How Yasmina Atta is channeling surrealist African cinema through her graduate collection

“In Nigeria, we have deities ingrained into the culture, and I wanted to reference the importance of this mystical element and not in a Western way that people may perceive when looking at Africa, but for the untold narratives and credo that is so constitutive in daily life.”

For Yasmina Atta, the adage is doubly apt, rousing a collection that had literal wings, born out of laser-etched trimmings. “I wanted to capture the mysticism of my Nigerian heritage,” she digests over her final-year collection. “In Nigeria, we have deities ingrained into the culture, and I wanted to reference the importance of this mystical element and not in a Western way that people may perceive when looking at Africa, but for the untold narratives and credo that is so constitutive in daily life.” Between tawny leather wings and hoof-like structures, Atta is referencing the impact of African surrealist cinema she grew up watching as a child, from Sengalese film to the sobriquet, Nollywood. “Everyone used to watch Nollywood movies; they have really bad special effects and over-dramatic people throwing up snakes or something.”

“I felt like I wasn’t keeping up with everyone; for the teachers, it was always about technical stuff and so I lost interest. I feel like I wasn’t actually good at it.”

Finding her creative footing didn’t come as easy as expected for the designer who moved from Lagos to London aged eleven, attending an all-girls school. Despite rendering an ethereal degree-collection, her introductions to fashion deviate from the customary ‘I always knew…’ parlance, to a cursory stint at painting – “I felt the skill overtook me over as the years kept going by,” – a somewhat sagacious child. With an interest in art absent within her family and trips to galleries truant fantasies, Atta kindled her fascination elsewhere. “It was more in the classroom that I began drawing stuff,” she remarks. “I was really shy and I didn’t have many friends so people would ask me to draw stuff and that would be really exciting.” But in a cycle of verbal reproval, Atta was met with discouragement throughout her creative endeavours. “I felt like I wasn’t keeping up with everyone; for the teachers, it was always about technical stuff and so I lost interest. I feel like I wasn’t actually good at it.”

Overlooking their hesitation, Atta became enchanted by the prospect of working on the body. An unexplored terrain in her work, her curiosity was timed with the soaring accessibility of the internet, citing the cosmic network as the stimulus for her interest in fashion. “It’s quite a different introduction to fashion, compared to generations before us,” she speaks of the digital catalyst. “Just having that access to like crazy archives from a young age. I began asking myself more questions; what do I want to look at?” Embracing the utopianism of the internet’s manifold archives, Atta, commencing her diagnostic foundation year at CSM – much to her teachers’ surprise – began traversing the use of sculpture, a form that lends itself to her voluminous collection. “My interest in fashion was always separate from looking at things and observing.” Her creative process, as a result, is quite a systematic one: “I divide my research into different parts, from mood, color, shapes, and then I start to make and drape. I surround myself with loads of images related to the theme and mood. But I don’t go back to it too much. It’s more about having the memory of it and trying to build on from that.”

“I don’t really engage with the whole Instagram thing too much. I feel like I have a hard time believing that it means anything.”

In a kinetic collection dedicated to honouring the mysticism harnessed through her upbringing, Atta’s stimulus was the need for physical motion, in a period that feels featureless and stagnant. “Movement was so important to me; particularly as I looked at so many moving-image references from films, to create these futuristic robot characters with mystical shaman figures, exploring the process of transformation.” The latter is a harmonious thread throughout Atta’s work, often articulating a liminal space; a middling ground merging her two cultures. Citing the works of scholar and critical theorist Homi K.Bhabha’s ‘third space theory,’ the notion of feeling in between, Atta captures the intermediate mood through motifs of traditional Nigerian doctrines to the modern crafting techniques of motorised accessories.

“I also want to encourage doing things at your own pace.”

While Atta delights in this dichotomy between ancient and modern, heridament and automation, championing her heritage is integral to her vision. “It’s always important for me to support where I’m from and show that creativity exists in our culture and who we are; not just within me. I also want to encourage doing things at your own pace.” It comes as just one of the ways in which Atta perceives there to be a static feeling within the fashion industry, “I feel like there’s pressure to think that you have to do shows, or you have to do every single collection. It’s too stale and still too nostalgic for the ‘90s,” she offers. “We’re not actually that diverse; even in terms of new talent, it’s always people from specific schools. It’s still quite exclusive.” 

“I have everything I need already. You don’t need to change. You already have it, it just needs nurturing. It’s always about being honest in your work.”

To Atta, a sustainable future isn’t simply subject to zero waste pattern cutting or an investment in transeasonal clothing. Rather, it’s induced through an irrevocable shift in the whole mechanism: from the responsibility of social media, the scheduling of the calendar, to the support for young designers. In admiration of Australian designer Jordan Dalah, whom Atta assisted in her first year, she was able to witness the changes beginning to take place, diversifying the geography of the industry by building a brand from Australia. “He’s proof you really don’t have to be in London to make it work.” Reflecting on her fashion education, Atta, in her usual affinity for juxtaposing concepts, coins her experience as “a draining but interesting one. You learn so much from just being there: the learning doesn’t always have to be direct.” On parting her advice to new students, Atta remains forthright, heeding her own advice as she, once again, becomes the new student joining the esteemed MA programme this November. “I have everything I need already. You don’t need to change. You already have it, it just needs nurturing. It’s always about being honest in your work,” arguably the most sustainable value of them all.