In the late nineteenth century, psychologists began to consider different ways in which we humans are influenced and view the world around us. The pioneer of this new theory was Pierre Janet who argued that underneath our critical thought process lay a powerful unseen state of awareness – perhaps one that could only be seen in our dreams as some, such as Sigmund Freud, would suggest – that shapes not only how we see the world but how we feel and act within it. Of course, this notion is one that remains notoriously difficult to prove and explain, but it is a theory that has become so strongly endorsed within our society that it can be found even within our law books.
If a person commits a crime unconsciously, such as when they’re sleepwalking, then a defence they might be able to put forward is that of, as it is known in many legislative courts around the globe, ‘automatism’. There have been many tragic cases for instance, where someone has even murdered their partner in their sleep and has been acquitted thanks to claiming automatism (though please don’t get any ideas here, as the law is incredibly reluctant to grant such a defence – I promise that there are much better ways to stop your husband from snoring!). Yet, whilst the law courts need to be very careful when it comes to making statements regarding the concept of subconsciousness, artists and writers can be a bit more open about it.
Interestingly, the term ‘automatism’ is one that extends from ‘automatic writing’, a literary movement that evolved during the early twentieth century whereby mediums would claim to unconsciously write out sentences based upon what their subconscious mind was apparently telling them to scribe. Within just a few years however, during the 1920s, this movement became embraced not only by such writers but also by artists who looked to express this subconscious realm in more visual terms. These artists included those such as Max Ernst who looked not only to the automatic writing movement but also the psychological works produced by the likes of Freud and poetic works, namely that of Andre Breton’s Manifesto of Surrealism; which also gave this new artistic movement its name.
The surrealism that many of us are familiar with today however, be it the apple-faced men or the floating tigers, was a result of a split from this idea of ‘automation’ – the act of writing or drawing whatever comes to mind – and a focus more upon our underlying fantasies, dreams, and aspirations in the form of illusory dreamlike landscapes. Leading this break was René Magritte whose works were then expanded upon by - you’ve guessed it - Salvador Dali whose surrealist works would come to dominate the Artscape of the mid-twentieth century. It was an art form, moreover, that not only shook up the traditional world of art by attempting to portray the unseen lands of our minds, but also implied, unlike the law courts, that our subconscious fuels both how we view our surroundings and what actions we take within them. Though, what is most certainly overlooked when it comes to this genre, is a medium which perhaps best captures the human side of surrealism in its rawest form – photography.
Around the same time that Surrealism was being developed at the end of a brush stroke by the likes of Dali, so too was it through the process of photographic film by those such as Man Ray and Maurice Tabard. These surrealist photographers sought to capture the essence of the subconscious realm by expressing the sheer illusory intensity of it, an attempt that was doubtlessly made all the more vivid by the use of real humans in their imagery.
Interestingly the techniques they used, like distortion and exposure, such as to blur the image as to make their human figures appear uncanny, can all be seen to bear a resemblance to many surrealistic works today, such as those of Sarah’s – not to mention the fact that hers are also in black and white. Sarah’s photography however not only resembles such surrealism in terms of imagery but also with regards to its ethos. This is because her art invites us to see the world through our subconscious lens and view it via our understandings of politics, society, gender, and movement. Though, what provides Sarah’s art with such depth, however, is how it aims not only to reflect our perception of the world but how it tries to alter it.
Growing up in West Sussex, Sarah never really, it may come to you as a surprise, had an interest in art but music and eventually ended up running her own clothing store. In fact, what got her into the arts wasn’t so much passion as it was a sudden revelation – a midlife crisis, or ‘psychosis’, you might say. ‘I had this moment… I run home education classes for kids and this lady was teaching me crochet and I was finding it really hard and this lady sitting next to me said “oh don’t worry Sarah, I find it really hard too, I haven’t got an artistic bone in my body either” and I was just sat there in shock thinking “how did I get to this point where people who know me in everyday life, don’t even think I’m artistic?” especially as I had such a strong music and performance background’. It was a crisis of identity however, that would lead her not only to get creative but share with others her view on the world.
This desire to redefine and express herself, led Sarah to photography. Though, it’s worth noting here, particularly for any aspiring photographers out there, that she started and continued for many years by simply using her old phone camera (see, you don’t need a load of money after all). Almost instinctively she begun to attempt to capture the world differently through her newly found lens and share with people her views on things – indeed, the ability to share one’s unique perspective of their surroundings is perhaps what encapsulates the very beauty of photography. In this sense, rather humorously but also interestingly, the first thing Sarah photographed was the different angles of her Victorian bathroom tap but this was to be just the beginning of a much larger process of documentation.
When we think of a documentary, we might think of high-quality footage of cheetahs chasing wildebeests, icy polar landscapes or undercover videos of Columbian cocaine dealers. Either way, when we imagine a form of documentation in a visual sense, we think of it as being exciting – even the titans of reality TV do their best to make eighty percent of their shows about a series of seemingly major arguments (I guess it wouldn’t be too exciting if Married at First Sight just filmed people taking a stroll or talking aimlessly – interestingly this is something Quentin Tarantino does in his films, but this cinematic subject is for a different time). The same sort of excitement is often thought of when it comes to the surrealist genre too – after all, with all its dreamlike and sexually charged elements, how isn’t surrealism anything other than exciting?
Indeed, we don’t often think much outside of these terms when it comes to visual documentation. Yet even the most prosaic – the most typically boring and unromantic – of objects can be turned, when using certain photographic techniques, into things that transform what we’re seeing, be it a cluttered room, a mirror, a ladder, or a person, into something that’s much more exhilarating to look at. What makes such pieces that much more intriguing once these effects have been put in place, however, is the fact that they have the power to reveal a host of underlying factors - something which doubtlessly makes such a surrealistic form of photography, like Sarah’s, a brilliant way in which to document our modern world.
Whilst Sarah’s documentation is centred on the present, you would be forgiven, initially at least, for thinking that her images are perhaps from a much older time. For when Sarah was first using her phone camera to take those initial images of her bathroom taps, she accidentally switched to using a black and white filter – a shade she has continued to use ever since. As well as this, Sarah also likes to utilise and elongate the exposure (the amount of light an image is exposed to) time of her photographs, a technique which presents viewers with an illusion of movement. Fascinatingly this desire to express movement not only appeals to her passion for musicals and, as you’ll find out, desire to evoke societal change, but also Fine Art. In this sense, the exposure within her imagery presents viewers with a surreal sense that the photograph has been painted. ‘There’s a big thing at the moment to get images to look highly realistic and I’m just like, why would I do that when I can make it look like a painting?’ Sarah laughs. This combination of movement and shading, moreover, go on to constitute what is perhaps her most important form of documentation – that of her objective self.
After the Victorian taps, Sarah began to photograph ‘everything’ she tells me, particularly that of the outdoors. One of the key reasons for this, and why she continues in some ways to do so, is that Sarah’s aims to document the kind of self-sufficient lifestyle, also known as permaculture, that her and family experience on their eco-farm in West Wales – much like photographer Julian McKenny who appeared in Edition II of the magazine. Yet, particularly as she begun to go through a bit of an emotional rough patch – a crisis of identity that nearly all adults go through – she began to self-document.
As we grow older many of us become ever more self-conscious about how we look, and Sarah openly admits that she too was not immune to these insecure feelings. The way she began to counter them, however, was through photographic self-portraits. In doing so, Sarah had found herself a therapeutic remedy, which would pave a path, as it does for many others, toward self-acceptance. Though, it was along this journey and the feeling of empowerment that she began to experience as a result of it, that her subjective stance gradually began to move to that of a more objective one. Within a short while Sarah began to realise that by implementing such photographic techniques, like her use of exposure for instance, and by utilising black and white shading, that she could create a more surrealistic style of self-portraiture - and in doing so formulate something that everyone could relate with.
‘It was me’, Sarah says, ‘but not me… I was really just documenting emotions.’ In this sense, her photography was and still very much is subjective because it is her emotions and her body that are ultimately what is being captured within the image. Yet the effects that Sarah uses to distort and reshape the photograph, suddenly transform what we’re seeing into something far more objective. It provides us with a host of emotions to which we can relate with but also a blank face which we can step in to. It’s a sense of relatability that many, as seen through the response from her fans online, find comfort in. But why is that? Why is there seemingly a need for Sarah’s kind of work?
Social media is a brilliant way to speak to family members over long distances; connect with friends at any time; arrange events and engage with people in a totally different way, which surely makes it a great ‘social’ tool… right? Well, perhaps not. Much like a news company or an archive, when it comes to publishing what goes on in our own lives – with some of doing this everyday - we are the ones who choose what goes out there. Frequently this means posting only the most exciting stuff when we’re looking our best, but this pattern, when multiplied hundreds of times over by billions of people, can have its downsides.
The first and most obvious of these negative repercussions, is arguably the widespread insecurity our social media posting habits have the power to create. Indeed, you don’t need to be a psychologist to realise that what is being presented on social media is frequently leaving people to feel as if their perfectly healthy lives are actually quite boring and that their totally normal bodily features and functions are perceivably rather strange and unattractive. In fact, the Centres for Disease Control noted that the number of suicides for 10 – 24-year-old increased by 57% between 2007 – 2017 (age of social media) when compared to the years 2000 – 2007 (pre-widespread social media use). Only recently in 2022, the University of Massachusetts reported that ‘College-wide Facebook access led to an increase in severe depression by 7% and anxiety disorder by 20%’. Sarah, however, like many others, are now helping to fight against this mental health calamity.
It's not exactly always comforting, with all their ripped abs and rich material wear, to view the likes of an ‘influencer’ on social media. More than often, these celebrities of the online world convey a message which tells us of how unacceptable it is to look and have the lifestyle that we do. On the other hand, Sarah’s art provides us with something we can relate with and a message that tells us that it’s ok to feel and look how we do. Of course, her work may be seen to be directed more towards women, but Sarah is also keen to point out that her art does not carry a feminist message but one of inclusivity, ‘it just so happens that I am a woman’ she says. In that sense, her imagery is intended to be genderless so that anyone can find comfort in it. Interestingly however, her work relates not only to how we look but also how we interact in the modern world.
As mentioned, social media has the power to keep us permanently connected – so what’s the point, many might say, of meeting up in person? In fact, this has become such an issue that the Welsh Government has launched a campaign through Transport for Wales called ‘The Real Social Network’, which aims to get us all off our phones and back to real life conversations and personal gatherings. Sarah too is also keen to show to viewers the hypocrisy within our society when it comes to our notions of interaction and connectivity. Take her work ‘Safe Space’ for instance. In this piece we see a person existing within a world that is wide spaced and free to roam, something which, with our cars, jobs, and social networks, we seem to be more able to do than ever. Yet the ladder over the person’s body may then be seen to represent how trapped and on our own we might feel, thanks to those very cars, jobs and social networks, in our apparently free world – a contradiction which Sarah is determined to expose.
Although Sarah does highlight the issues regarding isolation within our world by using photography, she also suggests how we might counter such feelings. One key remedy, she puts forward in her work, is the power of movement. As she portrays, it is via physical movement, going outside and interacting with both ourselves and others that we can help reduce the feelings of isolation. Yet it is also, her work says, through internal movement; by processing and thinking about who we are and how we act, that is the true catalyst for positive change – and one that just might break through that ladder after all.
Find more of Sarah's Surrealist works below! Sarah's Instagram
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