The piece remembers the tragedy of Grenfell and the fire that occurred in June 2017 and pays tribute to Khadija Saye, an artist who lived in the tower and died there along with her mother, Mary Mendy.
I knew that I wanted to make a work that would say 'remember this'. And it needed to be direct in the way that it treated the subject matter. So I broke it down into three parts, three walls, three separate drawings that somehow would come together to read as one complete work.
I conceive of the bowing figure on the left, which is the first chapter of the mural as a witness, and he is presenting Grenfell Tower burning with the reverence of someone that’s conducting a ceremony of loss or a Requiem. Carefully and with respect and with emotion, which is released in his tears falling into a river or an ocean that's accumulating below him of despair. I see it as a tender, trembling, respectful and dutiful act that he's performing. And from there I visualised the spirits of souls that move away from the tower and escaping.
The second chapter of the mural focuses on portraying Khadija Saye who's the artist that I met and who was killed in in Grenfell Tower. And this image is taken directly from one of her self-portraits that Khadija was exhibiting in Venice in the Diaspora Pavilion at the same time that I met her in 2017.
I was coming back from a trip to Venice after doing another exhibition there and we passed the remains of the Grenfell Tower wrapped. And it wasn't the first time that I'd seen it, but before I always found that I always looked away instinctively quite soon after looking at it. But this time I became quite self-conscious of that so I decided that I was going to continue looking. And my memories of first meeting Khadija in Venice in 2017, shortly before she was killed in the fire in June, came flooding back in and started to crystallise into my thoughts. And you know, these thoughts of like just utter discomfort, almost physical feelings of looking at something and being reminded of something that was really, really terrible. All those feelings started to surface in my mind and I felt that the luxury of being able to indulge at looking at something, then being able to look away - that luxury was no longer tenable. That I actually had to start to face up to that discomfort.
So I would say it was precisely in those moments of looking that the subject matter of the mural fell into place. I felt that I could grab on to the idea that the mural could reflect what had happened in Grenfell. But it did make me realise that in order for something like that to never happen again, we have to be reminded that it did.
Public art can hold spaces of grief and it can keep alive collective memories of events that might otherwise completely just fade away in time, just as life inevitably moves on.
So the body of water which flows across the entire mural is a way of linking Venice and London and a way of symbolising the shared connection I had with Khadija and somehow is trying to honour this brief meeting and the power or energy or charisma that I felt about her and unfortunately now has just become an emotional memory for me, and I suppose a kind of collective grief around her loss as an individual and as an artist. In the self-portrait she's holding a vessel up to her ear. And it's a Gambian incense pot, which is traditionally used to drive away evil spirits from the home. And it's a precious object that honours her dual faith heritage of Christianity and Islam. And I suppose because of that it's charged with personal meaning.
In the central section the spirits of souls kind of come together as an energy force. And they’re drawn to and converge around this source of radiance or magnetism with Khadija's image at its centre.
So moving then into the third chapter of the mural, you see the spirit of souls drawn towards a more Edenic landscape of hope, redemption, and hopefully extraordinary peace. And you see the colours of the burning tower are transformed into those of a warm sunrise or sunset. And all the way on the right-hand side there's a purple tree and this manifold spirit of souls start to converge and settle in and around this flowering tree-like shrub which is based on a plant called the cyanothus which grows in a garden that is dedicated to Khadija's memory. And then underneath the tree you've got this singular - but in my imagination, I imagine many – mythical faun-like creatures lying and resting in the shade of that tree playing music. And that sound or that melody drifting across the water and the horizon, almost calling the spirit of souls into a place of peace.
When I talk about the piece now and picture it and look at it, I feel that an important part is this horizon that runs all the way across. And it's a device, I suppose, an artistic device, to create a boundary that divides the sky from the water, but also separates the earth and, I would say, realms beyond earth. And as a whole, I intended the mural to invite reflection on loss, spirituality and transformation. And particularly these elements are important to me today in 2023, as we are waiting for the final report of the Grenfell inquiry to be published and campaigners fight for its Phase one recommendations to be implemented. And as the criminal investigation into the fire's deadly spread is still ongoing.
I think I hope that the fact that it's painted directly on the walls of a public museum will allow it to speak across time in a very direct way. And I think it's important that in some ways that this work isn't something that's transportable. And the impact of the life of it on the walls will remain and will pass through people's minds and memories. And I’ve had to go through, and the different waves of emotions that I've gone through in researching and putting the image together were sometimes extremely tearful and very difficult and contradictory and I wouldn't really discount any reaction that anyone might have to the mural. But I do hope that it will give the viewer an opportunity to really look and feel and be aware of their emotional responses – anger, sadness and any other emotion is valid and relevant. Emotions change and opinions change over time, but this work will stay the same. And I hope that it prompts a collective paying attention of a devastating historical event.