Jasmin Sproule proudly describes herself as a working-class artist from the Midlands. Her artwork is dynamic and confident, much like her artist statement. In her conversation with Orla Sprosen, Jas spoke about her resources and inspirations as well as risks taken in her practice that do and do not pay off…

Talk to me about your key references and focuses. How do they relate to this project?

I did a Union Jack for my degree show, and I’m really interested in how ideology is made, so I look at history — especially how basic patterns, prints, and objects enforce that regime and ideology-making. With the flag, you can’t get more blatant.

Right now, I’m focusing on how everything’s made rather than what it could be. I feel like, at the minute, everyone is just living in nihilism! Also, once I get stuck on a subject, I’m obsessed for months on end. Especially after I left uni, I got obsessed with nihilism, which is quite depressing, but that’s just what happened. I listen to this podcast called Rev Left Radio and they were talking about [nihilism] and how in our generation this is what pushes young men to the far right because it’s an escape from nihilism…

…Anyway, I don’t know how I’ve gone down this rabbit hole. Basically, I’m obsessed with regimes, nihilism, and focusing on the past. I thought of all these different issues. My practice is so focused on how we’re here and why we’re here. There’s no way for me to look towards the ‘what next’. It’s also very material- and process-focused: things work out as they happen.

So I thought, if I change my material completely, then the process will kind of follow. I went for bio-plastics because, for me, that’s the next thing; that is futuristic material.

So would you say you’re currently using futurist aesthetics?

That was my plan for this one, but I don’t usually. I use everyday imagery and, like I say, the process that comes from the making is normally how I find the aesthetic. Say with gelatin, when it goes that weird yellowy see-through colour, I’d more want to lean into that than kind of force my own hand to it. I wouldn’t say I go out of my way to make my work see-through. It’s more working with what I have.

I completely get that. It’s like you’re playing ‘god’ to a certain degree: you have the agency where you initiate it, but wherever it goes after that is just where it goes. So what are the challenges with bio-plastics?

It’s gone so mouldy, man! Everything got destroyed. There’s red mould, which I’ve never actually seen before. It’s so bright… it’s really interesting. It was a massive piece, because originally I was thinking, ‘What if I did (bio-plastic) plastic bags?’ I had this massive sheet of bio-plastic which started going mouldy in my kitchen, so I thought I was going to have to put it outside. It was, like, covered… I mean, it looked beaut, but I’m quite scared to touch it now. It takes time for the mould to grow as well, so I won’t know if something’s worked out for two weeks. I had to come up with a backup.

Okay, talk to me about the backup…

Knitting. I really like textiles and I love knitting anyway therapeutically. I got one of the domestic knit machines, and I really got into knitting history, especially in the Midlands. You’ve got it in Nottingham and lace, but Leicester is known for its yarns and wools. We also had a lot of knitting factories, so domestic knit machines were everywhere [later on]. I thought I’d carry on with the flags, but I’ll do them a little bit differently.

Obviously, before this project, there were all the ‘flag-shaggers’ and the Saint George’s crosses. I live in a little village — it’s a Reform village. We’ve got a roundabout in front of our house, and it’s covered in Saint George flags. I’d say me and my family are quite left-wing, so when you have all that in front of your house… So I think, in hindsight, it’s more fitting to go back to those flags in that way.

The Saint George flag is different from the Union Jack, I think. The Union Jack has a chicness to it and a bitchiness. You can also make it dead camp. I think of Geri from the Spice Girls and the Gucci dress, and Rimmel London’s campaign that had the Union Jack as their eyeshadow compartments. The Saint George, in my mind, is more hyper-masculine — all football, nationalist — because it’s England, not Great Britain.

So, how is the knitting process coming along?

I was planning on doing four flags, but now it’s going to be two. One is already done, and the base for the other is done; I just need to embroider on top now. The other two will have to come afterwards and not be part of the show. It’s unfortunate, but maybe I can show them together somewhere else at another time. I’m just stuck on flags at the minute. I think it’s going to take me a while to get this out of my system.

We all need something to be stuck on though! You’re also in the right sort of job; you can think about flags all you want if you’re an artist…

Jas presenting her work during Surface’s Artist Talks

So what’s your practice going to look like after this residency?

I don’t know what will happen, but ideally I’m going to be doing art as much as I want and as much as I can afford. I’ll probably, like I said, carry on with SGs because I’m in the momentum of it and I have the materials. I don’t just want to do flags — I’m trying to work with other textiles. I use my hair. I like using everyday imagery and everyday materials. Accessibility is very important, and my practice is based on the British class system, femininity, and working-class girls. These things are in everything.

Like I said, it’s more process-based, and if I start noticing something more and more… It happened with the Union Jacks, and it was the same with makeup wipes, reduce stickers. So far: knitting, hair, flags… maybe bio-plastics? I’ll get there.

How was your experience with art school and the reception of your work there?

I had a really good experience with art school, and I have always wanted to go. If I could stay in education all my life, would I? I probably would. I just love learning things and being in uni. I did an arts foundation in Manchester and then did my degree in London, so I went from up north to down south. It was a massive culture shock… Honestly, being in Kingston — now I can see it has informed my practice massively. This was the first time I saw class play out in real time. It was this boiling pot of class. I came from a tiny village in the middle of nowhere. I think it made me reflect on other things when it became so explicit.

“I like using everyday imagery and everyday materials. Accessibility is very important, and my practice is based on the British class system, femininity, and working-class girls. These things are in everything.”

You’re back in Leicester — can you see yourself returning to London in the future?

Being an artist, specifically in the Midlands now, I don’t have any interest in going to London. I never thought I’d be like that. I had that ‘London girl’ dream, but I just don’t care for it now! There are waiting lists for volunteer roles in galleries! You can’t even volunteer anywhere to get your foot in the door. It’s mental. It’s supposed to be the place with all the opportunities in art — it’s really not.

I’ve come here, and I’m already volunteering in a gallery, I’ve been meeting people, and I’ve been offered a few gigs, like this residency. I want to be part of a movement of artists and creatives who help decentralise this whole London-centric creative scene. These cogs started turning, and I was sitting in the realisation of the actual, physical, material opportunities. There’s a lot to apply for in London, but you don’t get it.

So how have these realisations changed your relationship with the Midlands?

I feel like I’m re-falling in love with the Midlands in a different way. I used to love the village because it was quiet, and I’d go drink in the pub. If someone asks me now, I just say I’m from the Midlands — I’m half an hour from Leicester, Loughborough, Birmingham, Nottingham, Derby. I just want to be part of artists, writers, musicians from the Midlands: the art from the Midlands. You know the saying, ‘bring your class up with you?’ I don’t want to be someone who sells their art for a few thousand pounds and then thinks, ‘What am I going to do now that I’ve made my fortune? Move to Surrey.’

I get that. It shouldn’t have to be this Cinderella story where you ‘got out of there’. It shouldn’t be a sacrifice of where you’ve come from and what that stands for.

Interview by Orla Sprosen.

You can find out more about Jasmin Sproule’s work on Instagram (@jas.sproule.art) and on her website.

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