Interview with Josephine Dadson
C: CHAPTER 6, J: Josephine Dadson
C: When you describe this as a time that calls for action, do you consider painting itself a form of action? Or is it closer to revelation and questioning?
J: Painting is definitely a form of action, painting helps me process my personal experiences and the world around me, which in itself is critically questioning our corporal reality. I suppose there are ways to go about it which make it more of a positive action, for example, making your work accessible, so that people of all backgrounds in and outside the ‘art world’ see it and understand it. If you reach alcaim, what do you do with that platform and monetary success - you put your money where your mouth is and invest it into the causes you make art about.
C: When addressing these issues, why do you choose painting specifically? What does painting offer you that feels irreplaceable?
J: In a landscape where everything has been so digitalised, painting feels like a refuge. I don’t do well with digital creation, my brain isn’t very compatible with the abstract nature of how all these things work. With paint, you can experiment, it’s messy and you learn so much from each painting. Its just more compatible with who I am.
C: Do you still believe in the agency of art within contemporary social and political discourse?
J: Absolutely its so important its an expression outside of the academic way these discussions happen, it’s storytelling and some people just connect with it more.
C: Your works are often large in scale, and you’ve described scale as central to your practice. Does enlargement function as empowerment, or does it expose vulnerability?
J: The larger the piece, the more it shrinks the viewer and draws them into the snapshot of story I am telling. I really value the fact that the things being pictured are life-size or larger, which makes the subjects I am conveying more real and tangible.
C: Do you hope viewers feel understood in front of your work—or challenged？When you speak of accessibility, does that imply a reduction of complexity？
J: Absolutely not making things accessible is not dumbing it down its having an awareness that firstly mot all people think in the same way, and not all people have an education in the arts. I think I am trying to use a visual language that is universally understood. Taking inspiration from global historical contexts is how I try to achieve this, as well as painting with the emotional landscape connected to the piece. For example, trying to channel anger and frustration through my lines, emotions are what are at the base of our humanity, universal feelings we all feel equally and as deeply as each other, it’s what connects us. I want viewers to feel however they feel, if they feel understood, that is perfect if they feel challenged, that is perfect too. Thinking about difficult subject matter always triggers strong emotions whether a person is in the right place to try unpack those emotions. If I can get someone to think ‘why did I feel that’, its a success.
C: Your practice critiques self-discipline and internalised control, yet the art system itself operates through institutional frameworks, market forces, and forms of moderation. How do you position your voice within these structures? Has this tension become part of the work itself?
J: I suppose I've only been out of art education for 6 months, so really, I don’t have any experience. I have thought about it, following any kind of leftist politics its not really where acclaim and money come from. I am happy to continue making art, and if I meet someone, like CHAPTER 6 Gallery, who understands me and is able to uplift my work, that is awesome, and if not, I suppose that’s how the cookie crumbles. I will always make art I make it because I enjoy it, it’s how I process the world. If restrictions are put on my expression, I suppose it’s navigating a way to say what I want but in a more covert way.
C: In your work, the body functions both as a site of desire and as an object of control. For you, is the body primarily a political space, a psychological terrain, or a mythic symbol?
J: All of the above, our bodies exist to carry us through our time on Earth, they are the bridge between the internal and external, our point of communication. In the times we are living, our bodies are no longer just for ourselves to be maintained and cared for to stay healthy and able. They are there to be consumed and policed by others. So much value is placed on our bodies, what they look like, what colour they are, how old they are, what genitals are attached to them, which correlates to how many rights we have. So it’s impossible to represent a body without all this context being attached to it.
C: Could you speak about one or two specific works and explain how you translate structures such as capitalism, colonialism, or misogyny into visual language? How do these systems become visible within the image?
J: In the bomb painting, the way I have represented the female form is the pinnacle of Eurocentric beauty standards, what the far right in the West is pushing women to aspire to. This body ideal represents 100s of years of oppression stemming back to the beginning of colonialism in America and Europe. Now more than ever, this thin, hairless, pale, blonde, large-breasted body is being thrust upon us, and in trying to attain it, through starving, bleaching, and chopping our bodies, we become physically weaker as well as psychologically compromised. Resisting and existing outside this remit is just as hard.
C: Is there a kind of “invisible self-portrait” embedded in your paintings? How do you navigate the balance between intimate personal narrative and broader social discourse?
J: The two are intertwined, there are echoes of each experience in my own life. Everything I paint, I care deeply about in that way its a landscape of my mental landscape. My art used to centre much more around images of myself and my own experiences, which helped me work through traumatic events and complicated feelings. Now, I paint more about the world around me. It is a reflection of things if find interesting, confusing or unjust and how I exist in and around them. It’s a visual diagram of how all these things link up in my mind in that way, it is a self-portrait.
C: Your lines often appear simple, even cartoon-like, yet the subject matter is sharp and unsettling. Is humour, for you, a form of cushioning—or a weapon?
J: I use humour in my everyday life as a tool to manage difficult conversations or awkward moments. I enjoy making people laugh, and like you say, it cushions things. Life is hard and serious its good to bring levity into things, and I think it puts people’s guard down, it shocks people and makes them laugh, then the seriousness and discomfort emerge. The person’s already engaged and they start to really think about why these feelings are appearing and what I am trying to say.
C: You frequently draw from contemporary and historical visual culture—for example, borrowing figures such as Olive Oyl from Popeye. Why are you drawn to these popular visual symbols? How are they re-coded within your own context？
J: These symbols hold so much weight and meaning. Olive Oyl for example, has been around since 1919. In the cartoon Popeye the Sailor Man, she’s Popeye’s girlfriend, nothing more, nothing less, constantly being kidnapped by lusty men, coy and unassuming, the ultimate damsel in distress, so symbolically, she’s incredibly potent. She is a very recognisable character. Her presence in my work is intended to lull the viewer in, giving them a visual reference point. I also just like her and how she’s drawn. Shelly Duval played her in the live-action Popeye movie. She sang a song. He Needed Me, then this song was put into the movie Punch-Drunk Love (which I really didn’t enjoy), and before I knew any of this, the song from the Punch Drunk Love movie album was playing somewhere, and I asked what it was called and added it to my playlist. Olive Oyl has managed to sneak her way onto my playlist. I love how culture works in these ways.
C: As an artist who grew up in a highly digital and fragmented era, you continue to engage with large-scale political and social narratives. Is this focus something that emerged naturally, or is it a deliberate choice?
J: A mixture, as I said, my work used to centre much more around my own experiences, which were heavily influenced by feminist theory. Once you start researching any social/political theory, it emerges that all oppression is linked to one another. In trying to understand one and change things, you have to understand and to try to change them all.