When I first encountered an image of two bitten cherries by Maisie Cousins (1992, London), I was immediately struck by it. The iconic song “Cherry Bomb” by The Runaways came to mind. After some research, I was captivated by these close-ups of insects scouring rotting fruits and vegetables, dead flowers, Chinese food packaging, garbage, and food markets.
Her photographs are contemporary still life vanitas, portraying the decadence of the mundane and reminding us of life’s ephemerality, as well as the unattractive, even repulsive, side of some subjects. There is something extremely aversive, yet simultaneously aesthetic in her work; the intense colors, the rich textures, and the glowing bodies are literally exploding before our eyes.
While some may find Cousins’ hyper-saturated images grotesque, her photographs are visual hyperboles where flaws become strangely attractive. They awaken a desire–to touch, crush, and feel the objects–a disorder she orchestrates in several series of still lifes that explore the beauty of decadence.
Her approach to the female body is direct, honest, and uncensored, as if in her universe there were no unattainable standards of beauty. She subverts the ideal of perfection by embracing and enhancing the natural beauty of the female body, redefining femininity. We spoke with her to understand the creative process behind her work, where she finds inspiration, and what she is currently working on.
Do you remember the first picture you took?
Probably a picture of my sister.
How would you describe your creative process?
Messy, instinctive. A bit like cooking.
What type of camera do you use?
I don’t think it matters or is interesting to my practice. The camera is just a tool to document the still life I have created. It could be any medium, but the camera was there when I started, and now it has become an extension of my body, like a third arm.
When did you find your own voice and style as a photographer?
After college, I found the educational structure around photography honestly quite boring. It was a lot of theory and tidy photos accompanied by essays. After I left, I got a job in commercial and editorial photography, and that’s where I discovered a way of working that was more fun and overall less pretentious.
How have you evolved as an artist over the years?
Now I can sit with the images quietly for a while, analyze them, and wait until they find their “space or place,” either physically or within a project. Before, I felt the need to share them with the world immediately to take the responsibility off my shoulders.
Where do you find inspiration?
Honestly, in the everyday moments.
Your photographs capture still life in a provocatively beautiful way, but they also portray raw and grotesque reality. What emotion do you intend to provoke in the viewer?
I don’t think about the viewer at all. The viewer is a bonus that comes later. I love the in-between emotions, that gray area in the senses where you’re not sure how you feel.
Your work also highlights the so-called imperfections of the female body. Is this an intentional way of normalizing them and critiquing today’s high standards of beauty to celebrate our own femininity?
I’m interested in everything about being a woman, so I don’t see these things as imperfections, just details, layers, and complexities.
On that note, what’s your stance on how women are portrayed these days on social media?
I don’t understand why people want to look at themselves so much—after a day of existing as myself in my body, I’d like to escape and look at pictures of other things!
We live in a world saturated with images and information. As a photographer, what do you think of our toxic relationship with social media, and how have these platforms influenced your work?
Social media changes all the time and very quickly. It usually offers a small window where tit attracts nerds and genuine creatives, then money gets involved through likes and ads, making it feel disingenuous and even obsolete. That’s not to say people aren’t using Instagram in a creative way, but I preferred the days of posting anonymously on Tumblr or Flickr. In fact, I met most of my best friends through that medium. Sadly, I think that way of interacting online is almost nonexistent today.
What distinguishes a professional photographer from anyone who has access to a camera, as is the case today?
Anyone can take pictures and that’s the best thing! Art should not be something elitist or exclusive to people with fancy cameras and an art education. I’m all for everyone having access to cameras. Photography is strongly linked to our recent social history and it changes rapidly. Precisely because it is becoming more accessible, voices that were previously ignored are now being celebrated.
What has been the biggest challenge you have faced as a woman in the art world?
I’ve been fortunate to be surrounded by amazing women who have guided me through a world that I didn’t care about or knew much about before. I know that my experiences have been extremely privileged. Overall, my biggest disappointment is the lack of sexy men—they all take themselves too seriously.
Galería Hilario Galguera is the first gallery in Mexico City to represent you. How did you connect?
In London, Hilario saw my photo of the Mexican ants. We went for coffee, where I explained how much of my work felt intrinsically tied to Mexico, despite being physically in London. I talked about the sense of stagnation and sterility I felt there. Shortly after, he offered to work together. It was a significant moment, especially since I was pregnant at the time, marking an exciting new chapter in my life. Unfortunately, the pandemic disrupted everything.
You did a series called Mexico Sweeties Oaxaca Ants, and you’re working on another one based on the Day of the Dead and the colorful street markets. What attracted you to this country and how does it reflect in your work?
Mexico feels like the opposite of the British mentality—more emotionally open because it embraces death, decay, and life. In contrast, the UK feels like a small island full of fear and anxiety. In Mexico, you have space, and life feels less curated and more genuine.
Have you ever thought about moving to Mexico City?
Yes, I would love to. I would miss my mom, but that’s about it.
If you had to give one piece of advice to an emerging artist, what would it be?
Keep creating and do it for yourself. Expect to waitress for a few years—it’s okay, it’s part of the process.
How do you see your artistic style evolving in the coming years?
I would like to work with new media, starting with video, and eventually exploring sculpture.
Instagram: @maisiecousins
http://maisiecousins.com/x
Interview by: Sheilla Cohen
Photos: Courtesy of Maisie Cousins
