Some artists wear their mind on their sleeve; allowing us to peer into their thoughts and feelings through the art they produce. When you get to meet such an artist, it is a unique experience altogether that deepens your understanding from a perspective that isn’t otherwise available.
This is what I pondered sitting besides Caleb Femi, as conversation volleyed from the trivial to the complex and back again. A common thread that has strung all of the multihyphenate’s work together is the element of sonder- giving nuance and depth to a passersby, putting their lives on display as if they were all main characters in their own right. Whether he is directing for shows like HBO’s Industry and Champion, compiling sonnets for his books, or even curating a Louis Vuitton runway show, Caleb Femi prioritises individual stories within the wider scope of the tale.
In 2016, the author, photographer, and filmmaker became London's first Young People's Laureate, using the role to raise awareness of poetry in the capital, across the country and internationally. Winning the Forward Prize for Best First Collection for his poetry book Poor four years later was only the beginning of the book’s success. It was later named as a Book of the Year by several publications and platforms including The Guardian, Observer, and BBC. For Caleb Femi, this marked a full-circle moment, transitioning from his role as an English teacher to having his own work included in AQA’s English Literature GCSE syllabus.
His latest release, The Wickedest, is a poetry book that chronicles a legendary house party and all those who attend. The book combines poetry both traditional and unconventional in its structure, with other mediums like photography and text messages to poignantly convey what it means to truly be young, Black and free in all ways. Femi brings a fresh, raw, and unflinchingly honest exploration of inner-city nightlife rooted in community, unpoliced joy and liberation.
As Caleb is someone who often observes others in order to highlight their stories, it was now my turn to do the same for the Nigerian-British creative:
On moving from Kano to Peckham:
If I'm being honest, it was kind of calm moving to Peckham because there was a large Black community. There were so many Nigerians, so I was cushioned and didn’t experience the migrant culture shock. That wasn't the case for a lot of my counterparts; they were dropped into Essex in the late 90s, which is a lot. So I was fortunate in some way, but culturally, I guess the Black British culture was one that I had to like. I feel like I quickly acclimatised myself to it, because there was so many elements of it that was Nigerian anyway, or at least West African. And then I quickly made friends with everyone from everywhere, whether it was the Caribbean or wherever, and if you are somewhere, I always prided myself on someone that was able to read social cues and find the best ways to take what I need from it. And if the mandate was about acclimatisation and just feeling like you're part of this group of kids, it doesn't really take me long. I kind of just jumped on it. And you know what it is with me? My first day of primary school, I had a fight because someone made fun of me because of my accent. He ended up being my best friend by the time we finished. And I was like, cool, let's scrap now. So I've always had that personality where it didn't feel too much of a scare, or I didn't feel alienated by the culture. I felt excited to want to take parts of this culture and assimilate. When I'm talking culture, it’s important to know I mean Black British culture.
On the concept behind The Wickedest:
The concept kind of came to me after lockdown, and we were all, you know, let outside in the world, and I feel like there were two sets of people. One was like, “we outside, let's have a good time”, you know, community. And then there were a lot of people who were apprehensive. Obviously, everyone was a bit nervous to be in enclosed spaces or in houses and whatnot. But I think I wanted to just remind people the importance of socialising, the importance of coming together as a community, and just celebrating ourselves for no reason other than “we're still here, we're still alive”. So, that was the main driving force, but The Wickedest itself is like an amalgamation of all the different parties I've gone to, but also those I've imagined as well. It’s the concept of being in a space with people that you know, people that you don't know, and just feeling a connection with everyone, and having moments that kind of feel heightened. Have you ever been to a party and you're laughing with a group of people, and you have this feeling that is so difficult to describe in the realms of reality? It almost feels above that.
I can easily become an observational participant. I love people watching. And there's so much about understanding or really connecting with humanity when you just take a moment and appreciate how different people are. Whether it's the way their personality makes them stand out, or maybe the current situation they're in, or where they've come from, you just don't know. I think that I really wanted to pull from all the different complexities of social interactions. For example, you've got this yute, he's snuck in, and he's there for his own sense of self. But then there's someone else who has a different motivation to be in the space. I just felt like really capturing the whole tapestry of why we are all in a particular space together. We all have different entry points. But I guess the thing that keeps us together is the fact that we're here in this space, in this time, right now, and sometimes that's all that matters. Like the base form of human connectivity is just you're standing in close proximity to one another, and that should be enough.
On rediscovering joy:
When Poor came out, it got a really nice reception, but it kind of affected my writing because I felt boxed in. I felt like, Oh my God there are so many people that now have this expectation of the kind of writer I am and it crippled me a little bit. I was a different person, and I was in a different moment in my life. So I started to really feel estranged from the writer that wrote Poor, and I needed to find a new confidence in myself as a writer, to explore other avenues. Obviously, I'm new, so there is a lot of fear. Would people still like my work if it sounds different? Or if it feels different? So I needed time to really get over that first of all, and then after that, I just wanted to have fun. I think the last few years, it's just me experimenting and really put in joy and almost like a childlike imagination into all the practices that I'm involved in, and even in my own life. I just needed to be a bit more fun, a bit more experimental, a little bit closer to myself. Especially after lockdown, man, it was such a serious time, I just needed to just be unserious for a while.
I kind of put writing aside. I played a lot, travelled a lot, and just did some basic stuff, you know, those things that everyone does. How many times did I change the colour of my hair? I changed the way I dress. I don't know, I just wanted to live a life where no wasn't a common word in my vocabulary. I bought a dirt bike. You know, my neighbours really hated me for that. 10 months of me riding that every day, picked up new hobbies, just tried stuff out. I think I just was on that, how can I discover the childlike version of myself again? And I will never let that side of me decline or recluse into the shadows. I think maybe between 2017 and 2020, things were just mad serious. I took life so seriously, I guess because rent was due, so I really had to lock in. But after that, I was like, okay, cool. I can't come and die and kill myself. Not everything has to have that level of like intensity where you forget what the whole point is.
On switching between artforms:
Engaging in all these mediums informs me a lot about the sort of story that I might have in my head. And I really like that. I like universe building. I like making one thing and then being like, oh, imagine a world where this thing existed instead- like parallel worlds. With my last book, I did that quite a lot, like there were elements of that book that you can watch as a short film, you can hear as a song and all that kind of stuff. Yeah, so it's always been that kind of thing where I can pick and choose, but make sure that this is informing my story. The stories that I want to tell are able to become different versions of themselves. Because words can only ever take you so far, like words are a failure in the nature of themselves. What you want to communicate is never fully close to the sentiment you’re feeling inside. So with that, cool let me embrace that. If words can sort of communicate 80%, can the other 20% be communicated via other mediums? Whether it's visual or not, you know? So it was important that I had all those like mixed media elements in the book to just give you a texture that my words couldn't. And I was actually less focused on the words this time. With Poor, I was so meticulous about technical elements and all of that but, you know, I've done it now.
No one chat to me. Don't test my gangster. Don't ask me about the quality of my writing, because I've done it and now I'm playing with words. I'm playing with techniques, and I'm really having fun with it.
On the other hand you have the commercial work I do. They are very different, and sometimes you have to, compartmentalise. There's the version of me that is a commercial artist, commercial director. There's another part of me that's, you know, what's the opposite of commercial? Yeah, that's on the other side. There’s just the necessity for the commercial elements for me, first and foremost, because I got rent to pay. I've got to maintain myself. Part and parcel of existing in this Babylon means that there are parts of it that you're just going to have to do for the sake of money. What's the pros and cons of the check? And if there are enough pros that I can live with despite the cons, I'm going to do it. And I always feel like the community, they get it, they understand. I don't move mad, I don't work in commercial spaces that compromise my ethics too much. I have to put a star on that, because every company is laced with some bad stuff. So I've always made sure that as long as I can, morally, stand up to certain commercial decisions then, that's fine. I'll engage with it. I'm not going to be broke for the sake of performative whatever, whatever, whatever. So I try to keep that balance. But also I try on the commercial side of things, to really do my best and really enjoy it as much as I can in order to create something that still has resemblance to my other work, so it doesn't feel like chalk and cheese.
On recognition, accolades and achievement:
I believe that recognition from the right places and from the right people is important. Sometimes you get recognition, but it's from a certain space and you don't want that. If those people see you as one of them, then you're dancing wrong. So I'm always making sure that I'm very careful about accolades and what they actually look like. Sometimes they're empty gestures and when they are that's fine. They wash off me, water off a duck's back, but when it's one that I think is substantial and beneficial to me and to my community, then, yeah. I'm always appreciative of it. But I think for me the only recognition, accolade or award that I want is just from my community. If people, mandem, gyaldem, everyone- if people can look at my work and be like, yeah, then that's it. Everything else is secondary. That’s what brings me peace and I always want to achieve peace of mind. I don't think I've had that for a minute.
On what’s next:
What I want next? Well, I want to…I want to do something. I want to engage in a medium that I haven't before, so maybe, I want to write a novel next.
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