The

Art

Bay

Artist Rene Mati: "This story is about what, if anything, saves us"

Rene Matić’s, Many Rivers, 2022. 'I have found home in my dad’s skinhead roots, because once upon a time, identifying as a skinhead represented unity between Caribbean and British culture.’ Photograph: Courtesy of the artist

A video following their father, Paul, a black skinhead, is the centerpiece of this young trailblazer's solo performance; it is cheerful, emotional, and unexpected.

The far-right statement "Born British Die British" was tattooed on the back of the teenage artist Rene Mati two years ago. They then asked one of their idols, the renowned street photographer Derek Ridgers, to create an elegiac black-and-white shot of them, and the words flow over their muscular shoulders in a delicate typeface. His early work with skinheads in the 1970s and 1980s caught a brawny tribal spirit often fueled by extreme ideologies. The slogan becomes much more than a battle cry for oppressed white males when it is inked on a Black lesbian body. According to Mati, "[the tattoo] was always about the transitional periods between being born British and dying British." That is the main theme of my tale, I said.

Skinhead culture is "the perfect metaphor for talking about West Indian and white working-class culture — my culture," according to the artist, whose origins are when white and British Jamaican youth danced together to ska and reggae. The theme of the 25-year-first old's significant solo exhibition of their video, photography, and sculpture, Upon This Rock, at the South London Gallery, is the skinhead emblem. Crosses and flags, the primary symbols of nationhood and religion, are also true.

"My whole life with my dad has been tortured by the ambiguity of his past" -Rene Matić

However, one of the main topics of the show is how common people search for, utilize, and even overthrow these constrained symbols. It is a philosophy that is encapsulated in the title of Mati's 35mm photography series, flags for countries that don't exist but bodies that do. This series is an ongoing record of their life, in which identity shifts constantly, from their wife Maggie's fabulous outfits to their nephew Rudi's childhood interests.
Paul, the artist's father, steals the show in Mati's astounding first film Many Rivers, which handles his harrowing, raw existence with a gossamer touch. Paul, an unlikely Black skinhead, was originally introduced to local skins in his hometown of Peterborough after being motivated by an older white stepbrother. But this is not even close to being the most remarkable thing about Paul. His thorny identity crisis dates back a long time, starting with the institutional bias that kept his father from his white Catholic mother, whom he never met. Abuse throughout childhood, care facilities, drunkenness, and the widespread lack of opportunity in a failing "new town" have all had an impact. The mystery of my dad's history has tormented my whole relationship with him, says Mati. I went out to understand his tale for both of us, not necessarily to convey it.
The video might have been depressing to watch as it explored family members' often sad memories and images of abandoned housing projects and dilapidated churches in Peterborough. Instead, it's exuberant and moving, interspersed with liberating, humorous, and compassionate moments: Paul's joyful dancing on an otherwise dull backstreet while obviously enjoying the camera, his sister's support, and his overall appeal as a storyteller. The crux, as the artist notes, is the victory and survival of a working-class diaspora.A sculpture installation that plays with the image of the crucified skinhead and features bronze Christs that were inspired by the apostle Paul proclaims him as a victim who has the ability to be saved and raised from the dead. In the movie, when Paul discusses becoming a skinhead, "his face lights up for the first time: suddenly, he has a purpose," according to Mati. This narrative explores the causes and effects of pain and suffering as well as what, if anything, ultimately protects us.Three more pieces...

Rene Matić’s ‘Destination/Departure’, 2020

Photograph: Courtesy of the artist and Arcadia Missa gallery

Destination/Departure, 2020

“This was partly inspired by earlier photographs of fascist tattoos Derek Ridgers had taken,” says Matić. “I wanted to insert myself into that narrative. I came across Derek’s photos [of skinheads] when I was younger. I think I was searching for myself, or my dad, in that scene. His work was instrumental in me understanding my culture, identity and position – and opposition.”

Rene Matić’s Maggie in Orange, 2021

Photograph: Courtesy of the artist and Arcadia Missa gallery

Maggie in Orange, 2021

“This is one of many photos of my wife, Maggie, and their ever-changing hair, which acts as a marker of queer time in this series. The exhibition explores how faith has presented itself to me and the people I love. Here, the way Maggie is represented is reminiscent of a kind of holy spirit. My gaze is that of pure love and belief."

Rene Matić’s Maggie in Orange,’ 2021

Photograph: Courtesy of the artist and Arcadia Missa gallery

VE Day Skegness III, 2020

“This was taken during the 2020 lockdown when Skeggy came out in full patriotic force. I had been isolating there with my wife and hadn’t seen another person of colour for three months and was feeling the weight of it. It felt like a dystopia, like some Get Out shit. One day, I’d been accused of stealing a parcel I was carrying. I stole some flags – which were everywhere – instead. This is me, understanding that gaze.”

Thanks to at The Guardian whose reporting provided the original basis for this story.

Privacy PolicyTerms and Conditions
Copyright © 2026 The Art Bay