CJ Wagstaff speaks to UK duo Kaan K and Angela Christofilou, variously of Cypriot and Greek heritage, about their new exhibition of photography and poetry in Machynlleth; their wider creative practise of drag and activism; and how they want to pose questions about gender, race and place.
The Land Isn’t Binary And Neither Am I is a powerful collaboration between poet Kaan K and photographer Angela Christofilou that explores what it means to exist in the margins. Running for two months until mid-January and housed in the Pulpit Room at MOMA Machynlleth, this multimedia undertaking draws tangible connections between place and identity, with Kaan K’s striking poetry paired with lens work by Christofilou.
Supported by funding from Arts Council Wales, the exhibition offers a poignant reflection on life in-between. I meet with the artists on the eve of their launch to discover what visitors can expect from the show.
“Angela took some pictures of me getting into drag… it must have been six years ago,” says K, sitting close to their friend and collaborator. The pair are video-calling from K’s home in mid-Wales: the poet co-organises drag nights and workshops in the area, alongside their craft. The pair have a long history of documenting this transformation together: in 2019, K’s metamorphosis into their drag act Tarkan appeared in The Independent, with photos by Christofilou.
“It was really interesting to revisit that,” they say, “but this time it felt more relevant to actually be in the drag, having this conversation with the place I’m living in now.”
“It’s a continuation,” offers Christofilou. The new project, comprising just eight poems and eight photographs by the pair, builds on their established body of work to explore rejection of personal and cultural binaries.
“My family are from Cyprus, which is an island that’s been split down the middle as a result of colonialism,” K tells me. “It’s presumed to be these two very distinct, separate things, but actually, the land never asked for that. The land is far more complicated and rich than that.”
The written work is available in Turkish as well as Welsh and English, allowing deeper engagement with the project’s themes. Reflecting on their poetic practice, K says, “I don’t have a formal background in creative writing. It doesn’t follow a strict form—it often reads like a stream of consciousness. When I read it aloud, it feels like me.”
“I can taste them and smell them,” says Christofilou, who is half-Greek, referring to the poems. “They’re real – the carpets, the smell of the cooking. It’s something I don’t get in London, but that’s how I feel with these poems.
“It’s really interesting having an exhibition where poems are in the exhibition space. We’re thinking a lot about how that’s going to be shown and giving space for them to sit alongside the photographs.”
When our exchange turns towards their composition process, K shares that their poetry often emerges in response to sensory stimuli – vivid, concrete images imbued with personal or cultural significance to the artist. Rosewater, figs, coffee, and their grandmother’s transplanted vine tree flow in evocative succession, forming fresh connections with K’s new environment.
“There’s lots of my grandparents in it, including this plant,” they tell me. “The leaves are edible. You use them to make dolma.” In text as well as image, then, the vine tree becomes a visual metaphor for K’s sense of generational displacement, evolving, in a sense, into a potent symbol of belonging.
“I thought a lot over the years about all four of them having to flee Cyprus,” they say. “Not only was it a transition from one culture to another, but it was also a transition from a rural setting to a city.”
“When you move to another place,” adds Christofilou, “you take your roots with you, and you plant them into another land. So, the tree symbolises what it means make another place our home – how we nurture and how we grow in different spaces.”
Using medium format film for this project (“it’s tricky – you only have 12 exposures, so the process is a lot slower”), Christofilou’s photography draws inspiration from, and engages directly with, the poems, adding a rich visual layer to K’s work. I’m curious about the intention behind the photos: does she have particular moments in mind as she shoots?
“I wanted it to be as candid as possible. I let Kaan be in the moment, in the action. But I wanted them to look powerful and strong, so I often shoot from below.”
Christofilou’s primary creative practice resides in activism, human rights and protest photography, with a large selection of her output archived in London’s Bishopsgate Institute. However, as this effort demonstrates, her interests run much deeper. “I photograph my communities, my friends, their individual narratives. I think it’s very important to know the people that you’re photographing – that’s the only way you get authentic stories, by asking ‘what are the stories of the people around me?’ With Kaan, it was just a natural part of our friendship to be able to share stories through photographs.”
K agrees. “I think our friendship has grown through creativity. They bounce off one another. We create things together, then we get closer as friends, then we create more things together.”
“It’s something we’ve always done,” says Christofilou. “Sometimes, I feel like you have a love language with friends – one of our connection points is making things together. We bonded through covering Trans Pride for The Independent. For years, Kaan would write about it and I would take photos, up until they told us that they didn’t want to send us out to cover it… but that’s a different interview!”
At which the three of us laugh – but the implication of worry falls over the conversation. All these years later, the pair are just as committed to platforming and advocating for transgender lives, and with so much negative visibility occurring, it feels more vital than ever. In light of this, I ask K if there’s anything they feel particularly vulnerable about sharing.
“Everything feels vulnerable,” they tell me candidly. “It’s interesting – it just goes back to these weird beauty standards that we place on ourselves, and society places on us. As a Middle Eastern person, I have relatively rounded hips; that, for me has always been at odds with this white, western idea of transness, which is very…” Here, K uses their hands to perform a swift downwards chop in the air in front of the camera, demonstrating the straight lines associated with archetypal masculine physique.
“I feel insecure about it sometimes – but lots of cis men also have hips! It’s a beauty standard that none of us are meeting.”
A central pillar of the work is a display board, situated in the Pulpit Room, which invites visitors to engage with questions about gender, place, race and belonging. These questions prompt the public to reflect upon topics that they may not have critically considered before.
“We kept the exhibition quite simple,” says Christofilou, “but we wanted to find ways to make it feel closer to people. I want to try and find ways where exhibitions use spaces to open up conversation… so we’re going to open it up.”
Audiences will be encouraged to participate by writing down their own responses and affixing them to the board. As K elaborates: “It will be growing and changing over time. And the key thing is that you don’t have to be trans. I just want to encourage everybody to think about those things, think about how gender has a bearing on all of our lives. And I hope that the photographs and the poetry will inspire that in people.”
Kaan K & Angela Christofilou: The Land Isn’t Binary And Neither Am I, MOMA Machynlleth, until Sat 18 Jan
Admission: FREE. Info: here
words CJ WAGSTAFF
