Photography by Julien Lallouette.
At just 26, Charlotte Rose has already carved out a distinctive place in the contemporary art world by doing what many artists dream of – making the familiar feel dangerous again. The British artist, who taught herself to paint while pursuing creative writing, has built a practice around dismantling the very imagery that surrounds us daily: the logos, packaging, and branding that promise everything and deliver something else entirely.
Rose’s canvases pulse with the vibrant colors of consumer desire – but look closer and you’ll find subversive text and symbolism that expose the hollow promises of advertising. It’s a bold approach that has caught the attention of both the art world and the brands themselves, leading to collaborations with luxury houses like Gucci and Coach, even as her work fundamentally questions the culture they represent.
From exhibitions spanning Austin to London, Rose’s paintings occupy a fascinating paradox: they’re simultaneously seductive and critical, beautiful and unsettling. In our conversation, she opens up about the contradictions of her practice, the challenge of critiquing systems while participating in them, and why nostalgia might be the most powerful tool in an artist’s arsenal.
Image Courtesy of Charlotte Rose.
Svenja Glintschert You’re simultaneously an artist and a model. How do these two roles inspire one another? How has being both an artist and a model shaped your perspective on consumerist culture?
Charlotte Rose When I first moved to London, I actually wanted to be a novelist and was studying literature and creative writing. I was modeling on the side, which meant that from the age of 18 I was suddenly in rooms with some of the best creatives in the industry – photographers, make-up artists, creative directors. I’m curious, so I asked a lot of questions, and through those conversations I learned about what came before the moment I was living in: the icons of the 60s, the references that shaped culture. It shifted me onto a new trajectory towards making art.
Being both an artist and a model constantly feeds my perspective on consumer culture. I like to play with the idea of Instagram and the new kind of “celebrity” it creates. Warhol said, “In the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes,” and we’re living that reality right now.
Charlotte Rose – the model, the sexy girl who paints. It isn’t really me; she’s a character I use to propel the work. She allows me to satirize the late-stage capitalist society we’re in, obsessed with glossy packaging and a nostalgia for a lifestyle that was never real to begin with.
Photography by Charles Cave.
SG Your Marmite jar painting features real Instagram comments about your work. What made you decide to paint digital comments about your work directly onto your work itself?
CR The jars were a tongue-in-cheek ‘fuck you’ to the faceless criticism (and positivity) I’d get on my artwork on social media. It was never that serious – I enjoy comments on my artwork, good or bad. Just like Marmite, my work seems to draw both positive and negative reactions. It was a way for me to mentally reframe so that every time a bad comment came in, I read it gleefully and added it into my notes app, preparing for the Marmite painting.
It was a reaction to the fleeting soundboard of social media. I liked the fact that the artwork itself was painstaking – painting 12 Marmite glass jars took a long time – and the message is so petty that I found humor in it.
My favorite comment is: “Knock-off Warhol garbage, but you look great, don’t push it.” I might put it on a t-shirt.
SG One comment reads ‘I’m too broke for her paintings but they fire.’ Do you see it as contradictory to create art about consumerism while simultaneously participating in the art market?
CR Hahahaha yes.
SG You’re using your own experiences as source material. Can you tell us about a specific moment that inspired one of these paintings that you are showing in the exhibition?
CR It’s cliché, but my paintings are better when I’m in some sort of emotional turmoil. My work is always satirical – I’m never taking myself too seriously. I think it’s my British sarcasm.
I got dumped last year and I painted two camels walking side by side on a Camel cigarette packet with the tagline: “Don’t desert me.” It came from actual pain, but the work was irreverent and sarcastic, and that energy really reflects who I am.
Image Courtesy of Charlotte Rose.
SG “All my art is in some way about other art, even if the other art is cartoons.” (Roy Lichtenstein). Can you relate to that quote?
CR Definitely. I’ve always believed that no idea is ever truly unique – the world is an echo chamber of humans constantly responding to what’s been put in front of them. It’s so rare to stumble upon something wholly original. Art inspires art, and we’re all products of our influences.
Roland Barthes wrote about this in The Death of the Author (1967), where he argued that every text is a “tissue of quotations,” drawn from what has come before. I think the same is true of visual art – everything is in conversation with the past, whether it’s Shakespeare, Warhol, or even cartoons.
Good artists copy, great artists steal, and all that.