Roundtable: Meet the 2024 Artlab Editorial Fellows

To kick off the 2024 Artlab Editorial Fellowship, we conducted a roundtable discussion on the role of writing within the ecosystem of art with Fellows Olamiju Fajemisin and Kira Xonorika, Advisors Andrew Russeth and Charlotte Kent, and Artlab Editor Shannon Lee. A testament to Artlab’s mission to foster global connections, participants dialed in from around the world to share their insights on how they write, who they write for, and the evolving landscape of art writing in an increasingly globalized world.

Shannon Lee: I’m curious to know how everyone on this call sees the role of the art writer in reflecting and influencing cultural shifts. Can you provide an example of how each of your respective writing practices have connected with local art practices, but have also rippled out?

Olamiju Fajemisin: I’ve always felt very concerned about the implications of my position as an art writer. I always felt like it was a huge responsibility, particularly where markers of identity are involved.

Your voice as a writer becomes this kind of broadcasting tool. You’re expected to speak for many people, while at the same time articulate your own position. I think that earlier on, I found that balance quite difficult to strike, particularly as I felt pulled into different corners as to who I should be writing for or how I should be constructing my arguments; whose sympathy am I trying to gain?

Kira Xonorika: Writing is like pointing your finger at the wind; it’s about understanding the temperature, the velocity, and the speed of the current.

A few years ago I wrote a piece for e-Flux that reflected on the works of Latin American trans artists. It was a piece that tried to understand how representation in media has impacted judicial frameworks, and how you would see this exchange across these two sectors. To me, that kind of analysis is very interesting. You realize that there are common themes in different spheres and that culture is really influencing everything. It’s a feedback loop.

Similarly, I approach writing with a focus on community to address gaps in understanding about artistic practices. As Olamiju said, writers have so much responsibility to create nuanced perspectives that shed light on overlooked issues.

In focusing my writing on new media art, for example, I’ve seen how it’s been democratized for gender-expansive communities and for people who live in more isolated contexts. There’s a common thread that transcends geographical boundaries: orientation. Writing, for me, is about these generative spaces.

Andrew Russeth: You both touched on very interesting things. Olamiju, you said you want to serve as a voice or a mouthpiece for the project you mentioned. And Kira, you talked about this idea of correcting misunderstandings. I’m curious about your intended audiences. Who do you picture out there in the world when you’re writing?

Olamiju Fajemisin: I try not to think about my audience for the sake of my nerves. It’s easier to produce when I’m not focused on who will read it. But depending on the type of art writing, you’re going to reach vastly different audiences and numbers of people, which impacts style and scale. I have a general idea of the readership of the art magazines I’ve written for, but I try not to let that dominate my process.

As Kira mentioned, feedback loops are useful in this context, because my ideas often bounce off people I’ve been in dialogue with whilst preparing the text. There’s a lot of rebound and reverb. I hope this process isn’t too interior-focused or limiting, but rather a source of knowledge production in itself.

Kira Xonorika: It’s similar to how I approach my art practice: I generate and people will come and read. I am aware of who my readership is, but like Olamiju said, I don’t feel constrained by that. For me, I really want to write for people who will empathize.

Charlotte Kent: It’s interesting hearing both of you say that. Andrew, your question made me realize that every time I write an article, I’m writing it for someone specific—someone I know. It varies, but often, depending on what I’m writing, there’s someone in mind that I want to say something to.

Either I want them to know something, think about it differently, or I’m writing on their behalf because we’ve had conversations, and I know they won’t say it themselves. While I’m writing, I’m thinking and talking to that person, creating a weird intimacy they may not even be aware of.

That said, I also write for myself. The pieces I like most often start with being angry about how something is being discussed. Though I might not express anger in the writing, it’s often the source. Then, I temper it, finding the best examples to share and aiming to shift the discourse.

Andrew Russeth: I’ve been grappling with this recently, which is why I was curious. I find I tend to write to find out how I actually think about something. When you start, it can be frightening.

I want to show my fidelity to an artist and an honesty about their work without becoming a PR agent, while incorporating my own ideas. It’s a tricky balance, but you’ve both managed it nicely in your work and pitches. It’s something we all have to grapple with sometimes.

Olamiju Fajemisin: Listening to everyone else respond, I wonder if, despite our different answers, we share a pursuit of authenticity, which feels like the ultimate, continuous task of writing.

Charlotte, listening to you speak, I’d say I do actually have someone that I’m in conversation with when I write. That person, however, is myself. I might not necessarily agree with or have the same opinion on something five years later. But if I can look back on something I’d written and think, “Maybe this was naive, but I still agree with myself,” then I would say I achieved what I wanted in that article, regardless of who reads it.

Kira Xonorika: I can relate to so many of the things you all said, especially about anger triggering writing. It’s such a catalyst, and it boils like a volcano. When I think about the reader, I think about it as a mycelial connection. A point might connect to something from my hometown, but also spread across many other ecosystems. It’s that ripple effect that goes on and on.

Shannon Lee: Kira and Olamiju, I’ve picked up on a strong sense of relationality in both of your writing practices. While your specific lenses are deeply rooted in your individual identities and experiences, your processes are far from insular—it’s clear that both of you are in constant dialogue with your surrounding mycelial networks, to borrow Kira’s metaphor.

With that in mind, I’d love to know what the role of research is in all of your practices.

Kira Xonorika: Research is vital for me because it helps me understand the implications of the specific time I’m writing about. What was that time and space like? How was it confined, and how was it liberated?

Reading Black Quantum Futurism by Rasheedah Phillips was so vital for me because she says that to approach liberation, you need to understand the conditions of confinement first. My writing has adopted that approach. Research helps me understand patterns and how they repeat. It helps me see connections between different things and how data can make voices heard.

Olamiju Fajemisin: I think I have a rather embodied relationship to research, in that I fill my life with activities that qualify as research but also bring me a lot of pleasure—whether it’s going to exhibitions or listening to music or reading as broadly as possible.

I feel that research is also just a conversation. It happens when you don’t realize it. Maybe it becomes research once it’s used for something. I try not to be strict about what qualifies as research or what I can include in my writing.

Charlotte Kent: To keep extending this metaphor, research also acts as a mycelial network, feeding and supporting whatever I’m discussing, whether it’s an artwork, an artist, a project, or a moment. Things come together and then disperse again. In presenting all the different strands that contribute to an artwork or a moment, I hope to show how these elements dissipate and create new forms. I’m interested in how things come together, form something new, and then disperse, continuing to evolve.

Andrew Russeth: Everything everyone said is really resonating. Sometimes, it’s the tangential stuff that matters—the things happening around the main subject. When I do historical writing about older artists, I look at the surrounding context: who was the mayor, what new laws were passed, and other relevant details. I try to visit the library or look up old newspapers.

I once wrote about Tehching Hsieh, an amazing Taiwanese-American artist who once locked himself in a cage in Tribeca. To research, I decided to dig through the archives to read about all the things that he was missing during those months. As much as we can, we should get outside the narrow focus of art history and show how exciting life is

Kira Xonorika: Yes—our response to life at the end of the day is about uncovering the layers of what is happening right now.

Shannon Lee: This Fellowship is designed so that each Fellow is paired with a mentor or Advisor who will be their point person throughout the duration of the fellowship, helping to expand and craft the three essays.

Kira, you were paired with Charlotte, and Andrew, you were paired with Olamiju. I would love to know what each of you is looking forward to in this partnership and collaboration.

Olamiju Fajemisin: What specifically drew me to this Fellowship was the openness of form we’re invited to produce. In traditional arts publishing, there are very specific categories that limit you. I’m really looking forward to experimenting with these forms with someone who has a wealth of experience in the industry.

Andrew Russeth: We often deal with very fixed forms and tight deadlines. Being able to be expansive, experimental, and multi-part is something that rarely happens. Watching you think through how to approach this will be exciting and, hopefully, edifying for me. I’m hoping to gain some inspiration from you as well. I feel like I’m going to learn so much.

Kira Xonorika: I like to think of writing as painting. What texture will this have? What will be the coloring? And also, how do I want to feel in the end? I’m looking forward to an iridescent process.

Being able to build a mentor-mentee relationship is very special because you get to be intimate and vulnerable about what you’re thinking about with someone else. I like being challenged to bounce ideas back and forth. I’m also excited to consider things I haven’t considered before—things that weren’t on the roadmap. Having the opportunity to be mentored by Charlotte is a big privilege and I look forward to it.

Charlotte Kent: For me, it was actually something Kira just said—thinking about something you hadn’t considered before. That’s one of the really gratifying experiences of working with someone else on writing.

I’m really excited about the perspectives both of you are bringing. I’m eager to learn things I don’t know about, and my challenge will be to think about what I can bring, what I can offer, and what I need to learn. Going back to research, why else would we be doing this if not to discover new things and think about them? This also ties back to the idea of community building.

Art writing touches more people than we sometimes realize. That means being in a community to help more writing happen and more perspectives get out there. Especially in the context of art and technology, in which I’m immersed, we talk a lot about global and community aspects, but actually doing it is crucial.

Olamiju Fajemisin: As an addendum to Charlotte’s last point: the opportunity to do this cannot be understated. The amount of time that goes into preparing to write something—the research we were just describing—is a huge privilege. We’re given the chance to actually take the time and explore questions that have been between the lines, no pun intended, of all our previous writing. We haven’t had the chance to sit down and stare into the sun a little bit. Who knows what might come out of that? Having another set of eyes and another brain to tell you that you might not be looking at something or that you should look this way instead is such a privilege.

Shannon Lee: I love that this conversation really disrupts the notion of the writer as an isolated person in an ivory tower. It demonstrates that this is an engaged, community-oriented, and embodied practice.

Thank you for all the work you’ve done and for your really exceptional applications. I’m really looking forward to seeing what comes out of this year’s Fellowship.

About the 2024 Artlab Editorial Fellows

Olamiju Fajemisin

Olamiju Fajemisin (she/her) is an art critic. Her writing has been published by outlets including Artforum, Frieze, Flash Art, and Mousse Magazine. She has also produced exhibition texts and catalog essays for a number of international galleries and institutions such as Gladstone Gallery and Haus der Kunst. She has been an editor at Zurich-based publication PROVENCE since 2018. She studied at the Courtauld Institute of Art, London and the Sandberg Instituut, Amsterdam, where she won the Holland Scholarship.

Kira Xonorika

Kira Xonorika (she/her; they/them) is an artist, author and futurist whose work explores connections between technoscience, sovereignty, temporality, world-building, and magic. She’s received awards, residencies and fellowships by Dreaming Beyond AI, Momus and Eyebeam, the Salzburg Global Seminar, and Ars Electronica. Her work has been exhibited at the Ford Foundation Gallery, Vellum Los Angeles, and arebyte Gallery London, among others. Her writing has been published by e-flux, Momus, the GenderIT journal, and Cambridge University. In 2024 she spearheaded the first GenAI art residency based in South America, the Future Memory Lab, supported by Pro Helvetia.

About the 2024 Artlab Editorial Fellowship Advisors

Shannon Lee

Shannon Lee (she/they) is a writer and editor covering art, culture, the environment, and Asian diaspora. They are the current editor of Artlab Editorial in addition to The Amp at Asian American Arts Alliance. Previously, she was an Associate Editor at Artsy and Editor and a Senior Producer at Silica Mag. For their first piece for us, Lee reflected upon Choe U-Ram’s “Little Ark” at MMCA Seoul, questioning how we define progress—both cultural and personal.

Charlotte Kent, PhD

Charlotte Kent (she/her) is Associate Professor of Visual Culture and Head of Visual and Critical Studies at Montclair State University. She is co-editor with Katherine Guinness of Contemporary Absurdities, Existential Crises, and Visual Art (2024, Intellect Books) and an Editor at Large for The Brooklyn Rail with a monthly column on Art & Technology, contributing to many popular magazines and academic journals about the intersection of contemporary art and digital culture. In 2022, Kent wrote “Embodied Broadcast,” a review of Nancy Baker Cahill’s “Slipstream Times Square” for Artlab Editorial. A recipient of Google’s Artist and Machine Intelligence grant, the inaugural Scholar-in-Residence at NXT Museum, and former member of the Board of Governors for the National Arts Club, where she founded the Artist Fellowship, she is committed to service across the field.

Andrew Russeth

Andrew Russeth (he/him) is an art critic and editor at Artnet News who has contributed to a variety of international publications, including Artforum, the Financial Times, Bijutsu Techo, Blau, and ArtReview. Until recently, he was based in South Korea, where he wrote about artists MOON & JEON as well as BTS leader RM’s support of contemporary art and artists for The New York Times. Ahead of the inaugural edition of Frieze Seoul, Russeth penned “The Artlab Guide To Seoul” for Artlab Editorial’s readers. In 2019, he was awarded the Rabkin Prize for visual arts journalism.