Blending music, sculpture, lightwork and film, Christelle Oyiri’s installation In a perpetual remix where is my own song? launches Tate Modern’s new Infinities Commission with a site-specific rumination on self-image in the digital world. Featuring everything from strip clubs and cosmetic surgery to Pokémon and memes, we took the opportunity to chat with the artist about being selected to launch the brand new commission…

You’ve described your work in the past as focusing on ‘The things that lie between the lines’; could you expand on that in the context of this work?

I think I’m focused on subtext, textures, and feelings rather than exploring issues in a topical way, or treating them like a documentary - although I think documentary is super cool, and I may lean into it at some point in my career.

‍Your work spans a lot of disciplines, including music, sculpture, performance, and installation. Do you see these disciplines as separate entities that dialogue with each other, or as coming together to create a wider whole?‍

I definitely used to see them as a separate part of myself, as a separate path I was on, but I think growing older and engaging with this commission has proved to me that it’s more like a continuum; one informs the other, and this commission feels a lot like I’m merging the two. I’m using my experience as a DJ and my engagement with club culture and music to inform what I wanted to say with this commission.

And what are some of the advantages of working across various media?

I think one of the advantages is that you get to step out of your comfort zone to explore different paths. It gives you a new outlook on each of your practices. Every time you face challenges, you can find answers to your questions in another form, it’s almost like a cheat code to navigate your creativity.

How much did this work evolve throughout its development?

I think this commission is very different from my usual work; my work is usually informed by an embryonic architectural practice. This still is, since all these elements almost complement each other, but I think when I talk about embryonic architectural practice, it’s because I didn’t study architecture. I can’t pretend to be an architect because it means building spaces completely from scratch. What I’ve tried to do with my exhibitions is to recreate spaces, like the lobby of a building, or, in ETH Zurich, I recreated a travel agency; I’ve shaped my art practice as heavily influenced by architecture.

This time, when I came into the South Tank, I was very intimidated; I was facing challenges in my life that made me consider myself in my body, as a woman and my health. So then my work was very virile, not in terms of virility, but very masculine, addressing masculine subjects and centring masculine characters. It had this very heavy, brutalist architecture. Here, my work shifted greatly because I leaned more into talking about my femininity and getting my mental nourishment from it. That helped me with this commission, even though it was something I had been avoiding; I guess I had still been feeling some kind of internalised misogyny by talking to myself as a woman, rather than talking to myself as an individual, as a black person, not just as a black woman. I think leaning into my femininity has shifted my work.

It’s interesting you mentioned the architecture of the space. Did that play into the development of the work?

Absolutely, I was extremely intimidated when I arrived. The South Tank is known for hosting a lot of performances - every time I’ve come here before was for a runway show or a performance, and only for exhibitions, which were based more around painting, so I really had to tame the space. It looked so raw, like this wild animal that I had to learn how to approach and be gentle but firm with it. I was slightly scared because it’s not a white cube. Even though I haven’t really exhibited my work that much in white cubes, they were still spaces that felt domesticated. Even though they’re in the Tate Modern, the Tanks don’t really feel domesticated; even when we were finding a good setting for the screening, we encountered issues, like the colour-grading can be modified by the wall it’s being projected onto. The walls have a lot of texture and colour, there are visible signs of erosion, so the final version pops out differently from how we expected, it’s really a wild place to exhibit in.

I imagine it’s also quite a challenge to evoke the digital experience in such a physical space…

Yes, and in a physical space that feels so… I’m trying to find the right word…

Industrial?

Industrial, but in a way that feels almost untouched. I feel like when people hear ‘industrial’, they imagine something polished and utilitarian. It has this utilitarian flair, but in a way that feels nothing has been done to it. There’s a dichotomy with the statues, which are bronze with an aluminium finish, between the raw and the polished.

And is there anything in particular that you hope visitors take away from this installation?

I have no idea… [Laughs] I really want them to get loose for a moment, and to get into their internal symphonies. I think it has some elements of opera without any musicians, elements of performance without any actual performance… I hope it’s treated as such, rather than expecting a static solo show to be passive, leaning into the performance and active aspects of it…

‍And finally, what role do commissions like this play in the continued evolution of the art world?

I think I would hope that they open doors for more non-traditional artists, who didn’t really grow up surrounded by art, or in this grey interstitial area where they don’t really know how to situate themselves, but are steadily making art and pushing boundaries. I think the boundary-pushing aspect needs to be stressed and highlighted - I would hope that fearlessness is something that’s compensated and celebrated in the future, because sometimes it feels like it’s not rewarded with much commercial success. There’s a difference between being able to show your work and selling it - it’s taboo, but it needs to be said.

Christelle Oyiri: In a perpetual remix where is my own song? is showing at the Tate Modern until 25 August.