The Stories We See: The Power of Portraiture

Bindi Vora (BV): The new exhibition, A Thousand Small Stories, brings together three decades of your photographs, with some of the earliest works from the mid-nineties. Where did your connection to photography begin?

Eileen Perrier (EP): Photography has shaped my understanding of identity, history, and representation. My connection began at Weald College, where I initially took A-Levels in Physics, Chemistry and Biology, thinking I might go into a medical field. However, I soon realised that I didn’t have enough groundwork for these subjects and ended up dropping all three. Instead, I chose to pursue AS levels in Human Biology, Fine Art and a City & Guilds qualification in Photography and Dress Making.

I really loved photography. I could spend hours in the darkroom, using photographic chemicals, processing films, using the enlarger and graded filters to work out the exposure with test strips, to producing sepia toned prints or photograms. It involved all the subjects I was interested in, combining elements of science with creativity. I also had great teachers and mentors, which helped. Around this time, I came across the work of Armet Francis through his book The Black Triangle: People of the African Diaspora – the image on the cover was powerful and I found it very inspiring. Whilst working in Camden I inadvertently bumped into Francis outside the station. After this encounter I would visit him at his studio and show him the work I was doing. In a way, he became my first mentor, providing encouraging words and introducing me to the work of important people and places, including Autograph.

Following sixth form college I went on to undertake a BA Photography degree at The Surrey Institute of Art and Design (now the University for the Creative Arts), where key figures in documentary photography taught including: Peter Hall, Martin Parr, Anna Fox, Keith Arnett, David Bates, David Moore and Peter Kennard. Their work and approach to image making allowed me to think about photography in a more conceptual way.

Without photography, I wonder how my life would have turned out - perhaps I would have become a nurse. Photography gave me a new perspective on my identity. It allowed me to enter spaces I might not have had the privilege of accessing as a young Black woman.

BV: Portraiture is a loaded term, as it has so many connotations. Throughout your series, you have always engaged with portraiture from the perspectives of personhood and community. What does this practice mean to you today?

EP: Images are powerful, they convey so much. Portraiture is about people, but there are of course issues around the practice. Prior to doing my degree course, I was documenting my surroundings in a more detached way; I took pictures of people on the street, and events like Notting Hill Carnival. But I was beginning to question how people like me were represented in the media. In the UK we weren’t seeing many positive role models – Black families featured in TV shows like Desmond’s, The Real McCoy and Eastenders but they were few and far between and my memories mainly came from the US, through sitcoms like The Crosby Show, Diff’rent Strokes and Fresh Prince of Bel Air.

A critical shift in my work took place when I discovered two seminal compendiums produced by Ten.8 photography magazine: Critical Decade: Black British Photography in the 80s and Bodies of Excess: Photography and the Body (both published 1992). The work in these publications affirmed for me the need to develop work that challenged the norms and shone light on the Black British art scene as distinct from the Black African American experience. I appreciated Francis’s work even more as the first Black British photographer to showcase work at The Photographers’ Gallery, and it’s why Autograph’s foundation in 1988 felt so important.

So I began to turn the camera onto my family and my experiences. In 1995 I visited Ghana with my mother, and documented the trip through photographic portraits. It was my mother’s first return home in over 30 years and the trip was deeply meaningful for the both of us. In 1996 I received my first commission from Autograph to develop the series Red, Gold and Green, depicting members from my extended family in their front rooms. The process of turning the lens onto my family and exploring deeply personal issues made me see how photography could be used in a different way. At times I didn’t fully understand what I was trying to convey, but I knew it was important.

Reflecting on what this medium means to me today, I’ve come to realise that photography continues to have significance, particularly when the identity of the photographer speaks to contemporary issues that can shift the narrative around what is seen and represented. Progress is slow, and each time it feels we have moved forward we end up taking two steps back. George Floyd’s death in 2020 and the Covid-19 lockdown changed things. It’s uncomfortable knowing that the shift had to come yet again from a place of resistance and tragedy, a recurrent narrative that artists from diverse backgrounds were fighting against in the 1980s.

BV: Your affinity to connect with young people – and those particularly interested in creative modes of storytelling – has always been inspiring. As my former tutor at university, I found our conversations to be particularly formative. How does your practice as an educator intersect with your practice as a photographer?

EP: I have worked in higher education now for 20 years. Teaching has changed my perspective. I now find myself looking at work beyond my own field, drawing from a wide range of references – especially when giving feedback to students. I currently teach first-year students on the MA Photojournalism and Documentary Photography course at UAL, and I find great inspiration in how much their practice develops through the course. I’ve been fortunate to teach and/or witness the careers of talented alumni – including yourself, Aida Silvestri, Silvia Rosi, Dean Mullings and Sunil Shah, to name just a few.

Alongside my role as a tutor, I have also run workshops with and for different community groups through learning and outreach programmes. I’ve been involved with programmes like Autograph and UAL’s Common Ground – where the goal is to make higher education more accessible to all who can benefit from it, regardless of background. For me, these projects often presented rare opportunities to work with Black tutors and artists: usually, I would be the minority in a predominantly white space. Working alongside Faisal Abdu’Allah, Othello De’souza-Hartley and in recent times D Wiafe has been inspiring. It is interesting and important to work outside of the university setting with groups that might not otherwise engage with the arts.

BV: The politics of hair and beauty has been a recurring theme in your work, particularly in series like Afro Hair and Beauty Show and Blessing. Where does your desire to document hair and its role in the politics of Black identity originate?

EP: For Black artists such as myself, there often seems to come a point in their work where they explore hair. In many ways, the people I photographed for the Afro Hair and Beauty Show series reflected the styles and cultural importance of hair that I had grown up around. Hair has long been an essential aspect of self-expression and identity within the Black community and the symbolism of hair and how it’s evolved over the years resonates with me. I’ve been fascinated by the role that afro hair has played in the works of artists such as Lorna Simpson and Sonia Boyce, and writers like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. I think the impact of social media has changed how afro hair is perceived, and it’s been empowering for many people. I hope that the work I have produced around this subject matter can be part of a legacy which shows the continued pride that my community takes in their appearance.

However by the time I produced the series Grace in 2000, I felt compelled to step away from exploring my family and the Black experience solely through themes of hair and identity. Grace was still about diversity, but it expanded the conversation beyond race. It’s interesting that, today, discussions around representation have evolved, with increasing diversity in mainstream media. Grace touched on this – highlighting individuals who don’t fit conventional norms – with a focus on diastema (the gap between the two front teeth). This work pushed me to see if people outside my immediate circles would be willing to be photographed. I placed an advert in Loot newspaper, and a call for sitters was plugged by British chef and broadcaster Andi Oliver who sat for the series and promoted it on her BBC Radio London show. This promotion was a game-changer and attracted further people to come forward, allowing me to explore collaboration beyond friends, family, and street encounters. The series is named after my mum, Grace, who features in the work. I’m really glad my mum was able to visit the Royal College of Art while I was studying, as this was the last photograph I took of her before she unexpectedly passed away.

BV: Who inspires you and the work you make?

EP: Some of my earliest works like Ghana or Red, Gold and Green, were unconsciously influenced by family albums. Later, I drew inspiration from photographers like Samuel Fosso, Dawoud Bey, Gordon Parks and J.D. ‘Okhai Ojeikere.

During my studies, I loved visiting the ICA bookshop - it was a portal to writers rarely discussed at art college such as Stuart Hall, Kobena Mercer or Frantz Fanon. I devoured books by bell hooks, Alice Walker, and Maya Angelou. Discovering Autograph and Iniva was a turning point for me. Artists like Joy Gregory, Clement Cooper, Ingrid Pollard, Franklyn Rodgers, Dave Lewis and Yinka Shonibare were inspiring. Magazines like i-D, The Face, Vogue then later Tank and Dazed magazine were hugely influential. Archival images found in Life, Picture Post, Reportage magazine and publications like Creative Camera/Depict, Portfolio Magazine, British Journal of Photography and Source Magazine all continue to remain valuable references for me and my students.

After my first monograph was published by Autograph in the late 1990s, I met curator, Simon Njami and through him I was introduced to Revue Noire and a broader spectrum of artists, particularly from Francophone Africa. When I received a grant from the British Council in 2001 to travel to the Bamako Encounters African Biennale of Photography in Mali and subsequently won the Seydou Keita Award for my Red, Gold and Green series it was significant not only in terms of travelling to west Africa but seeing the work of African photographers in their local contexts.

BV: The concept of the studio plays a significant role in your practice. I have always enjoyed the way you create makeshift studios, carefully revealing partial glimpses of the sitters’ surroundings. Red, Gold, and Green, for example, becomes an important lesson in improvisation. How does the idea of the studio manifest in your practice?

EP: An important influence for me was my mum’s experience of having photographs taken by professional photographers in Ghana and then continuing this tradition when she moved to the UK where she would visit the local high-street studio. With Red, Gold, and Green,, I originally didn’t want the portraits to just be taken in people’s front rooms. I wanted them to come to my studio at university, but since they couldn’t, I had to bring the studio to them. When I arrived, the sitters were dressed in their ‘house clothes’, but they would change once I arrived. It became an opportunity for them to get dressed up and have their portrait taken. The use of red, gold, and green fabrics as backdrops symbolised the importance of heritage – representing Ghana’s national colours – while also reflecting the evolving nature of family ties beyond the Ghanaian community. Some of the sitters include individuals of mixed-heritage backgrounds or whose grandchildren are of mixed heritage, highlighting how identities continue to shift and expand across generations.

So yes, improvisation was key to Red, Gold and Green as well as other works like Quiet Pioneers (2004) which marked the 40th anniversary of Notting Hill Carnival, where I used metallic door streamers as backdrops to reference carnival. A staged setup – whether that’s the red seating you see in Nation (1999), or an improvised backdrop created for Peckham Square Studio (2014) – visually isolates the individual, freezing them in time. Yet, as a series, these moments come together to form a collective narrative. Controlling the setup has enabled me to engage with each person. Sometimes, it’s the brief conversations that happens during the sitting, or it might be the silent exchanges that take place through body language that make the work meaningful. I’m still amazed that strangers agree to be photographed or even step forward to participate in a personal project, allowing these moments to be shared with a wider audience, transforming them into works of art.

BV: Could you describe the pivotal shift in your work to colour photography?

EP: Colour became central to my work following my trip to Ghana in the mid 1990s. Up to this point, my understanding of west Africa was predominantly informed by photographs mainly produced by charities, that were usually shot in black and white, or works that were produced by reportage photographers, depicting war and other distressing scenes. But my experience in Ghana showed me a different way of life, and I wanted the images I was making to be vibrant and different to what was being depicted in the media.

BV: You’ve become renowned for probing the convention of the photographic portrait, striving to consider who is represented and written into history. Reflecting on 30 years of work, what does legacy mean to you?

EP: I am very grateful that my tutors and later curators recognised the significance of Ghana, Red, Gold and Green and the Afro Hair and Beauty Show series, especially since the original monograph in which these series featured contained no text. At the time, I wanted the work to stand on its own visual merit. Being neurodivergent, with diagnoses of dyslexia and ADHD, I found it challenging to articulate in words what I was trying to convey through my images. Over the years, engaging in artist talks and working in higher education have helped me develop the language to express these ideas.

I never imagined I’d have a career as a photographer and lecturer. Now, my attention is shifting towards archiving and legacy. In 2022 I visited Ivory Coast which provided a turning point for me. While there, I learned about photographer Paul Kodjo through photographer and film director Ananias Léki Dego’s film Je reste photographe. The film reinforced the importance of preserving photographic histories that exist outside the mainstream. Likewise, I recently worked with an archivist through DACS’ Art360 programme, and supported Armet Francis’ to review his work and that process was eye-opening. Observing this archival process made me realise how important it is to start organising my own work - 30 years’ worth of images. Having this show now at Autograph is significant. My relationship with Autograph has evolved over time. I initially worked there as an administrator one day a week and during my time there, I met incredible practitioners with longstanding ties to both Autograph and Iniva. Autograph was the first organisation to commission me, so it feels like a full circle to be opening my first retrospective at the gallery.

BV: Thank you so much for taking the time to talk with me Eileen.