You only began sculpting in your 50s, after raising four children. Did you feel like you were starting late?
I actually thought that my fifties was still early, but then again, it started as a hobby. I didn’t expect to do what I’m doing today. Because I began sculpting as a hobby, I was able to fail, learn from mistakes, and laugh at them. I persevered! So whatever age you are, I don’t think it can ever be too late.
Your work is often described as quietly radical. Do you see what you do as a feminist act?
No, I don’t think so – at least not consciously. ‘Follow what you feel inside’ is what my advice would be: it’s your soul that tells you what to do. I don’t plan for my work to have a deliberately feminist message, because when I’m working, it all comes from within.
FAITH is the title of your new book and body of work. Faith in what – yourself, time, material, or something more intangible?
I work from within, from the soul. In the same way, I want anyone who sees a book called FAITH to find something of their own that speaks to them, a faith or belief or dream. Bringing up a family is an act of faith. Deciding not to get stuck in the same routine and branching out is an act of faith. Whatever you believe, it’s faith if it comes from deep within you. The book is a subtle reminder of that.
This is your first book. Why does FAITH need to exist now?
The world is going through such an upheaval. Even without getting into politics or finance, everything’s becoming so tense. Your phone’s feeding you information that the brain can’t deal with. I’d like the book to bring people back to earth, to what’s inside them. That’s what’s certain, even if nothing else is.
You work with Nubian sandstone collected on the Mediterranean coast. What does this stone give you that other materials don’t?
I was walking on the beach, watching people picking up shells, and I saw those stones in the sand; they seemed to speak to me. They made me think about what those stones would look like in a completely different environment, how people would experience them elsewhere. In the beginning, people were skeptical, but I thought, ‘No, Ahuva, get on with it. What do you believe? Do it.’
So it happened accidentally, really, I was trying to express what those stones communicated to me when I saw them. But if I go looking for stones, I never find the right ones!
Is there a moment in the studio when you know a piece is finished – or do you stop because you have to?
There’s no ‘have to’. I try not to touch the shape or surface of the stone. Though I usually carve stones, for this series I didn’t file or break them. When I’m happy with a piece I leave it alone – the more you interrupt its nature, the more it loses its magic.
You’ve exhibited alongside artists like Tracey Emin, David Hockney and Sir Peter Blake. Did that kind of recognition change anything for you?
I have huge respect for all of these artists, but it doesn’t change the way I work. You need to be individual and always create something different, which was why I decided to evolve from working with clay to working with stone. I’m never trying to imitate anyone else or even repeat something I’ve worked on. When I do something wholeheartedly that comes from the soul, I finish it quickly. It becomes something I want people to see.
You helped revitalise Brick Lane and the Truman Brewery into a creative hub. How important is it for artists to build culture, not just participate in it?
I was influenced by the East End before I even started sculpting. The whole East End is a work of art: the walls, the buildings, the roads, the cobbles… If there’s art in your soul, it’ll inspire you. I’m inspired by mountains and trees in the same way. If art is something you appreciate, you can walk through the streets and hear them talk to you. Hopefully more artists will come and leave their mark.
How important is it for artists to claim physical spaces in cities that are constantly being redeveloped and sanitised?
It’s a difficult question, because something like that isn’t just your own decision. Especially in places that are historically important, it needs to be valid and valued by the people around you: even if you’re an artist you can’t just put up anything you want. A big piece of graffiti in the centre of London might look beautiful on its own, but I doubt it’d look authentic to the part of the city it’s in. The East End is more versatile. You can do sculpture, or painting, or anything that’s different. It’s an environment where creativity doesn’t clash with the nature of the place.
East London has always been shaped by outsiders and late bloomers. Do you feel part of that tradition?
I’d love to think so. I’ve loved the East End since day one, because it’s got an atmosphere. Even if you’re not an artist, if you walk there, you feel different. And if people enjoy what I’ve contributed to that environment, it gives me even more pleasure.
Do you think the art world is genuinely more open to women now?
Women aren’t listening to the ‘no’ anymore. You don’t need to ask permission, and I’m surrounded by successful women in this field, people like Barbara Hepworth and Tracey Emin. I actually think that women might have an easier time tapping into what’s within, whereas male artists can be more physical. Nothing should stop you if you’re a woman.
East London is clearly part of your DNA. Where do you go in the area to eat, hang out, socialise, and feel inspired when you’re not in the studio?
I get inspired just walking around. I’ll try any restaurant that looks good and has a buzz, because as you walk you discover things that you’ll be surprised by. There’s so much variety of cuisine here, so many little places, and that’s something I love that the East End offers.
What do you hope someone feels when they close FAITH for the last time?
I’d like them to feel at peace and leave their stress behind. I feel you can open the book to any page, rather than reading from start to finish, and still get something beautiful out of it.
If you could speak to your younger self, what would you tell her?
‘You did well. You did what you needed to do. There’s always a right time that things happen in, so don’t push, and don’t fight, because things don’t happen when you fight.’ I don’t regret starting sculpting when I did, because I wouldn’t have been ready if I began earlier. The right mindset and medium came to me at the correct time. My philosophy’s that everything happens for good reason at the right moment.
For anyone starting out later in life, or beginning quietly while the world tells them it’s too late – what would you say to them?
When the world said that to me, I smiled and thanked it for its advice, but my mind was made up. I knew I was going to try and that I would succeed. If I want to do something, I’ll go on ahead, because even failure teaches you how to move on to the next thing. We’re not born geniuses, so you’re allowed to fail and persevere and not let the world say no to you. I tried my best, and that’s it.