Upstairs at the Atelier: Artist Barry Sykes on Play, Purpose, and Seeing Differently

Barry Sykes has been a friend of the brand for years now. One of our upstairs neighbours in the art studios above the atelier, Barry brings warmth, humour, and a spirit of generosity to everything he does — whether that’s laughing yoga, creating work with Down syndrome families, or simply connecting fellow artists across disciplines.

We first met him through his “Animals In Wire” project and were instantly intrigued. Visiting his studio was like stepping into a small museum: drawers of pens, objects that looked ordinary at first glance, but somehow felt full of meaning. As Han put it then, Barry’s work reminds you that even the most mundane things can be seen through an artistic lens.

Since then, we’ve had the pleasure of collaborating — including on the wire-framed horse’s head that now hangs proudly in our Coal Drops Yard store, made from humble chicken wire and a shared sense of play.

He’s someone we deeply admire — not just for his creativity, but for the graceful way he approaches life. We sat down with Barry to talk about his practice, the value of curiosity, and what it’s like making art just above the sound of denim machines.

Hi Barry, can you tell us about yourself?

Hiya. I do lots of things, spinning many plates to try and make ends meet and satisfy my curiosities. That might be working on commissions, exhibitions, collaborations, events, collecting, gathering, or just doodling something on the corner of a newspaper. Since I was a kid I’ve always needed to make, drawing from my imagination, thinking with my hands, making things up. I’ve worked in the studios right above Blackhorse Atelier for the past twelve years, in a studio group of around twenty five artists. I’m in most days and feel very lucky to have it.

Can you tell us about your journey in art and where you are at with it now?

As I say, I always drew as a kid. In hindsight I can recognise that this private moment of control, solitude and playful exploration was always a special place for me. And if you draw a lot as a kid, becoming more skilful and comfortable at it, and know you need to keep finding time for it, then you just tumble forward into each stage, right through my teenage years until I think it was baked in and I had to try to pursue it for higher education. I also count my blessings that at no point did my parents try and talk me out of it!

Can you tell about your favourite piece of art in your house and what it means to you? 

We have a lot of art in the house, from bits I’ve made, swaps from friends, affordable editions, plenty of great stuff still in folders waiting to be framed too! And of course lots of the kids' work hung about the place. Favourites changes all the time, and I think the point of gathering all these things around you is to keep learning more about them, to decide they’ll accompany you through life’s challenges. Two current favourites might be some original works I was very lucky to get for not very much money when artists were selling off small works to make ends meet, myself included. I still pinch myself that I get to live with them. One is a little glazed ceramic of a drain cover by Matthew Smith, the other a sketch by Wilfrid Wood of his boyfriend sleeping. They both hang on our landing outside the bedrooms so I see them at the start and end of every day. I think I value most that they’ve taken very simple moments and given them such significance and a very moving awkward beauty in a quick, instinctive way.

How do you see design and what makes something an iconic design in your eyes?

I find I use a lot of design in my practice, in devising how people will interact with a work, how it’s presented and diplayed, making bits of printed ephemera to go alongside it. I love all these consideration about function and an inviting, engaging aesthetic, but I also relish art as a space where ‘good design’ doesn’t have to apply I sometimes do a workshop where we take Dieter Rams’ famous ten rules for good design – about all about elegance and efficiency – and work out how we can do the complete opposite to each one but still be worthwhile and useful.

Can you tell us what it feels like to be a part of the Blackhorse Lane / Walthamstow community of makers?

 For a long time we were the only creatives along this stretch of road, just houses and warehouses along Blackhorse Lane until about a decade ago. So we started off being very used to just hiding away, getting on with our work, with just a newsagent about half a mile away. Sometimes as an artist that’s all you need, but now we are at the other extreme, surrounded an all sides by cafes, bars, restaurants, gyms, and lots of other creative spaces and businesses. That can make things feel precarious for us but I’ve found that so many of these spaces are keen to support each other, with collaborations, assistance, advice, some of this developing organically and some of it coming via some really useful local community schemes. My work with you is testament to that too.

What would be your advice for young artists?

Don’t do it! Well, seriously, what I mean is that it is now a much harder landscape to be a professional artist than when I graduated twenty years ago. To find a way to discover opportunities, support yourself financially with your work, now that colleges, museums, arts centres, commercial galleries, even patrons are all under increasing financial pressures, from the cost of living, funding, inflation, Brexit etc. Because of this there is a cliff edge approaching where we may lose a lot of arts institutions very soon, and many of those are meant to be there to support artists as their careers progress. What I can recommend is that anyone can consider themselves an artist, no matter the amount time they have to make art, no matter if anyone else notices what you do. As long as you take what you do seriously, and seek out opportunities or connections – even just following someone on Instagram or telling someone what you’re doing – that start to make it public.

You created a horses head for us in the CDY store, can you tell us about the process of making it?

One of the plates I spin is what I call ‘Animals in Wire’, which is, perhaps unsurprisingly, life-sized animals made out layers of chicken wire. I started doing this straight out of art school to make a living and have now been doing it for nearly twenty five years! As you know, I’ve always been a big fan of what you do at Blackhorse Ateliers, as a clothes fan, detail nut, and by making our little industrial building world famous. As soon as I saw our studio’s zig-zag roof stitched onto the back pockets I was sold. Then after a few years of talking with Han we started sketching out an idea for a mannequin with a black horse head. There are quite a few engineering niggles to get it to work practically, but once we’d designed a good bracket for the neck I could start building up the structure and shape. I found the best way was to bolt it onto a swivel chair and work around it until it was done. The design was influenced by a lot of triumphal classical sculptures of horses, some from statues in London, others in Turkey, which nicely reflected your businesses heritage. 
And what a relief when I brought it to the shop and it somehow managed to slide in perfectly! I now love catching a glimpse of it from across Coal Drops Yard whenever I walk by.

I've become increasingly fascinated with the social side of drawing, how you remove yourself to do it, even in a crowded space, or how you connect with someone you're drawing face to face. I've been doing a lot of quick portrait work and love how it involves so much about stillness, self-awareness, and risk, but my love of clothes and patterns and detail meant I've been wanting to work up to full length figure portraits for some time, so when we got talking about them my mind dashed to the chance to draw you and your team. As I know you're equally interested in the shape and textures of the things you make, and treat the just-so selection of an outfit with great care. Sending my pencil off across the paper to capture the carefully constructed seams and folds and layers was a real pleasure. And the chance to spend time in the Atelier and draw your team as they methodically marked out, assembled and prepared the garments was wonderful to watch but also a treat to just sit and sketch from. You notice the intricate hand movements, the odd shapes in the equipment and machinery, the skill and concentration somehow held in the body language. Observing, and responding in the moment, is one of my favourite ways to work. It's been so interesting to follow each stage of the process the denim goes through, from the pattern cutting (drawings themselves!) to the shop floor. 

Can you tell us about your current projects?

I’m always happiest trying out new ideas, and finding out if anyone else sees anything in it. I only started doing this live portrait work last summer, but I’ve found it so fascinating. Just having a few minutes to be still, quiet, contemplative with someone whilst I draw them. So much going on about expectation, risk, connection. So many of the things I’m working on at the moment are about embracing a sense of failure, error or distortion. How a portrait will never totally capture someone but still be somehow valuable. I’m also doing drawing classes in working saunas, where the heat affect the paper, the pencil lead, how you draw, and the poses of the bodies you’re studying, as we all slowly melt. And I’m working on a range of other classes and workshops for a variety of groups including toddlers, art students, stroke victims and children with learning difficulties. And lots more besides, so do give me a follow on Instagram, where I put a lot of work in progress, if you want to see what this year has in store.

To learn more about Barry visit his site HERE.