For this episode, we met Thomas Radin in his studio in West Berlin. In his work, painting, dance, and performance merge symbiotically. We spoke with the multidisciplinary artist about the creative scene and the contrasts between the freedom and experimental opportunities he finds in Berlin.
Voo: How would you describe your style or signature in your art? What makes your work – you?
Thomias Radin: The overall concept of my work is based on movements — physical, psychological, and cultural. I use dance, performance, painting, wood sculpture, and film as my mediums.
V: You grew up in France?
T: I was born in the Caribbean, in Guadeloupe, but I grew up in Paris. I then went to study in Rennes, Bretagne, where I completed my bachelor’s and master’s degrees. In 2017, I moved to Berlin.
V: What is it like being an artist living in Berlin? Is it a different art scene?
T: Working in Berlin has been a great experience for me. Moving here was a good decision. Berlin is more experimental and more open to innovative and experimental approaches. Berlin gives me the opportunity to express myself more freely. The crowd here is willing to accept and trying new format. Compared to France which I think is a bit more conservative regarding the art scene.
V: Is it more accessible?
T: Somehow, yes. From my personal experience, people always reached out to me because they saw my work somewhere and enjoyed it. I never needed to do any forced networking to get something. Everything went very organically for me.
V: With the abundance of galleries in Berlin, do you feel any pressure?
T: Not really, I apply pressure to myself in the studio, with the purpose to do better every time, but I never compare myself to anybody. What I do is so specific.The mix between painting, dance, film and wood sculpture. I just follow my research process.
V: You are working a lot with textiles?
T: Yes, I collect fabrics over the years, and assemble them to design my performance outfits or to include them into paintings. But the presence of textile in the painting is still very minimal.
V: So it’s kind of a patchwork.
T: Yes, exactly – a patchwork. There's a small strip of color here. I like to include Madras, the traditional fabric of Guadeloupe, which actually comes from India, as well as fabrics from Nigeria, Mali, or those found in textile shops in Berlin. This patchwork of textiles also mirrors the cultural patchwork I grew up with, between Guadeloupe and France. In Guadeloupe, even in the '90s, I was surrounded by Haitian, Lebanese, and Chinese communities that have been on the islands for more than a century. Then, in France, I grew up around large West African and Arabic communities.
V: Do you also design?
T: I've done some work for a fashion brand and set design, but it's always been on the side. At university, I studied interior design. Somehow, from the beginning, I always had a connection with fashion, but it never quite reached the level where I wanted to dive deep into it. I've done a lot of movement direction in the last year. For instance, last year, I directed the movement for the Kenzo x ODDA magazine editorial in collaboration with the photographer NTi. It's not something I aim to put at the forefront of my work; I just enjoy doing it.
V: Can you describe your typical work routine?
T: My typical routine is: I wake up around 7/7:30 am, then go to calisthenics, have breakfast, and work in the studio until the evening. During the week, I also practice my dance skills and do research. I then spend time with my lovely son.
Regarding painting, it mostly starts with a mental image or flash in my mind, triggered by my daily life, political subject matter, spirituality, or movement. My paintings always start with abstraction. There is no figure in the beginning. Then, based on what the colours evoke for me, I build up the composition of the painting. That's why I don’t pre sketch my paintings . I want to discover it while doing it. I have a very intuitive way of painting.
V: How come?
T: My style is really like a painter with the mind of a dancer, coming from hip hop. Often, people misunderstand improvisation as just doing random , but it's not. It's a profound way to express yourself. When you dance, you start with the music, but you have no idea what the music will be. Yet, you have a foundation, a set of techniques you can rely on to create something spontaneously. It's about trusting yourself, your instincts, and your creative process. Also, I don't sketch because I don't like to know what the outcome will be. I kind of hate this idea to know. I try to surprise myself constantly, which is a bit of a weird thing. You play chess with yourself. So sometimes it's a lot of silence and observation in the studio.
V: When do you know a painting is finished?
T: Thats a feeling. When I think a painting is done, I let it hang somewhere in the studio. There's this initial satisfaction you get through when you've just created something – it's like a proud parent moment, you know? But then, I try to surpass that initial feeling. If I find myself getting bored of the work after weeks or months, it means that the work is not solid enough. So what I do, I let the painting hang around and sometimes I hide it and When I revisit the painting, and still feel that same satisfaction, then it's good. if not going out of the studio.
V: And then what would you do? Would you start to edit or would you completely do a new one and leave the painting?
T: It depends. Sometimes I will continue until I destroy it. Other times, I’ll just leave it as it is. Recently, I was chatting with a friend about how artists often experience anxiety in the studio when it comes to creativity. Everything I produce in the studio is not meant to be something. I do purposeless things sometimes. There are so many ideas and not all of them are genius. You need to let them go sometimes. That’s how I keep a healthy relationship with my work.
V: What is the connection between your work and the broader cultural or societal contexts in which it is situated?
T: The way my work operates is mostly as a constellation or as we say, a cosmogony. Cosmogony is the idea of mythology or stories who are correlated to each other. That’s my way to keep the movement alive in
my work.
I do performances and film them. Then, I study the footage because most of my performances involve a blend of guided choreography and improvisation. I don’t always remember exactly what I did. As I analyse the video, I search for movements that are strong and meaningful, which I can then extract, reconstruct, and decontextualise. Some movement also comes from friends, they are also dancers. I like to say that movement is the first language of human being before word. I do lot of ethnographic and also anthropological studies, too.
That’s why I say my painting is a portrait of situation. It’s okay if someone sees them exhibited and doesn’t immediately understand what they’re about; that’s also part of the idea behind the work. The approach may lean towards being more conceptual because you need to have some kind of knowledge, but there are hints — you might notice the French flag or catch some Creole if you’re familiar with it.
V: When you put it more in context?
T: That's what I was saying in an interview not so long ago. I'm not a journalist; I'm an artist. I deal with political subject matter but still apply care to aesthetics, forms, and a sense of strength and beauty in the work. For most of my narratives, I lean towards creating a balance between the conceptual depth and the aesthetics of the work.
Voo Visits is a series introducing new and old friends of Voo, like-minded creatives and people from Berlin who inspire us.