HANNAH TILSON FOR SCRT®

At Hannah Tilson’s studio you’re greeted by a wave of creativity, colour everywhere. Pencils, pigments, brushes, and bundles of cloth gather in joyful clutter. The Creative Uniform® jacket blends in seamlessly having taken on Hannah’s persona in the tufts of fabric spilling from the pockets, pencils sticking out, paint marks and sketchbooks, from a blank canvas now an extension of her as an artist.


We asked Hannah a few questions about her practice and how she’s finding the Creative Uniform®:

Tell us a bit more about yourself and how you started?

I’m Hannah Tilson. I am an artist based in London. In my studio I’m currently painting, drawing, printmaking, and making installations. Alongside my visual work, I sing and play the trombone.

I studied in London at the Slade and the Royal Drawing School, and did an exchange programme at the New York Studio School. 

The work I’m making in the studio at the moment draws directly from what I began exploring in New York in 2016. Back then, I was creating large cut-out doll figures and setting up immersive, interactive environments—almost like stage or film sets. Collaging with space.

Studying at the Royal Drawing School was a turning point for my work and was the moment I started incorporating figures with faces into my paintings. Moving away from these more ghostly cut out dolls where only the outfit was being painted, I began painting self portraits. Figures became embedded within fast-moving “patternscapes”: kinetic environments built from layers of pattern. They flicker in and out of focus — sometimes swallowed entirely by fabric, other times revealing glimpses of a face or hand that pulls the viewer back to reality. The Royal Drawing School helped me keep up a strong studio work ethic and I uncovered the core of my work. It was where I first learned to make distemper paint using raw pigments, which has become a central part of my practice.

Now, I’m really enjoying merging everything I’ve developed in the years since art school—the bold, cut out world I was immersed in at Slade—with the more subtle, translucent qualities of the distemper works. I’m currently building a more physical installation world that can be experienced in tandem with the wall-based pieces, extending the visual language into something spatial and performative. It’s exciting to see how these two worlds can coexist and inform one another.

Is there anything in particular that drew you to your work?

I’ve always been drawn to colour, pattern and clothes. As a child, I’d help my granny in Scotland sew clothes and I’ve been working with my hands for as long as I can remember. It’s not a part of me I can switch off—I am compelled to make.

Alongside my studio practice, I teach children’s drawing workshops at the National Gallery, run a summer printmaking course in Salzburg, and assist another artist for one day a week. Each of these roles feeds different parts of me creatively, but they can also pile up, and when I can’t get to the studio, everything else starts to feel off—physically and mentally. It’s like a craving I can’t quite name, that sense of something feeling missing, a part of myself that’s suddenly absent. It’s something I talk about often with friends: the pull of the studio being magnetic. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I’m always thinking about how what I’m seeing, hearing, or absorbing will eventually find its way into the work. That’s what it means, I think, to be an artist— never fully switching off from what’s around you.

Can you talk us through the process behind making your pieces?

I work on multiple pieces at once. It’s how I keep myself from overworking my paintings and also keeps my brain fresh and fizzing in the studio. I also paint on suits and wear them during my openings/important events, almost becoming one of the paintings and camouflaging into them as I move past. 

From a young age, I always loved films, acting and the theatre. During the first covid lockdown, like many artists, I wasn’t able to be in my studio and was away from the world that I was used to making work in. I began to set up theatrical sets in my room, dressing myself up in patterned costumes and creating large patterned still lives. I then drew from films made in the space. This is the initial process I now follow before making any body of work. 

Any artists/creators that inspire you?

The Peggy Guggenheim collection in Venice is home to some of my favourite artworks. Her bed frame was made by Alexander Calder and she has one of Magritte’s more tender paintings ‘Empire of Light.’ I also love the work of Domenico Gnoli. Closer to home, I’m looking forward to Rachel Jones’ new exhibition at the Dulwich Picture Gallery. 

I feel lucky to be part of such a generous creative community and surrounded by so many inspiring artists. The London art scene feels particularly alive right now, with artists openly sharing thoughts and ideas, rather than squirreling them away.

I also try to go to the cinema once a week. I find the cinema to be one of the only places left where I feel truly undistracted!

How have you found working in the Creative Uniform®?

I love functional items. So a functional jacket is the dream. Pockets are everything to me. The vast array of pocket sizes got me excited. It’s rare to find a jacket that you can comfortably fit in a sketchbook AND a book (and various other items). I also love the red thread detail. It’s well made and feels like it will last - which is a total necessity for a uniform! It feels made to be worn and used.

All time favourite film/album?

Like many others, I have a soft spot for the Beatles. I have strong childhood memories of driving around America around the year 2000 in a rental car with my parents, listening to The White Album on repeat. The CD player was in the boot, so every time we wanted to switch tracks, we had to pull over, climb out, pop the trunk, and physically change the disc. It was a strangely ceremonial process, handing sacred goods.

Film - I have a soft spot for ‘Tampopo.’ Juzo Itami’s ‘classic ramen western.’ 'Harriet the Spy' is what first made me want to be a spy  - tomato and mayo white bread sandwiches. RIP Michelle Trachtenberg.