Maayan Sophia Weisstub: The weight of memory and the levity of humor

Maayan Sophia Weisstub, a London-based multidisciplinary artist, redefines the everyday through works that disrupt conventional ideas of domestic spaces, bodies, and objects. Her recent exhibition, “MAMA SALON presents Maayan Weisstub,” used a home as the setting to reveal the hidden narratives that unfold behind closed doors. Works like a bruised bed and breathing light bulbs reshaped the familiar into haunting yet intimate experiences, urging viewers to confront the memories, emotions, and traumas tied to domestic life.

Weisstub’s practice spans kinetic sculpture, collage, illustration, and animation. Her breathing light bulbs, part of the “Let There Be Light” series, symbolize the fragile interplay of life and mortality, while her bruised bed addresses themes of vulnerability and scars that linger. Humor also plays a pivotal role in her work, as seen in her Gustave Courbet Christmas card, which reframes the human body with a playful yet subversive lens.

We spoke with Weisstub about how she brings life to inanimate objects and balances humor with deeper themes in her work.

Your recent show at MAMA Salon in London featured works like a bruised bed and breathing light bulbs, turning a home into something haunting yet intimate. How did you decide on these objects?

Maayan Sophia Weisstub: The works exhibited in the MAMA SALON exhibition were chosen by Art Mama and myself. The idea was to transform the exhibition space into a kind of conceptual home, to expose, speak, and provoke thoughts about our existence within the home, behind closed doors.

The works were selected based on the space; we wanted to position me as one would place them in a “regular” home—such as the battered bed in the bedroom with a wardrobe next to it (where the breathing light bulbs were hung), the impossible dining table in the room next to the kitchen, and so on. The placement of the pieces in the space was important, but so was the idea behind them in relation to the exhibition. The selected works address a broad spectrum of human experience—from the light bulbs exploring duality in human life to the bed, which speaks about difficult and abusive relationships that occur in the “safe” environment.

At times, when the sculptures were displayed alongside others, some visitors missed the breathing entirely. They passed by, perhaps assuming they were just static pieces of furniture or light bulbs. But once they stop and realize the breathing, they are often deeply moved, which is incredibly rewarding.

The reality of our lives naturally occupies my thoughts. A large part of what we experience happens within the walls of the home. A home has both practical and symbolic meanings. Over time, without rational planning, I see that I create works that fill a home space and create an imaginary place that holds hidden emotions, alternative observations, and thoughts. Missing from this current exhibition is a writing desk I previously exhibited, which, due to space constraints, didn’t find a place in the current apartment.

You’ve talked about how inanimate objects can hold emotions and memories. Can you share how you approached creating these pieces and the reactions they’ve received?

Maayan Sophia Weisstub: From a young age, I sensed that there was life beyond living beings and believed that inanimate objects also have their own form of life—one that we cannot fully comprehend. After conducting research, engaging in discussions, and reflecting, I realized that one way in which the inanimate is alive is through the emotions and memories we project onto them. In doing so, we transform them into monuments that hold our moments and sensations.

I sought to bring objects to life in various ways. My first attempts were through animation, where stones, pillows, and other inanimate objects appeared to breathe (about ten years ago).

In 2021, for my graduation project at the Royal College of Art, I revisited those early animations and brought them into the physical world. I created my first kinetic sculpture, “Mneme,” which features a table, a glass of milk, a chair, and a book—each of them breathing in a calm yet uncoordinated way.

In 2024, I created “Let There Be Light,” in which the light bulbs themselves breathe, and the light within them follows the same rhythm. The reactions to these breathing works have been overwhelmingly positive.

At times, when the sculptures were displayed alongside others, some visitors missed the breathing entirely. They passed by, perhaps assuming they were just static pieces of furniture or light bulbs. But once they stop and realize the breathing, they are often deeply moved, which is incredibly rewarding.

The bed represents a different form of communication for the memories and emotions we connect to objects around us. It addresses the traumas we experience—bruises that will heal, but also the scars that remain long after the wounds have closed.

This is not a consistent language that simply repeats itself. Instead, each situation, object, or structure generates its own unique language from the depths of my subconscious. The creative process is conscious in part but only partially.

The map on the table, the selected book, and the bed frame each hold a memory—my own, collective memories, emotions, and much more.

Your work often uses humor, like the Gustave Courbet Christmas card you’ve shared on your Instagram, to make us rethink how we see the body. What is it about using humor in this way that feels important to your practice?

Maayan Sophia Weisstub: I enjoy incorporating playfulness into my work because it’s a part of who I am. Just as I create conceptual pieces that provoke thought or stir emotions, I also appreciate making works that bring a smile and communicate a simple idea directly. Often, we view our bodies critically, forgetting that we are living beings. By seeing ourselves as nature, shapes, and textures, we can shift our experience of the world in a healthier way.

While I try not to let the digital space dictate my creative process, I use it as a platform to reach a wider and more diverse audience.

Humor is, in my view, a powerful way to communicate and lighten subjects we might avoid, simply because we’ve been conditioned to look at them in a certain way. It allows us to express controversial ideas without harm and offers new perspectives, often surprising us.

At its core, humor resonates with me. It makes me laugh, and I love to laugh.

You’ve mentioned that sharing your work on social media can feel liberating but also comes with challenges like censorship. How do you decide which works belong online versus in physical spaces?

Maayan Sophia Weisstub: I upload almost all of my work to Instagram, and for pieces that include nudity, I add censorship (although this doesn’t always help with Instagram these days). Unfortunately, my account has been shadow-banned in recent years as a result, so my page doesn’t reach new people and growing my follower base has become more difficult.

The question of which works go online and which are shown in physical exhibitions also depends on other factors. As I mentioned, I share most of my work on my website or social platforms, but I also exhibit in physical spaces.

Some pieces, like paintings, sculptures, and kinetic sculptures, offer a different experience when encountered in person. Their slower pace and the attention they require don’t necessarily align with the quick consumption of content on Instagram or other platforms today. Digital collages and videos, however, work both online and in physical spaces, and I’ve noticed that these works tend to receive more shares on Instagram. While I try not to let the digital space dictate my creative process, I use it as a platform to reach a wider and more diverse audience.

You’ve said you’d love to create a parallel reality combining AR and VR with physical installations. What kind of world would you want people to step into?

Maayan Sophia Weisstub: I think I mentioned this in a previous interview, but right now it feels less relevant to my current work. However, what I meant at the time—and perhaps I’ll revisit it in the future—was the idea of almost complete control over the viewer’s experience. I wanted to immerse the viewer in a reality where I shape the space, the sound, the sensations, the smells, and so on.

The experience at the MAMA Salon exhibition was, to some extent, aligned with this concept. Although not through VR or AR technologies, it created a space with a different kind of reality—a more immersive experience than simply viewing a piece on a white gallery wall.

Featured image: Maayan Sophia Weisstub. MAMA Salon. Photo courtesy of Daniel Jackont.