Flora Deborah is a nomadic artist by origin and approach. During her young life, she moved often, experiencing different conditions such as wakefulness, sleep, and illness. Each time, she brought with her something new, the result of deep-rooted traditions and a conception of magical-ritual life that has accompanied her since childhood. In her recent works, ranging between drawing, painting and sculpture, we find personal narratives and collective mythologies revisited in the name of subversion and a female perspective.
Flora Deborah, courtesy of the artist
Daniela Cotimbo: Potresti essere definita una creatura errante: You could be defined as a wandering creature: your path starts from France, continues first in Italy, then in England and today you live in Tel Aviv. The same can be said of your practice: you started by studying photography and now you dedicate yourself above all to drawing, painting and sculpture. How does this condition fuel your work?
Flora Deborah: I come from a family of immigrants, I often struggled against my cultural heritage. The multilingual environment at home felt overwhelming, and I desperately wanted to identify solely as Italian, or more specifically, Milanese. As I grew older, I found myself following the footsteps of my parents and relatives, embracing a similar path. While I initially sought a sense of belonging and roots, I eventually realised that home is something internal, residing within us. I think that this awareness led me to appreciate and value my cultural background a lot more. I believe that the constant experience of uprooting fuels my curiosity to empathise with others, to ask questions and to delve beneath the surface. Similarly, in my artistic work, I often experiment with different materials, exploring not only how I can manipulate them but also how they can influence my creative process.
Flora Deborah, “Bianca e Quercia”, 2023, pastels on paper, courtesy of the artist
You also know the stopping moments well. I was struck when you told me that at a certain point drawing came as a liberation. Could you explain better what you mean?
Between 2019 and 2020 I was bedridden due to Lyme disease. I contracted the illness in the spring of 2018. Unfortunately, it went undiagnosed until major symptoms arose: this allowed bacteria to penetrate deeper layers of my body, including my brain. For a long time I slept up to twenty-two hours a day. When awake, it was tough, but as my eyes fluttered open, my imagination whisked me away to surreal worlds where I led an incredibly active life. Gradually, during these brief waking periods, I started jotting down my dreams and doodling. Until then, I hadn’t allowed myself to draw much, too caught up in what a contemporary artist should or shouldn’t do. Surprisingly, illness, while challenging, released me from the pressure of pleasing others with my work. Nowadays, I create what I want. If people connect with it and it stirs emotions, that’s wonderful. If not, that’s okay too..
Flora Deborah, “Riding the wave”, 2022, soft pastels on paper; “Palme Allergiche”, 2023, oil on canvas, platinum, ceramic magnets, courtesy of the artist
In your work you often start from pre-existing narratives, be they paintings, magical-ritual objects, biblical stories or archetypes which you reread sometimes reversing the sign. What is the profound meaning of this approach?
I enjoy giving different interpretations to things, searching for hidden messages, and sometimes inventing them when none are apparent. This approach not only defines my life philosophy but also influences my work. I create historical or fictional characters, but also include animals, plants, and microorganisms in my work. When it comes to stories from the Bible, I enjoy flipping the script. Like, instead of focusing on the main characters, I’ll dive into the lives of lesser-known female characters and tell the story from their perspective. Similarly with rituals.
Flora Deborah, “Witches of Maccabi”, 2022, performance, courtesy CCA TelAviv
We were talking about how rituality has always been part of your intimate world. One of the recurring figures in your work is that of the witch, in turn, the object of re-signification thanks to the work of scholars such as Silvia Federici. Can you tell us about the time you went to your doctor’s office to stage an atonement ritual?
About two years ago, I participated in an artistic residency at the CCA in Tel Aviv with a group of friends. Our project aimed to create a series of performances in the city, where each of us invited a limited number of people, creating an intimate and difficult-to-repeat situation. The projects culminated in a publication featuring texts written by the guests. My performance took place in front of a medical centre where I often sought answers during my illness. At the time, my healthcare provider repeatedly diagnosed me with hysteria and prescribed anxiolytics and antidepressants without realising the severity of my condition. As I began to recover during the residency, I decided to make my ritual a catharsis. I invited two performers and recreated a tableau vivant of Salvator Rosa’s painting ‘Witches and their Incantations,’ dated 1646 and now displayed at the National Gallery in London. This painting, with great irony, portrays the rituals performed by witches on the Sabbath. That night, we used a range of objects, we held each pose for about five minutes while simultaneously drawing from life. As part of the performance, we drank a cocktail-potion made with some of my medicines from goblets I created myself in ceramic, a small homage to life and to the perception of being seen as witches..
Flora Deborah’s studio in Villa Lena, courtesy Villa Lena Foundation
What mainly attracted you to your residency experience at Villa Lena?
I believe it to be the ideal setting to create: a villa with a breathtaking view and a studio five times larger than my usual space. For the first time, I was able to paint on a large scale. Furthermore, the people I met during the residency were not only incredibly talented but also kind-hearted, which made the experience very special. I mustn’t forget that unfortunately, when I started the residency at the end of September, the war in the Middle East also began. Villa Lena offered me refuge, embracing me in a moment of difficulty.
Daniela Cotimbo
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