Meet Nicola Roos | Sculptor & art museum intern

We had the good fortune of connecting with Nicola Roos and we’ve shared our conversation below.

Hi Nicola, what role has risk played in your life or career?
To be honest, I’ve always had a somewhat apprehensive relationship with taking risks. It could be attributed to my neuro-divergent disposition, where I find comfort in patterns and routines, as they act as my safety net. Or perhaps it’s rooted in some trauma, given my upbringing was marked by independence, the idea that relying on anyone but myself might be futile. This mindset is a result of growing up in an environment where I was conditioned to believe that if I wanted something, it was solely up to me to make it happen.

For instance, during my high school years, my single mother lost her job and could no longer afford my education at the institution I was attending. An opportunity arose for me to apply for a scholarship, which I pursued. However, it was a demanding endeavour, akin to a “sell your soul at the crossroads” situation. I was expected to be the ‘entire package,’ an all-rounded student who stood out from the crowd. To maintain the scholarship funding until graduation, I had to excel in A-team sports, develop leadership skills, participate in various extra-mural clubs, and even take on roles such as school newspaper editor, yearbook photographer, student council executive committee member, and debate club chair. (As I recount these achievements, I can’t help but recall my absent father’s frequent one-liner: “are you bragging or complaining?”) In this case, it’s probably a mix of both as I share this rather elaborate reflection on my approach to risk-taking.

You see, I have an innate need to try to anticipate and control every possible outcome in a given situation. I’ve always believed that things will work out the way I need them to because I’m the one steering the ship. But a few years ago, a significant incident in my professional career shook my confidence to its core, and it’s taken me an agonizingly long time to regain trust in myself and my work. I began to harbor a deep-seated feeling of inadequacy. Despite my tireless efforts and relentless determination, many doors I knocked on just kept slamming shut. Suddenly, sheer hard work no longer seemed sufficient. This led me to question if it was me falling short in some way, an unfamiliar feeling that lasted far longer than it should have.

Recently, a friend shared the story behind his tattoo of a scallop shell. He recounted how, on a soul-searching pilgrimage hike through Europe, he kept encountering scallop shells in various rural towns, deserts, and hills, used as markers along the journey. When you look at a scallop shell with its base closest to you, it appears as if all the lines fan outward, symbolizing the idea that there’s not just one right path in life, and you must grant yourself the freedom to choose your way. However, when you look at the shell from the opposite direction, with the base farthest from you, it seems as if all paths lead back to the same point. No matter where you go or how you choose to navigate your life’s travels, you can’t escape what’s meant for you.

This lesson has taught me the importance of occasionally taking that leap of faith and plunging into the unknown. Regardless of where you stand, you’re on the path meant for you, even if it’s just there to teach you which turns you should avoid.

In essence, risk-taking has become a crucial aspect of my personal and creative growth, a reminder that sometimes it’s necessary to embrace the unknown to find what’s truly meant for us.

Let’s talk shop? Tell us more about your career, what can you share with our community?
The other day, someone asked me about how I handle criticism, and I thought it’s high time to share the unvarnished truth here, rather than crafting some inspiring response that might be expected in this context. To be honest? I cry. I cry quite easily and quite frequently. There’s this constant feeling that I’m not doing enough, even when I’ve pushed myself to the limit. Perhaps it’s the influence of Millennial hustle culture, that nagging guilt that perpetually lingers, reminding you that every moment must be used with maximum productivity. So, I’ve channeled my past experiences into my sense of humor. When I receive criticism, my initial reaction is a little cry, but then I turn it into humour, often sharing jokes about it on the internet. Getting to where I am today was undoubtedly challenging, but I believe the journey is far from over. I don’t want to rest on my laurels and claim that I’ve “made it” because one of the most frightening prospects for an artist is stagnation, the fear of hitting a creative plateau. I live with the dread of becoming one of those artists known for producing the same style of work for decades on end. While the art world often emphasizes the importance of repetition and brand recognition, I’d prefer to keep pushing myself and creating art when I’m truly inspired to do so, rather than churning out replicas of past successes just to meet market demands. My hope is that this approach will set me apart from other artists of my generation.
Balancing the need to make a living with staying true to my creative vision can be challenging: at the core of any endeavour, creative or otherwise, lies the necessity to generate income for survival. Through this journey, I’ve come to understand that it’s more challenging to convince others of the value of your work if you don’t genuinely appreciate it yourself.

If you had a friend visiting you, what are some of the local spots you’d want to take them around to?
Oh, dear. I assume I’d have to do this for LA, right? So… there might be a small hiccup… I’ve never been to LA. In fact, I’ve hardly ventured beyond the borders of South Africa. It’s been a rare occurrence, only twice, in my 29 years of life… Well, once, if you don’t count that time I dashed across the border into Botswana from my dad’s game farm on the banks of the Limpopo River, which separates South Africa from two neighboring countries. During the dry season, it was possible to simply scurry across the sandy riverbed and suddenly find yourself in entirely new territory. It was a thrilling adventure for kids growing up in the middle of nowhere in the early 2000s.

The first proper journey was when I was ten years old, winning a children’s art competition. I was chosen as a representative of South Africa to travel to Greece, joining young artists from other selected countries during the 2004 Olympic Games. At this point in my life, my artwork has traveled more extensively than I have! I’d absolutely love to visit LA, especially after my solo exhibition at Simchowitz Gallery in Downtown LA this past June. If I ever make it there, can I be your best friend, and can someone reading this show me the time of my life? I’m game.

Shoutout is all about shouting out others who you feel deserve additional recognition and exposure. Who would you like to shoutout?
This is quite a complex one. As I mentioned earlier, I’ve always felt that I had to rely solely on myself to shape my destiny according to my needs. Paradoxically, those who played a role in teaching me some of the toughest life lessons have also profoundly contributed to where I am today. I’d say, to a degree, I’m motivated by a certain defiance.

I’ve arrived at this point in my journey because of my father, who stopped supporting my education when I chose to pursue the arts instead of following the expected path into STEM, which he himself had taken. I’ve reached this point because of the gallery owner I worked for part-time during my university years, trying to scrape together extra funds to cover my art materials, which my student loans hardly supported. She became the first person to take an interest in promoting my work and even exhibited it at an international art fair for two consecutive years while I was completing my undergrad. However, things took a turn for the worse when she decided to withhold payment for a sale, leading to a lengthy and painful legal battle. This taught me the value of standing up for myself, especially when faced with exploitation by those who saw me as an easy target.

I’m here because of my mother, from whom I rented space after university to establish my practice, but was subsequently asked to leave after about six months, forcing me to accept help from others. I owe my journey to all those who promised opportunities that never materialized, as their broken promises compelled me to keep knocking on doors until the right ones finally opened.

I’ve made it to this point because of those university lecturers who had no faith in my abilities and told me that the only way I’d succeed in figurative sculpture was to cut my works into pieces with a chainsaw and exhibit the dismembered fragments. My journey also involves a studio assistant who manipulated my sympathy to get out of a mess she created for herself, only to vanish from my life once I’d served her purpose. To her, I say thank you for teaching me how to establish healthier boundaries.

But I’d also like to extend gratitude to those who persevered and walked this path with me for many years. My colleague, Matt, who’s been with me since my early attempts at self-motivated projects during the last two years of my undergrad, has stood by my side through all the trial and error as we navigated the art world’s deep waters after I completed my studies.

I’m thankful to the collectors who saw potential in my work during its infancy and chose to invest in an unknown young artist – Griselda Hall, Arnold Lehman, Lady Linda Wong Davies and Howard Bilton. To the gallerists who decided to take a chance and showcase my work, even when it didn’t align with prevailing tastes and market trends, I’m truly grateful. And to the investors who helped me learn the art of playing the long game, you played a significant role in keeping my studio doors open during those crucial early years when I was trying to make my mark in this field.

Giving credit where it’s due is important. I want to acknowledge the support I’m receiving from my father now, even after years of no contact during my formative years. It feels like things have come full circle, and I’m truly grateful for having some of what was denied to me as a teenager. I’m also appreciative of my mom’s efforts to make amends, despite the challenges we’ve faced.

I must also extend a heartfelt thank you to my recent friendships – the people who have patiently listened to my venting about the job’s stresses and celebrated with me during the highs; this is exactly what I’ve needed. A special shoutout to that one friend who consistently reminds me that my biggest hurdle is self-doubt. They encourage me to see myself from their perspective whenever I find myself in situations where I lack the confidence to set boundaries or ask for what I truly desire. Thank you for believing in me when I don’t even believe in myself. You have no idea how much that means to me.

Website: https://www.nicolaroos.com

Instagram: https://www.instagram,com/roosnicola

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/nicola-roos1994

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/nicolaroos.studio

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@kurobozu

Other: Tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@kurobozu

Image Credits
Simchowitz Gallery Ever Gold Projects