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Karimah Ashadu

Installation view, Karimah Ashadu, Tendered, Camden Art Centre, 10 October 2025 – 22 March 2026
Credit: © Karimah Ashadu. Courtesy the Artist, Fondazione In Between Art Film,
Sadie Coles HQ, London and Camden Art Centre. Photo: Andrea Rossetti

From Within 

Karimah Ashadu’s work begins with the body. Before turning to film, she trained in painting and spatial design, developing a way of thinking grounded in surface, scale, and physical presence. That foundation continues to shape her moving images, where cameras are often attached to bodies or custom-built mechanisms, and motion becomes not a visual effect but a method of inquiry.

Living between Lagos, London, and Hamburg, Ashadu’s films move across geographies, economies, and identities. Her work engages labor, masculinity, migration, and autonomy, particularly within informal systems that exist beyond regulation yet sustain everyday life. Rather than offering explanation, her films construct encounters. They ask the viewer to feel position, proximity, and imbalance, and to recognize the conditions under which looking itself takes place.

Recipient of the Silver Lion for a Promising Young Participant at the Venice Biennale, Ashadu reflects on painting as a foundation for filmmaking, the role of physicality and installation, the politics of direct address, and why her films function less as statements than as self-portraits shaped by lived experience.

You began your practice in painting and spatial design before moving into photography and film. What did painting teach you about surface, scale, and attention that still shapes how you compose moving images?

That’s a really good question. I think what painting teaches you, fundamentally, is composition and an awareness of many factors at once. How you want the work to feel, the kind of emotion you want it to engage in the viewer, and how you achieve that through shape, texture, and surface. Painting creates a visual language that stays with you. For me, it is completely fundamental to how I make film.

I was working in a very free way creatively. Of course there are rules, but for me they are intuitive, about feeling, balance, and attention.

Your approach to film seems to emerge through the body, through position, balance, and movement. How did working physically influence the way you first understood motion on screen?

When I was painting, I was very interested in performance painters and artists who worked directly with their bodies. The body was always at the center for me, and that is what drove my entry into filmmaking.

I started by building mechanisms, structures where I would give control to the device itself. I placed my camera inside the mechanism, and over several years that process evolved. What I loved was not knowing exactly what I was going to see, and how movement could influence narrative. The physical relationship between the camera and the body, and how that is experienced, became central. The way the film moves physically contributes to the narrative.

You have lived between Lagos, London, and Hamburg. How does moving between these places shape your sense of framing, duration, or where the camera is allowed to be?

Moving between these places influences me on many levels. It makes me aware of myself, my body, and how the world sees me. How the world interacts with me as a Black woman, as a person of color, as an African, as a European woman.

It also makes me think about space, where I am allowed to be, and how I move through environments. One moment I might be filming in the slums of Lagos, and the next I am sharing that work in an art space across the world. That movement is key to what I do.

It is often described as a privilege, though it should be a necessity for everyone. For me, moving between these places is essential to my practice.

Many of your films are encountered by audiences far removed from the conditions they depict. How do you think about the distance between lived experience and its reception through the image?

I am not naive. I know what I am doing. It depends on how open the audience is. If someone is guided only by what they have absorbed through the media, they will view the work through a specific lens. If the audience is open minded, has traveled, reads, and is culturally engaged, then there is space to see from a different perspective.

I am not trying to educate anyone. I am not trying to be an activist. I am simply showing the world as I experience it. I cannot control how the work is read. I can only present it honestly.

Speaking about Makoko Sawmill, you have said that your methods make closeness felt. What concrete choices create that closeness, and where do you intentionally hold back?

Making Makoko Sawmill happened during a period when I was figuring out my place in Nigeria. I grew up there, then left for the UK, and this was a time of return, of re-learning the culture and understanding where I fit in the landscape.

Karimah Ashadu
Makoko Sawmill, 2015 [Still]
HD digital film, colour with stereo sound
20:00 mins
Credit: © Karimah Ashadu. Courtesy the Artist and Sadie Coles HQ, London
Karimah Ashadu
Makoko Sawmill, 2015 [Still]
HD digital film, colour with stereo sound
20:00 mins
Credit: © Karimah Ashadu. Courtesy the Artist and Sadie Coles HQ, London
Karimah Ashadu
Makoko Sawmill, 2015 [Still]
HD digital film, colour with stereo sound
20:00 mins
Credit: © Karimah Ashadu. Courtesy the Artist and Sadie Coles HQ, London

The mechanisms I was using allowed me to work through that process. The audience accompanies me on a journey of reconciliation, and that is intimate in itself. Making art is intimate. You are sharing parts of your process and parts of your emotional world, parts of your “soul”, really. 

With my films, I am creating a world and inviting the viewer into it, framing that experience very specifically. It is about opening a dialogue. It is an invitation rather than a declaration.

In several works, your subjects look directly into the camera. What does this direct address ask of the viewer, and how does it shift the balance of looking and being looked at?

I use that device often, for many reasons. On one level, you are watching a film and become hypnotized. That direct look interrupts that state and makes you aware of yourself as the viewer.

But it is also about the subject meeting you directly. Often this is a Black body, frequently a Black male body, onto which so much history and projection is placed. That moment becomes one of reclamation and empowerment. It says, I see you watching me, and I am aware of it.

There are many layers operating at once.

You often attach the camera to your body or to custom-built devices, allowing movement to generate the image. What kinds of understanding emerge from this method?

It comes from having a physical approach to filmmaking. For me, anything is possible. I think about the image I want to achieve and then find a way through my body to achieve it.

The movement of the camera works hand in hand with the subject. Over time, I have learned what works for me and what does not. It has been a process of discovery, and I am not afraid of that.

In Cowboy, the camera moves with the rider, sharing speed and rhythm. What changes when the image moves alongside its subject instead of observing from a distance?

Cowboy is two-channeled.You are following this Black cowboy, this African cowboy, from behind, and he leads you through his environment. Historically, that act of following a Black body carries meaning.

He takes you to the shore, to the Atlantic, and charges toward it without entering. The ocean becomes a site of historical violence for Black people, through slavery and contemporary undocumented migration. It represents the unknown.

There is a lot of symbolism woven in. The palm tree, for example, is a symbol of peace in West African history and was used as camouflage during times of war. On a surface level, these details might be missed, but they are present.

From sawmills and tin mines to motorcycle taxis and makeshift gyms, your work repeatedly engages with labor carried out in informal or unregulated conditions. What draws you to these spaces of work?

When I think about Nigeria and independence, I think about how independence was taken from us. We were always independent. Labor becomes central when thinking about rebuilding autonomy.

Labor in Nigeria is extremely physical and often harsh, very raw and at times “wrong”.But it is also a pathway to autonomy, not only individually but collectively. It connects to history, social structures, and the body itself. The way the body moves through labor has always fascinated me.

In Muscle and Machine Boys, strength is constantly displayed, yet it never appears stable. What interested you in filming masculinity at the moment where effort becomes visible?

I was thinking about representations of masculinity, what it means to be a man and how manhood is performed. Amateur bodybuilding became a space to explore that.

By getting very close, you see how vulnerable the pursuit is. Strength is temporary. It requires discipline and constant effort. In the Nigerian context, masculinity carries heavy stereotypes, particularly around the Black male body. I wanted to abstract that image and fragment it.

The film has no clear beginning or end. It inserts you into a moment. Sound, repetition, and strain build discomfort. The sounds themselves are abstract. You feel unsettled, but you cannot look away.

Brown Goods approaches migration through circulation, trade, and value. What led you to focus on movement and exchange?

I was living in Hamburg and did not speak the language. I was trying to understand the city and its layers. I discovered an informal trade network run largely by West African migrants, importing and exporting second-hand goods.

Karimah Ashadu, Brown Goods, 2020 [Still]
HD Digital film, colour with mono sound
12:00 mins
Credit: © Karimah Ashadu. Courtesy the Artist and Sadie Coles HQ, London
Karimah Ashadu, Brown Goods, 2020 [Still]
HD Digital film, colour with mono sound
12:00 mins
Credit: © Karimah Ashadu. Courtesy the Artist and Sadie Coles HQ, London
Karimah Ashadu, Brown Goods, 2020 [Still]
HD Digital film, colour with mono sound
12:00 mins
Credit: © Karimah Ashadu. Courtesy the Artist and Sadie Coles HQ, London

The protagonist, Emeka, left Nigeria through Lampedusa. As an asylum seeker, he was not allowed to work officially, yet he was being paid by the Africans, effectively earning African money in Europe. That cycle fascinated me. The film follows his labor and his thoughts on autonomy and identity, being African and European at once. My films are self-portraits. I find situations that reflect my own questions and experiences.

You have spoken openly about the fact that once a film is completed, you leave, and the relationship often ends. How does that awareness shape the way you film intimacy?

Life happens in moments. You do not enter a relationship thinking about its end. You enter it openly. That is how I approach filmmaking.

I am clear about my intentions, and the people I film know why I am there. There is an exchange, including a monetary one. These are moments of connection. You do not know how long they will last. You just know that you want to connect.

Installation view, Karimah Ashadu, Tendered, Camden Art Centre, 10 October 2025 –
22 March 2026
Credit: © Karimah Ashadu. Courtesy the Artist, Fondazione In Between Art Film,
Sadie Coles HQ, London and Camden Art Centre. Photo: Andrea Rossetti

Across your work, movement becomes a way of thinking rather than simply a way of seeing. What, at this point in your practice, still resists being fully understood, filmed, or held in form?

I always want to feel challenged. The moment I get comfortable, I pivot. That is true in my work and in my life. I want to feel like I am on the edge of something I do not fully understand.

My practice is about questioning. The work becomes an answer to those questions. Right now, I am thinking about how film can expand and influence painting and sculpture. I am working across installation, public art, and developing a feature film. I am always growing. That is the point.

Credits

All images courtesy the Artist, Fondazione In Between Art Film, Sadie Coles HQ, London and Camden Art Centre.
Discover more on karimahashadu.com

Nicolas Winding Refn

Absolute Cinema – Nicolas Winding Refn on the Record

A restless visionary, Nicolas Winding Refn has built a career on pushing cinematic boundaries. From his early days capturing raw reality to his later obsession with the surreal and imaginative, Refn’s work is a constant evolution of artistic expression. In this conversation, he reflects on his creative journey, the genesis of his media platform BYNWR, and his philosophy on filmmaking. 

Maud Tenda Hi , nice to meet you ! So before talking about your career and work, I just wanted to start talking a bit about BYNWR, the media platform, and production company you created in 2018.

Nicolas Winding Refn Oh, cool !

MT I wanted to know, what was your intention in creating that platform ?

NWR My wife asked me that question every day (laughs) I think that I was interesting by what the digital revolution has brought, such as the new opportunistic way to share contents. Any artist needs an audience, just like an audience need an artist to create, it’s like a chain reaction. And it’s even more inspiring if you can communicate with the audience directly without being forced to deal with the system of obstructions that we’re so used to. The digital age has made this possible ! I wanted the platform to be a collective experience, it needed to embrace everything. I didn’t want the platform to be just cinema or television or, you know, installations of photography or music or news. So in way the platform is everything and none, it’s like a museum, an archival, a digital archival space, where things exist forever and can be represented and repurposed for everyone in the future.

MT Can you explain why The Nest of the Cuckoo Bird was the first movie on your platform?

NWR At the time I was workin on a movie posters book with one of my editors, Jamie McDonough, who’s a wonderful writer. And through various internet opportunities, I connected with a collector who was selling posters. One day, The cuckoo birds came up and I remember going to Jimmy asking him if he knew it and he sais : « Oh my god this is the holy grail of the fringes of cinema ! ». So I bought the poster for $20, and a year later it came up another copy for $8,000 on eBay. I thought that this must be a very valuable piece of art because the only thing that I could find about it was an old promotion newspaper. I also knew that The Cramps have done a song about it. And then, I was in Texas just by accident, and a post production facility came up and said : « We know that you’re interested in this film and we actually have a print that we’re scanning » I thought that if I could have the print, I l’pay for the scanning and restoration, and The Cuckoo Bird became the first diamond on the platform !

MT Are you a collector in your life? Do you collect things?

NWR Well yes, I have phases, one of the things that I still collect is Japanese toys for my youth, I place them all around me. Also I love being around with obsessive people that collect because it’s very interesting. It’s like you’re hanging out with Indiana Jones and finding the strangest things you can ever imagine. That’s always so exciting.

MT How do you finance this platform?

NWR Oh, self financed ! Working ! (laughs) But that’s how it had to be in the beginning, because I wanted to have the control. Over the years, it’s gotten more easier to get support. Obviously it’s now the intention. Everything has to become a business you know.

MT Some director as Werner Herzog thinks that is better to not watch too much movies to make ones, because it’s easier to create something new without a great cinematic culture. What do you think about that ?

NWR I don’t really know if I have an opinion on what one shouldn’t do or do, but I’ll say it like this, I think not knowing can be incredibly important and inspiring but at the same time, all the enormous amount of knowledge and information is also a big part of creativity. We all stand on each other, and that’s what evolution is. When you think of all the great artists in the history, they all had an extreme knowledge of the past.

MT Do you consider yourself as a cinephile?

NWR I don’t know if I’m a cinephile, but I think I very much like the moving images. Because of my dyslexia, I had this big fascination for television, because that was a means of expression that suited me. I don’t think that I discovered movies, I think movies discovered me, and that was through television first of all.

MT How did you starts your career ?

NWR I was very fortunate to begin my career with a phone call, and that led to getting my first film finance without having any knowledge of how to make a movie. My family comes from the film industry you know, so I grew up on sets. I was very lucky, and I’m forever grateful for that. But it’s a big difference between suddenly having to make decisions. I just seen a lot of movies, but I didn’t know anything about making ones.

MT As a director you always have to think about money issues during your creativity process, how do you manage with that ?

NWR Through your career, you obviously begin to understand that money and art have an equal importance. Making art is to be free to make exactly what you want to do, and If you really want to control your life, you have to understand money and financing. Every dollar you get, is a headache or an obstacle. So how many headaches and obstacles do you want in your life in order to be completely free? You know, the less your movie costs, the more freedom you have, not just in making the movie, but also afterwards. Art is always dependent on a financial reward in many ways in order to continue and putting yourself. I think that the financial pressure can be very healthy creatively, because the more desperate you are, the more you can exercise your muscle of instinct, it’s like to create a brain lies in your stomach and therefore not in your head. So you also have to use tricks to put yourself in situations where you have to navigate through all the obstacles.

MT How did you find your identity as a director, is it conscious?

NWR I started making films because of my interests in reality. At the beginning of my career I tried to turn reality into fiction, but then I became less interested in reality, because I didn’t want to be documentarian. I wanted to make fantasy, to make imagination. And so I decided to work more with the unreality but with the same authenticity and the same emotions. I’m now more interested in the unreal world than the real world. I find it more liberating. You know, it’s more freeing?

MT Are you influenced by your childhood, in your creative process?

NWR I think it’s important that you never allow your judgment. I always believe that you must never let the inner child disappear, because it’s like never forgetting who you were. At the end of the day, that’s who you’ll become.

MT I noticed a very interesting development in the writing and treatment of female characters during your career. On this point, there’s for example a big gap between movies such as Bleeder (1999) and production like Copenaghen cow boy (2023) ? Do you agree? And can you talk bout that ?

NWR Well, I’m sure you’re right, at least that’s what everyone tells me. But I don’t think so much about what I do. I’m surrounded by women, so I guess that has something to do with it. I guess I always set out to make films about women, and end up making it about violent men. Creativity is also to constantly move and never stay in one place. Creativity is like liquid, like water. It always has to flow, and it’s transparent because it’s not what you see, it’s what you feel of the water that really affects you. So for me, creativity is like a stream of conscience, and it evolves as you evolve, as you grow. It grows how you lived your life. It’s affected by those decisions. And as long as you keep yourself open to whatever comes to you and not think about it so much, but just create, then you are free, and that freedom can never be taken away from you.

MT What is your method of actor’s directing ?

NWR I went to acting school myself. When I was 19, my mother had given me a book about John Cassavetes. I’v got passionate about it and went to the Cinematheque in Copenhagen to see The Killing of a Chinese Bookie. I remember thinking : « God, that’s the kind of acting I would like to have if I made a movie. » And then I discovered that John Cassavetes had gone to the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York. So I wanted to follow in his footsteps, but I was kicked out after a year… I think directing styles are so enormous and can have so many variations. I don’t think there’s a correct method or a wrong one. But what I’m always trying to do as a director is simply to inspire others to give their best. Being a director is like being a shrink psychologist. It’s being a military operator and a kindergarten teacher at the same time.

MT You have also a very particular approach to sound, and a real sound identity, which is quite rare. How do you work with sounds ?

NWR Because of my dyslexia, I had to always rely on not necessarily having words, so everything had to be approached like a silent movie. And obviously sound and music are very becomes my best friends. Again it’s like liquid, it’s transparent, so you can’t see it, you can only feel it. And I think one of the powers of creativity, if it is to sustain longevity, is that it has to surpass the experience of understanding into the experience of feeling.

MT Is there a soundtrack that influenced you particularly?

NWR Funny you asked that ! I was 8 when I moved to New York with my mother and my stepfather, so I had my formative years in the greatest city that ever existed in its best years. My mother had the soundtrack of Once upon a time in the west, and I remember loving to listening to the music and looking at the cover without having seen the movie. I guess that was my introduction to the power of film music. I actually still have that exact vinyl in my collection.

MT What advice would you give to a young director?

NWR I would say a very simple advice, in three words : Do it your way ! … Is that three words? my wife just corrected me that it was four words, but see, that’s why I was not very good in school, I can’t even count to four ! (Laughs)

MT Do you ever watch your own movies?

NWR No, I don’t watch my own films when I’m done. They just become, you know, that space. I get high on it’s the creative process, but the result is essentially no longer really mine. The experience of making the movie is mine, and the experience of seeing it is to the audience, and both are equally important. It’s like having children you know, they’re yours until they’re 18, and then you gotta let them go.

MT What was the last movie you saw that really stood out for you ?

NWR Well, my eldest daughter, who’s 21 was going to travel around Asia. Before she left, I showed her The Deer Hunter of Michael Cimino. And I was just again amazed by this magnificent filmmaking. She also very much liked it by the way, and I was very happy about it.

MT My last question, can you talk a bit about your next project.

NWR Well, I would love to tell you about my next project, but it’s difficult because I haven’t made it yet. I am planning on shooting something, but I still have to make it first before I can tell you what it is. I just I don’t know what things are until I’ve made them. It’s a bit like being a child, you know ?

Credits

Talent · Nicolas Winding Refn wears PRADA
Photography · Yuji Watanabe
Prop Stylist · Shizuka Aoki

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