path as a full-time freelance designer and illustrator. Currently, my work is transitioning from graphic design to a focus on art and illustration. I’ve always solved design problems with illustration, not realising that that is where my skills and talent flourish.
Aside from my mother, I would say the media heavily influence my perception of beauty. My mother had a subscription to Essence magazine, and I remember absorbing those pages filled with beautiful women. But I always saw it as a publication for adults. Where was the magazine featuring little girls who looked like me or had hair like me?
As a teen I loved Seventeen magazine, but honestly, at the time those pages didn’t show anyone who reflected me. So it was difficult to find style, hair, and makeup advice.
As a kid and teen I watched a lot of TV, and thank goodness it was during a time that black TV and film was doing so well. From TV shows like Living Single and A Different World to movies like Love Jones and Boomerang, I did have a lot of positive references that influenced my ideas of beauty. There could have been more, but having those showed me more of a range than what I see today.
I Love My Hair happened when I met an art director at Random House and sent her some ideas for a colouring book last spring, none of which had anything to do with hair. After looking at my artwork, she responded asking if I’d be interested in doing a colouring book about hair, and I said, “OMG, of course.” I didn’t have a specific plan of what to include, I just knew that I wanted it to be fun and that I wanted to show a wide range of hairstyles and ideas of hair. There were 84 pages to fill, so it was a creative challenge to figure out what would be interesting and what would work in terms of filling it with colour. Because “hair” is so specific, and because I didn’t want it to be just about hairstyles, I had to be creative in my interpretations. So I explored abstract representations, lettering, and accessories and tools related to hair.
I don’t know the numbers, so I can’t speak about the gap in the market for books celebrating women of colour, but I can speak about what stories are being celebrated and highlighted. I do think there is a gap in the kinds of stories that are told about women of colour, and a huge gap in what gets recognition, awarded, written about, etc. I assume that fewer of us get opportunities to write books, but also wonder if it’s really that fewer of us get recognized. Or a combination of both. Either way, it is frustrating.
Because of my family and community, I’ve always had a pretty strong sense of self. But in certain areas of my life, I can be a perfectionist, and at times this results in high expectations and me being hard on myself. In the last few years, I’ve learned to surrender, be easy, and give myself a break. This also means not working so much and allowing myself to just be.
I would tell twelve-year-old Andrea to always be herself. That who she is enough, and that life is too short, so to not take things too seriously.
I am a strong believer that image is power. Whether it’s in propaganda, a story being told, or an advertisement, an image really drives the message. The people behind media understand this and use images to tell how us how to see the world. And until we get people of colour behind the wheel as directors, producers, cinematographers, artists, and designers, we won’t be able to control how we are portrayed or the stories that are being told about us. In this way, we can give all people access to visual expression, which is important. The beauty, though, is that we live in a time when the tools to create images and tell stories are readily available. And people are taking advantage of it. We can already see how the media is shifting because of that access.
But on a micro level, being able to understand what you see is just as important as being able to read. So regardless of your level of interest in art and design, you need to be able to interpret the millions of messages being thrown at you everyday. You need to be able to decipher and question the intent behind an image. And with the arts being eliminated from our school programs, people aren’t developing that skill.
Having access to the visual arts is about self-expression AND developing a form of literacy.
My favourite artists are also people who inspire me, such as Emory Douglas, Kerry James Marshall, Sister Corita Kent, Frida Kahlo, Malick Sidibe, and Nina Chanel Abney, among many others.
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Featured image by Danielle Finney, all other images courtesy of Andrea Pippins
By Oyin Akande
We are celebrating and you should be too. On Friday 21st, celebrated Nigerian writer and feminist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie was announced as the commercial face of the new Boots No.7 campaign.
Chimamanda, who already has several critically acclaimed novels under her belt, TED talks viewed by millions and millions and a phenomenal cult following that includes Beyoncé, Zadie Smith, Dior and something like the entire population of Sweden, has just taken on the redefinition of the beauty industry.
What is really great is what this means for you. As the face of a huge beauty campaign, Chimamanda makes accessible the rosy and impossible fantasy of the beauty industry:
“I think much of beauty advertising relies on a false premise – that women need to be treated in an infantile way, given a ‘fantasy’ to aspire to… Real women are already inspired by other real women, so perhaps beauty advertising needs to get on board”, Chimamanda told Vogue in the November 2016 issue which is downloadable here. She challenges the ill-conceived unattainability of women represented in beauty campaigns, which leave the majority of women unrepresented and unable to relate. She has quite literally opened up the possibility that you- someone real- could be the next face of beauty.
What we really love though is that she has opened up a very public dialogue with feminism and make-up, two things long believed to be at odds. Where make-up has wrongly been understood to be a tool to hide yourself, Chimamanda is reclaiming it as a tool of precise autonomy over who you are and who you present to the world. Days before the campaign was announced, Chimamanda released an amazing feminist manifesto ‘Dear Ijeawele’, which you can view via her Facebook page. The campaign merges the voice of contemporary feminism with the face of a real woman and we love it.
Six years old, at my mother’s wonderfully cluttered dressing table in Nsukka, trying on her very sticky lip gloss.
I am in a good mood; I am fit and exercising regularly; I am wearing stable high heels; I have managed to do a flawless ‘cat-eye.’
She moisturized her entire body very diligently. Ashy skin was unacceptable. I remember watching her after her bath, how she would reach across her shoulder, hand coated in cream, to get as much of her back as she could. She liked perfumes. There were heady scents in her bedroom. I remember the green POISON, the fawn CHLOE. She wore perfume to sleep. There was nail polish, powder compacts, eye pencils. She always wore tasteful makeup. My mother is one of the most beautiful people I know, and I thought so even as a child.
It’s become an absolute delight. I was once interested only in the most minimal makeup – colorless mascara, that sort of thing – but became more interested in make-up when I started using it to try and look a little older. I was so tired of being told I looked like a child. Now, I like to try new things, and I like the temporary transformation that make-up can bring.
Yes. “Nekene nne unu,” he would say – “look at your mother!’ – when my mother was all dressed for church on Sunday mornings, sequinned george wrapper on her waist, a sparkly blouse, a beautifully-structured gele on her head. She knew he thought she was beautiful, you could tell.
I once decided I wanted a funky afro. So I colored my hair in my bathroom, with three different color kits because the first two didn’t quite show. The result was orange hair. But what brought despair was how dry and brittle my hair became.
A good facial moisturiser.
In a narrow train toilet, although that was less crazy and more uncomfortable.
A greater range of colors (and undertones) in foundations and tinted moisturisers. A greater awareness that dark-skinned women have enormous buying power and are as much interested in beauty as anyone else.
Some years ago in my hometown. It was very hot, I’d been outside for a while, and suddenly felt a gooey heaviness around my eyes.
Buy Boots’ No.7 products here.