Ten Questions with Lydia Roberts

Lydia Roberts is a British artist and photographer whose work moves between photography, painting and drawing.

There’s a dreamlike quality to her photographs - bodies, light and familiar places become slightly ambiguous, as though you’re looking at something half remembered rather than something directly observed.

I’ve admired Lydia’s work for some time, particularly the way she seems less interested in documenting what something looks like and more interested in what it feels like.

For the second in our Ten Questions series, I wanted to ask Lydia about instinct, memory, making images that resist time, and what happens when photography and painting begin to inform one another.

1.

You've spoken about wanting to make images that feel unaffected by time. What is it about a photograph being recognisably now that you find yourself wanting to escape from?

It’s the signage, the cars, the smart watches, the AirPods. All of these seem so ugly to me. Perhaps they make our lives more ‘convenient’, but visually, they distract from what I’m actually interested in — the people or the environment.

2.

The human form appears constantly in your work, but often partially - obscured, reflected, cropped or almost disappearing into the image. Are you interested in the person themselves, or more in what the body can become within a picture?

I’m more interested in surprising myself! I think when I’m shooting a person, objects, light, reflective surfaces, etc., can all join forces and create something unexpected. Of course, there are certain faces that demand, for whatever reason, to be seen in their full glory. But I’m all about feeding curiosity.

3.

You've described being fascinated by light since childhood - even looking directly into the sun to experience the colours and shapes it created. Do you think you're still trying to recreate that feeling when you make photographs now?

Well, I try not to stare into the sun too much these days. (Apart from the solar eclipse the other week. I panicked at all the articles popping up on my feed about going permanently blind, but I seem to be ok!?) Light has become a little more mechanical now, at least my understanding of natural light. So I’m trying to force myself into new situations with light, like shooting at night or with very little light. It’s so easy to get stuck on something you know.

4.

Your photographs often seem to sit somewhere between something witnessed and something remembered. How important is memory to the way you see?

I don’t consciously think about memory as I’m shooting. The way I see feels more in line with witnessing. I like the idea that I’m noticing something in this moment that will later turn into a memory. But really, I’m mostly wrapped up in the image, and what it looks like.

5.

You work across photography, painting and drawing. Has painting changed the photographs you make - perhaps allowing you to become less concerned with what a photograph is supposed to look like?

Perhaps yes. I’m always thinking in terms of images — what makes a good one. I rarely think about what a photograph is supposed to look like — in fact, I’m not sure I have ever thought about that! From a technical standpoint, if someone were to inspect my work or the way I work — they’d probably find many flaws and incongruencies. But it’s the final image that counts, that’s what we are left to look at.

6.

There's often something deliberately unresolved in your pictures - reflections, movement, things seen through glass, moments where you're not quite sure what you're looking at. What interests you about withholding information from the viewer?

Probably because I’m not so sure what I’m looking at myself! Sometimes when I’m looking through my images after I’ve taken them, I’m genuinely shocked because I have no idea what I’m looking at. So it’s not necessarily an intentional withholding.

On the other hand, there are times when I’ll use these devices to deliberately block the viewer — why, I’m not always sure! I’d probably have to lie down on a couch to find out.

7.

You live and work in the South of France, away from the constant activity of a major art or fashion city. Do you think living somewhere quieter has changed what you notice - or perhaps protected the way you work?

Yeah, I’m essentially living in a wad of bubblewrap here. Every now and then I have to go pop myself in London or Paris, but honestly, I’m much happier here. I’d say 98% of my attention can go into the work itself, and 2% (or probably more, actually) sadly gets diluted by platforms like Instagram.

8.

You've said that you're always observing, even when you don't have a camera. Do you think being a photographer eventually changes your relationship with ordinary life - that you begin collecting pictures in your head even when you aren't making them?

Yes, I wish I was told that before I started! There should be some sort of warning.

As for collecting images, I’m not so sure it’s that — but more a kind of surveillance. I tend to fixate on faces or tiny details and, by just looking, sometimes that’s enough. It could emerge in a photo 10 years later!

9.

Your work has crossed into publications, fashion, album artwork and commercial commissions without losing its identity. When somebody is paying you to make an image, how do you protect the instinctive part of your work from becoming too considered?

Honestly, it’s not so often that I get paid to make images! It’s not my full-time job. But, when I do, I don’t change anything about the way that I shoot. Of course, I respond to a brief and that’s different from my normal way of working — but it allows me to exercise my imagination and come up with ideas. Which, actually, I don’t feel like I do day to day. It’s normally about documenting what is already there. I have nearly 20 years of making images behind me now, so my creative instinct has had enough time to form and be ready to go in whatever circumstance I find myself in. That’s quite a wonderful feeling, actually.

10.

You've been making photographs since you were a teenager. After spending that long looking, what are you trying to become less interested in as an artist?

Less interested in what people I don’t know are doing on Instagram.