Meet rising star and OTS cover artist Conor Rogers
Conor greets the photographer and I enthusiastically as he pulls up in his blue Skoda outside his Bloc Studios base on Arundel Street. He leads us through an intriguing courtyard to his relatively new studio, double the size of his previous space as he experiments with different compositions and scales.
Conor greets the photographer and I enthusiastically as he pulls up in his blue Skoda outside his Bloc Studios base on Arundel Street. He leads us through an intriguing courtyard to his relatively new studio, double the size of his previous space as he experiments with different compositions and scales.
As we enter we’re greeted by a playful toddler in a paddling pool affixed to the wall, a workman firing tarmac on a canvas of ice pops and several works in progress constructed entirely of Rizla papers. A metal table is crammed full of paints, brushes, glues and jars, with a packet of cigarettes teetering precariously on the edge.
Throughout our introduction the award-winning Sheffield artist waxes lyrical on all manner of subjects, from the roots of his latest work to his particularly exhausting gym session just prior to our meeting. Gregarious, warm, philosophical and generously open, we spend the next hour getting to know the rising star from the once notorious Manor council estate whose work has graced both the Saatchi Gallery and Off the Shelf’s 2024 brochure cover.
Tell us about your childhood on the Manor estate and how it influences your work?
I grew up with two loving parents and three brothers, and we moved around a lot before ending up on the Manor. I would visit my grandparents home in Darnall at weekends and it was very multicultural so my mates were from varying backgrounds. The Manor was more white British, what you might call a stereotypical British council estate. In both areas I always felt like I was on the fringes – none of it really resonated with me. Most my age would be doing what normal kids do but a minority chose to be wannabe thugs, hanging on street corners or joy riding cars in the field. I always felt separate – I would be off on a skateboard or going for a walk. Don’t get me wrong, I did get up to no good sometimes but never anything illegal. The influence is there whether you realise it or not.
The culture was very paradoxical. You’ve got what was an area of high criminality, known for its harsh, violent and impoverished environment. A lot of people abandoned and left without support and access to new opportunities. Many ended up in prison or worse. That exposure to precarity and danger instilled a readiness for life in me and a strong drive. But the reputation that it brought was unfair on the vast majority of people living in those areas. There was a real sense of community, a strong sense of pride and a genuine openness between people. We may have been isolated as a community, but not within the community.
The culture embedded itself within my identity. Even before I’d ever considered art as something you could do, there was a visual language there that I used to try and find meaning. I’ve always had a poetic way of interpreting what was going around me, even before I understood what it was. I remember being fascinated by the images that I encountered, whether it was someone leaning over a fence to chat with a neighbour with a ciggie hanging from their lips or a lamp post flickering on a dark street.
When did you realise that you wanted to become an artist?
I’d say it was probably in my second year of university. I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do with my life but I knew I liked art and I was good at it. It felt like a specific type of creativity where I could ingrain who I was into a particular vocation or career. In my second year I really got hooked on the theory and the contemporary aspect of it. There was nothing that I felt really represented me, or the thing that I represent within the arts. I also felt a stubborn responsibility, almost a defiance, to pursue it. People from my area didn’t study art – it wasn’t something that we did.
Art can sometimes be seen as elitist and difficult to break into. As an artist from a working class background, what barriers did you face and how did you overcome them?
It wasn’t until I was at university that someone said to me that I was working class. It was something that I’d never identified with. I just knew that some people had money and others didn’t. My work is about reframing narratives associated with the type of environment I grew up in. These environments of people – we’re all just people. We’re very sensitive people, very loving people and in some ways very content. We’re not just this harsh and dangerous stereotype that we’re often condemned as. I want to see beyond those stereotypes.
People from my background can often feel imposter syndrome in art. There’s a feeling of having to prescribe to a stereotype in order to fit in or to completely mask the identity to avoid judgement. I felt like that idea formed a sort of activism in me where I’d try to present a really authentic view of who and what I represent.
But there are definitely barriers to working class people in the arts and this can lead to a sense of fear or insecurity which perpetuates those barriers. This can cross class boundaries too, almost like a fear of being found out. People have an idea that things in the art world should be a certain way. But we also understand that pursuing creativity is a meaningful purpose in life. You know, we’re all individuals here, creating a culture of bravery, risk-taking, and embracing the uncertainties of being artists.
I do feel that the narrative needs to shift. It’s not about charity, it’s about inspiring and empowering people to do something they don’t think is accessible to them. What a working class artist produces can be both works of art and working class works of art art. It’s not mutually exclusive.
When you were approached to create Off the Shelf’s brochure artwork, what was your reaction?
It’s always an honour for me to be involved in anything cultural in my home city. I love trying to put Sheffield on the map. And the team came out to see me in my studio and there was a connection – I could tell they saw value in my work. I’ll be honest though, I’m not a big reader. I can sit there and read the same paragraph over and over and over again. Don’t get me wrong, I know how to read in a technical sense but I can find the structure in novels difficult to get on with.
That’s why I like poetry, which I use to write about my work. It’s about my interpretations and I employ metaphorical language. I guess I find it less conventional in structure and form. I love making art because it’s a metaphysical process where you’re pulling something into the world and you’re the one who brings it into reality. It then exists beyond you and it’s for other people to interpret. The same can be said for poetry, literature and many other forms of creativity. I know it sounds cliche but I’m just a vessel for it.
The Off the Shelf piece, as well as being the cover art, now hangs supersized outside Millennium Galleries. Where did the idea come from?
I wanted to capture the environment which I associate with reading and literacy. I Immediately went to two places. One was memories of my dad, with a huge A-Z unfolded and spread out over the dash as we tried to find our way somewhere. The other was my girlfriend, reading in the car with her feet on the dashboard. Initially I was going to base it all around the A-Z, harking back to a time long before Google Maps. It brought to mind ideas of getting lost and finding your way through life. But I was taken with the intimacy of the idea of my girlfriend immersed in a good book – she’s an avid reader. Ultimately both ideas won through.
I think it’s a direct and instinctive reaction to books and reading, but at the same time geography, memory and nostalgia in the materials I’ve used, and also intimacy in the form of the space and the person.
One of your pieces, Lady from Mars, features the first British person to go to space, University of Sheffield alumni Helen Sharman. What inspired the piece?
Helen’s Sharman’s story really moved me. I’m interested in all these people that have left their mark on Sheffield. Growing up I wanted to be Michael Palin! Helen’s story and connection to Sheffield deserves recognition and ties in well with what I was doing for my exhibition at the time, Creative Connections. I was just really excited about her story.
Another key point within this work was that she worked for Mars as a chemist at the time she won the opportunity to study to become an astronaut, hence the ironic title from national media ‘Lady from Mars’.
As well as discussing your art, you will be reciting your poetry at this year’s festival. What Off the Shelf events in particular are you looking forward to?
The Unfinished Harauld Hughes – with Richard Ayoade
Developing as a Poet: Poetry Workshop – with Joey Connolly
The Impossibility of Words: A Linguist’s Cure for Writer’s Block – with Dr Jodie Clark
We are Monument: Decolonising Public Spaces – with Yuen Fong Ling