The following piece is published as part of our TLM Young Writers series, a dedicated section of The London Magazine‘s website which showcases the work of exceptional young talent aged between 13-21, from the UK and beyond.

Adelaide Ng


Diana Copperwhite: ONOMATOPOEIA


With interests spanning musical notations, digitalisation, and the aesthetics of data alike, Diana Copperwhite is an artist who seamlessly interweaves elements of the natural world, the scientific world, and the artistic world through her work. She is equally curious as she is creative, and she is admirably ambitious in her artistic undertakings — there is always more to uncover in each of her pieces.
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We spoke to Diana about her artistic process and more at Flowers Gallery where her ONOMATOPOEIA is currently on display.
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A lot of your paintings appear to be quite fluid and dynamic but there is also a consistency with the vibrant spectral band patterns. I’m very intrigued by your experimentation with colour and structure. How would you describe your style of art?
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I’d describe myself as a painter, first and foremost. My work is, categorically, abstract because I see the world as abstract — I’m always looking at angles, structures, shapes, and how things intersect so it’s genuinely how I look at things. When I create paintings, I’m interested in many different strands of thought so I’ve created a notational system, the harmonious colour bands. The spectral bands become something that anchors the amorphic, gestural dynamics of the backdrop; they’re steady forces that create the tension of the composition. They are largely inspired by my interest in musical notations (they’re designed to resemble musical staffs), the globalisation of the contemporary world, the pictorial diagrams of quantum mechanics, the light spectrum and how it fragments (but through a poetic lens). And I’m very interested in the fact that we view the world through screens, in a sort of retro reality. The idea of who decides what is important and worth sharing intrigues me. In a sense, my work is sort of a reimagining of reality, and it encourages people to reinterpret the information that is given to them. As a whole, I intend for my paintings to be very physically present, organic but also sensual.
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I read that you often pull images from the internet and take your own photographs before unifying them onto the canvases. Can you tell me a bit more about your artistic process and how these massive oil paintings come into fruition?
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I collect images from everywhere — I take photographs all the time, of situations, of places I’ve been, of things that seem meaningless but also of things that mean a lot to me. Or I’ll pull images from the internet and magazines. Then I print them all out and I create collages. Alternatively, I draw lots of sketches that, essentially, are little notes for myself. Usually, when I’m painting, I have a base skeleton of ideas, which I then layer different elements on top of. It’s a whole process of addition and subtraction of paint, mathematically speaking. Sometimes I rely largely on the collages and drawings, but otherwise, I dispose of them entirely and the process becomes completely autonomous.
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I love the idea of the small framed portraits with blurred faces. Can you explain the concept and the intention behind creating these?
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I see the big paintings as prose, and the miniature portraits are punctuations within that. They’re created to be small and succinct but they break up the wider narrative. At the same time, the blurred, fragmented faces of the human become part of the fabric of the painting, with the spectral bands flowing through all of them. The idea behind the blurring was inspired by my fascination with molecular biology: how we are unable to truly perceive what goes on inside anyone’s body and minds. In effect, the blurring removes their definitive identity because the paintings are really about everybody.
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I also interpreted the portraits as pixels of the larger paintings, which in turn became an amalgamation of the portraits.
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That’s a really interesting way of looking at it… I am really intrigued by the degradation of digital imagery. Again, the amount of trust put into digital media is remarkable, because we genuinely consume it as if it is the truth. Whereas in reality, there are always gaps and glitches. In fact, the spectral bands are designed to resemble the glitches on television. Even in terms of physics and the speed of light, by the time we look at something, there’s already been a delay. We don’t truly see things in the moment because there is no such thing as the absolute moment. I think the delay is a very fruitful, poetic space for art to operate. So yes, the portraits can operate as pixels.
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These portraits are rather miniature in comparison to the large-scale canvases you usually work with. Was the experience of creating these portraits different? It seems to be more meticulous and would require more intentionality.
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Yes of course, with the larger canvases, it actually feels like you’re painting a room. It’s somewhat theatrical. You’re afforded more space to move around. Once you feel something is overworked, you can just shift to a different area. Whereas with the smaller portraits you have to be absolutely certain and succinct — there’s only one element of focus.
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You’re from Ireland, a country with very idyllic landscapes. Does the natural world inform your work in any way? Some of your paintings really remind me of sliced-open slabs of minerals.
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Well, I think you can’t help but be affected by what’s around you. Pertaining to nature, I’m always reflecting on the idea that nothing lasts very long, things fall apart. The landscape truly embodies this: you see growth, you see deterioration.
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In the promotional video for this exhibition, you describe your work as an overlay of sensory experiences, with music playing a very specific role in aiding your painting process. What is the relationship you see between art and music?
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When I’m painting a different style, I need different music. It’s almost as if the structure of the music is influencing the paintings to some degree as well and I guess my pieces are sort of like soundscapes as well. It’s difficult to quantify but I think I let go and I allow the two to affect each other. In the past, I had to separate the two because I wasn’t ready for the music to invade the art because it does happen to some degree. But I’ve learnt it’s a good thing.
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I’ve also done a performance piece with a cellist in the past. We’re going to do it again and take it further. There’s something about the mellow tone of the cello and the physicality of playing, with moving the bow, that compliments the art.
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Some artists use their works as commentaries of society, some artists view their works as mirrors for people to introspect, and some artists create works to evoke specific emotions in their audiences. Can you tell me about your artistic intentions behind this series as a whole?
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I do want to communicate through my art but I also want to unveil the realities of a digitalised twentieth-century world through abstract expressions. Because I think while most art documents the era that it’s made in, above all, it’s a way for artists to deal with the reality they find themselves in. 

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Adelaide Ng is a student at Brown University. She writes about the arts, fashion, and music.


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