Artist Enoc Perez in his home, photographed by Maryam Eisler

Borne of 1980s New York amongst the backdrop of Warhol, Basquiat, and Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Puerto Rican artist Enoc Perez has spent his decades-long career exploring questions of identity, heritage, and the urban landscape. LUX Contributing Editor Maryam Eisler talks to him about love, the ‘second phase of life’, and art in the current climate

Maryam Eisler: We’re sitting in your summer studio in East Hampton.

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Enoc Perez: I call it the two-car garage; it’s a studio where my children used to run in as children. This is also where I learned how to make sculptures. I’ve even made little pastoral paintings, something I would not normally do.

ME: Is it a place of experimentation?

EP: It’s my lab. This is a place where I knew nobody would see anything when I first bought it, so I could work privately.

Enoc Perez’s studio, photographed by Maryam Eisler

ME: Your sanctuary.

EP: Sanctuary it was. It’s also about the dreams you dream of. When I was studying art as a young guy, I would see Picasso’s studios in the South of France with Paloma and Paolo, his children, running around. Think of the pictures of Julian Schnabel, with him coming out of the water. I wanted somewhere with a pool, where I could go swim and come back to the studio and work, with my family around, because I personally don’t like to stop working. I feel guilty when I don’t work!

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ME: You told me earlier that this is now the second phase of life; talk to me about your beginnings.

EP: I came here when I was 19 years old from Puerto Rico. I wanted to come here and my dad insisted on that too – if I was going to study art, I had to go to America. He was right. When I graduated at 22, the whole challenge was how to get seen in a city that has so many artists.

It was 1986. Jean-Michel [Basquiat] was still working. I was there. I witnessed it all.

Enoc Perez’s ‘Luquillo Beach, Puerto Rico’, painted in 2025

ME: What was New York like in the 80s?

EP: It was dangerous. It was crazy. You remember The World? You remember all those clubs? It was so exciting. I didn’t even have a style, because I came from suburbia in Puerto Rico, so I pretty much looked like the Sears catalogue!

ME: You were a clean slate, ready to absorb.

EP: At first, I did my own interpretations of Jean-Michel Basquiat because he was the best. Until I realised that I had to do something that nobody else had attempted or wanted to do, especially as a Puerto Rican. In the early 90s, Felix Gonzalez-Torres started to come to prominence, and he was a game changer – how he saw sculpture and art was mind blowing. I noticed that Felix would be placed into contemporary art auctions, not in Latin American sales. That’s when I decided I didn’t want to be separated.

So, I decided to win the contemporary. Then came questioning of the method. How would I communicate with my audience using a universal language? I looked at Warhol, Rauschenberg, Richard Prince: they all used printmaking in the painting process, especially Warhol and Rauschenberg. That’s when I started doing transfers of drawings.

Enoc Perez’s oil on canvas ‘My Mother’s Kitchen’, 2025

It’s like a primitive way of printing. This gave me the relationship I wanted with the New York masters. I wasn’t using any brushes. It was very American. People at the time said they looked like Warhol silkscreens. My sister was working at Ralph Lauren at the time, and I went to pick her up one day for dinner and I noticed they had a colour copier. I opened the machine and it had four colours, the basic colour separation. I thought it would be cool if I used these colours to make my images too. That’s when I started adding layers to my monochromatic canvases.

ME: And that’s how your personal style developed?

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EP: When I started using colours, I knew I had something. I was throwing a house party once, and people were just getting wasted, but they noticed a little painting hanging on the wall. I thought to myself: ‘okay, this is going to work’. I had these non-art and wasted guys actually talking about my art!

I started making paintings of other people’s girlfriends. I was recently divorced. I was angry, so I would take a picture of a couple and cut the guy out. They were paintings about envy, anger and desire. Everything happens because of love. The architecture came up when I first met my now-wife Carole who was married at the time.

Carole’s heels sitting next to the family swimming pool in East Hampton, photographed by Maryam Eisler

ME: Love is everything.

EP: Isn’t it? It’s probably the most basic motivation. But when you’re already in love you have to become more conceptual and talk about intellectual matters.

So, I met Carole. She was married to some other guy, but I wanted to do a show about her, and I decided to do a show in code. This was 2003. I thought to myself, ‘what am I going to do?’. I have a good library of architecture books. There’s a hotel in Puerto Rico called the Normandie. The story of that hotel goes back to the Puerto Rican guy who built it. He had a French wife – a singer. He built a boat for her, but that didn’t work out, so she wasn’t too impressed. Then he built this building based on the famous Normandie liner boat. I said to myself, ‘I am a Puerto Rican and I’m in love with a French woman. This painting will be a portrait of her’. And that was that!

Read more: In conversation with Henry Lumby of Auriens Chelsea

ME: Tony Shafrazi: tell me about him.

EP: Tony? He came in because of the buildings! The works were intellectual and I knew they would spark an interest in someone like him. This was after 2001; we all became painfully aware of the symbols that architecture signalled. Especially after September 11. My architectural symbols were inspired by love. Then, I started thinking about the Caribbean and Latin America, with all their international modernist buildings with beautiful architecture – all symbols of colonisation.

A close-up of Perez’s materials found in his studio, photographed by Maryam Eisler

ME: When did Tony notice your work?

EP: I had a German dealer at the time who took me to Art Basel. He called me and told me ‘Oh, these two guys bought your paintings – all of them!’. He wouldn’t tell me who at first. Anyway, months went by and then he told me, ‘Well, it was Peter Brant and Tony Shafrazi’. At that time, I was starting to join forces with Elizabeth Dee in New York, so she put Tony in contact with me, and the rest is history. Tony even came to our wedding.

ME: Do you regard Shafrazi as your godfather?

EP: He’s a godfather to a lot of artists. But, for me, he was my refinement school. He’s the guy who tells me, ‘No, you cannot do that’, or, ‘Think about it a little more’, or, ‘Challenge me’. He understands art like no one I know. Peter Brant, too. We became friends; Peter commissioned a portrait of Stephanie Seymour. These two men are blessings in my life.

ME: Let’s move to your paintings of beautiful sensual women. You told me that you felt there’s no room for showing these works now? Why not?

EP: I would get killed. I mean, I’m a 56-year-old straight guy. It doesn’t look good and people would criticise me.

‘Ponce Intercontental’, 2023. For Perez, architecture is richly embedded with symbols of love, as well as modernism and colonialism

ME: Do you self-censor?

EP: Well, there’s some degree of self-censoring. But with art, you can store it and bring it out when the time is right. Carlo Mollino has been an inspiration; he found a way to show the female nude in his polaroids in a tasteful and carnal way. There is always that fine line between good and bad taste, and I love him for walking that line.

ME: So, elegant and sensual can go hand in hand?

EP: Yes – look at Mollino’s interiors and what he was able to accomplish with them. He made beautiful polaroids that were found after he died. They will remain a mystery and I think of them as ghosts. Even in my own paintings inspired by his work, I soon thought to myself, ‘Oh my god, they look like ghosts’. They’re an archetype, and as we know, all creativity stems from the female.

‘After Mollino (18)’ by Enoc Perez (2019), inspired by Mollino’s ghost-like polaroids and interiors

ME: Female is creation. Female gives birth. Female inspires.

EP: Yes, quite literally. If you look at Mollino’s national theatre in Torino, it looks like a vagina – the most beautiful thing. It’s also very powerful.

ME: Do you think the art world looks down on all matters ‘beautiful’?

EP: Seduction is mostly looked down upon, at least in my experience in the art world. The current moment reminds me of the mid-90s, when art became so political. My attitude to that was, and still is, that I think it’s necessary. Personally, I want to inspire. I want to make art that has soul. That, to me, is more mysterious than making just a statement or offering a one-liner. I am active politically in my community, but art is about love for me.

‘Untitled’ made by Perez with oil on canvas in 2024

ME: I also sense this idea of bygone past, some sort of melancholic nostalgia in your work, or a nod to sentimental elegance of the past which we seem to have lost today.

EP: I don’t know if it’s nostalgia. I think it’s about wanting to reclaim a time that only belongs to me.

ME: Your representation of this time looks a bit disjointed, like fragmented memories.

EP: It’s fractured, kind of like myself. When I started to do the Rum Paintings, for example, those were self-portraits. I was an alcoholic at the time.

ME: When did you become sober?

EP: When I had my first son, Leo. My wife went on a girls night out, and I stayed behind to take care of him. I almost dropped him while I was changing his diaper because I was so drunk. The day after, I made an appointment with a psychiatrist. It turns out that I’m OCD, and I was self-medicating. I’m now 17 years sober, and I can only now revisit my paintings from that time.

Perez in his studio, with his process captured by Maryam Eisler

ME: Addiction undeniably is very present in the creative community. What has sobriety done for you? How has it affected your life and work?

EP: The positive side is that sobriety allowed me to be a normal, better father to my children. Also, it has allowed me to properly look at my work in greater depth. I did a project for the Dallas Contemporary about the architect Philip Johnson. When I started studying him and found out about his Nazi activity, I called Tony [Shafrazi] and told him ‘I don’t know if I can do this. This guy was a piece of shit’. He replied, ‘I agree with how you feel, but it’s your job as an artist to critique and to tell the story’. That allowed me to get through the show, but afterwards, I didn’t want to do any more architecture paintings. Think about Johnson’s Glass House. The Glass House is an important piece of architecture for American culture. It was inspired by a house bombed to the ground that Johnson saw while visiting a Hitler rally in Poland. I mean come on!

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ME: Where do you find your inspiration today?

EP: I did some of my best paintings in my thirties, so how do I access the person that I was then? That was part of turning 50. At this point, I am competing against myself!

ME: But you are painting as you did, with sobriety. The canvas is ultimately your own skin. I am very intrigued by your use of calligraphy; even that is of the past.

‘Untitled’, 2024, oil on canvas

EP: Maybe I am allowing myself to do that more today. I am having a show in Hong Kong with Ben Brown with my Rum Paintings and I have used words like ‘Go Bananas’, encouraging the alcoholic to get worse! Or ‘it’s nice to know you’re loved amongst friends’ shown with empty bottles. Poetic, right?

ME: Poetic while it’s happening. Perhaps not so poetic the day after!

EP: I also still love the old advertisements. They look like Morandi’s still lives; they’re just like pop art. But ultimately, I like the landscapes because they’re very real, like fragmented memories. The landscape is the only thing for me that is real. And I see it as mine. The Caribbean is mine.

ME: At the end of the day, it’s your world, your imagination, your brain! You allow yourself that privilege. In this world of ours, you cannot control a lot of things. One thing you can control is you.

EP: Understanding the moment, I understand the freedom of being exactly who I think I am.

Curator Angeliki Kim Perfetti has created a supercar-themed exhibition to match the celebrated vehicles at Kiklo Spaces, outside London. She writes for LUX of her inspirations to bring high quality art to a revered location for motoring enthusiasts

The exhibition features artworks by Ed Ruscha, Polly Morgan, Johan Deckmann and Nancy Cadogan among others, interspersed with some classic supercars of the last four decades

Love is a language that we all speak, and here within the exhibition di nome e di fatto:
LOVE /𝐥ʌ𝐯/, brings together an infinite collection of references to art history, visual culture and contemporary storytelling that is reflecting on and relating to the many topics of love.

Love runs through the exhibition as a fil rouge and presents eleven artists who are united in their diversity and their works forms a presentation of text, abstraction, light, figure, colour, and form.

Ultimately, LOVE /𝐥ʌ𝐯/ is a dynamic feel-good exhibition featuring an eclectic group of artists. Who are working across a variety of media from sculpture, traditional work on canvas, photography, light installation to mirror, whilst exploring the many topics of love.

Juliette Loughran, founder of Loughran Gallery, said, “We wanted to start the year on a high, uniting audiences and artists with the most powerful human emotion of all.

Love drives everything we do and this exhibition will explore its significance in art history with Dynamisk founder Angeliki Kim Perfetti, in the first of what we hope will be many collaborations.”

Follow LUX on instagram @luxthemagazine

LOVE /lʌv/ runs 4 March – 31 May 2024 at Loughran Gallery

See More: loughrangallery.co.uk

Angeliki Kim Perfetti is the Founder of Dynamisk, Independent Curation and Art Advisory

Portrait of Henry Lohmeyer by Maryam Eisler

American photographer Henry Lohmeyer is not only renowned for his powerful photography but also his use of words to accompany each work of art. Here, Lohmeyer speaks to Maryam Eisler about the impact his art and poetry have had on his audience and himself

Maryam Eisler: Whose work speaks your language and has impacted you most?
Henry Lohmeyer: I can’t say certainly. Your sensibilities change as you are exposed to life. To begin with, I wasn’t really struck by photographers as much as I was by painters and sculptors. Bresson, absolutely; I think all roads lead to him—so fascinated that he saw himself a drawer first. The other artist who has really hit me hard is Arbus. How she was able to squeeze out of that tight space she fit into, as probably most women artists were at the time, and are still… her work is masterful in that she saw beauty and humanity in almost anyone. She was able to show both physical and emotional scars in the most powerful of ways. And through these scars, we are made to see our own differences, commonalities and identities.

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Maryam Eisler: When did your first camera click take place?
Henry Lohmeyer: We had a cabin growing up, on a little fishing river, and my mother would give me a camera to play with (as well as crayons to draw with). It was a plastic camera but it took 120 film, and as you know on 120 film you were only allowed 10 or 12 photos. I was given that for the week and you learn to shoot very sparingly. That’s when I remember taking a photo with thought. I also learned to see the charm in those ones that were missed and somehow turned out beautiful.

Lohmeyer says: “May we just talk about hurt and love? The hurt you feel when you know you can’t help. The kind of love when you beg to understand.”

Maryam Eisler: As I discovered you on Instagram, I realised that not only your photos are poetry but so are your words, a powerful marriage of the visual and the intellect. Have you always approached your art in this manner?
Henry Lohmeyer: When I got sober twelve years ago, I needed a way to express myself. I went to art school and I often fancied myself becoming a painter, a sculptor, a print maker. It just wasn’t feasible at the time to do that, but what I had was my IPhone. I would just take photographs of anything and everything. In all honesty, they were terrible shots but I really appreciated them, as much if not even more than any photograph I take today, because they served as foundation for my work today. It was a means for me to express myself, process stuff, figure out where I was headed without including another person into this whirlpool of emotions. It was something I could do every day and there was no cost. A year into it, I started incorporating a sentence or a word and I found this to be a great way, as a diary does, to journal, to share my experiences. I love it when people respond to what I write or photograph, but on a more personal note, it’s a source of accountability. Even at my age, I’m still trying to figure so much out, as we all are. I like the childlike quality of that process. My fear, however, is that I may box in the photo when I write what it’s about, rather than opening it up to interpretation.

Read more: The LUX Art Diary: Exhibitions to See in March

Maryam Eisler: Through your words and your images, you unveil yourself to your viewers and connect with them- your feelings, your scars. Do you enjoy this connection with ‘the other’?
Henry Lohmeyer: I like to believe that what I’m feeling is a shared experience. I think we all want to be normalised, not to say that we don’t want to feel unique but … We don’t want to feel like a pariah. We want to be received, accepted. It is nice when someone connects with what I’m saying. It makes me feel good, it helps me too. I receive way more than I could give on that regard. With that said, it’s an exercise in vulnerability and opening myself up, connecting. That’s something that photography and my words have given me: a connection that I was so quick to discount, deny or run away from so many times in the past. I do it because it keeps me healthy. I’ve been able to ride the ship many times because of my words to myself and of myself.

For the women who care for each of us

Maryam Eisler: You speak of scars. Do you think that an artist needs them in order to produce?
Henry Lohmeyer: I do not believe that. But I do know that if you are scarred, art can help. Expressing no matter what your medium can be an asset. I don’t know if this is true and it’s probably my narrative but I feel like I can tell when work is derived from a really sore spot and I don’t think it necessarily makes it any better, but I do admire those that can rely on it and turn it into something that others respond to. There’s a saying in recovery that “you’re only as sick as your secrets” and I do think that it’s important to live out loud.

Lohmeyer says: “Like love, hope is a rather subversive ideal.”

Maryam Eisler: For an introvert, you are incredibly expressive!
Henry Lohmeyer: It’s a need. I also know that I create my best work, living on that edge. I’m not Evel Knievel but I am living in that idea of pushing myself. Vulnerability is a moving target. I can remember the first time I wrote alongside my images and still today, like many, I feel fear before sharing.

Maryam Eisler: But doubt is necessary for an artist- is it not?
Henry Lohmeyer: Yes, doubt is a constant for me. My writing never stops, but visually I haven’t opened myself up as much as I would like to. I’ve been in a place where I close down the things I see. I see a photograph in the making and it’ll be like falling out of a boat into water- that easy!

Read more: Shahrzad Ghaffari: “Where Curiosity Stops, the Creative Process Ends”

Maryam Eisler: I suppose it’s like writer’s block… you get visual block. I guess, in your case, you need that balance between both sides of the equation.
Henry Lohmeyer: More times than not, one picks up the other. There’s sometimes a photo, where what I saw really captured me. You know how it is, you’re not just capturing visually what it is but also how it made you feel and that’s the hard part. How many times, have you seen that old mary-go-round horse… tattered, broken, chipped… but then you see the beauty in it.

Lohmeyer says: “If I were a boy king, more command than competence, with all the valour in my heart and any army at my disposal, to what length would I go to conquer love? To what depth would I go to honour both her heart and mine? What lines would be drawn in the sand to mark each prayer, each hope, each noble act? If I were a boy king, to what end would I be measured, to what time would I embrace and to what distant shore would I sail to join hearts?”

Maryam Eisler: When I think of your work, I think of wide open spaces, I think of solitude, I think of isolation but also time. There’s huge sentimentality in what you portray.
Henry Lohmeyer: Well a continuous theme in my work is that of a hero’s journey, the fall and the rise. I think that the lone figure is very appealing to me. I connect with it very easily. I think that we all feel sometimes alone and I certainly don’t want to relish in that moment, but I do think that there is a lot of beauty in that space. It certainly doesn’t feel beautiful when you’re in it yourself but it’s hard not look at it with some admiration, and to find honour in that moment when you rise out of it. There is that song from Les Miserables where Fantine sings, “there are storms we cannot weather”, and I do think that when someone says it’ll get better, we don’t necessarily feel that, but I do know that when we step out of it and start to rise, there is great reason to celebrate and embrace the moment. That is something that gets lost on many of us. We feel like we deserve the harshness, and yet when we are victorious or when we thrive, we somehow think it’s Grace. That we didn’t earn it. I think that again we don’t need to experience bad to understand good or feel despair to understand hope.

Lohmeyer says: “I don’t know where he is now. I know we hugged. I know he liked his tea sweeter than mine-that’s very sweet. I know he couldn’t sing. I know that he looked at me the way son looks at a father-baba, he would say, I know we trusted one another and I know I miss him.”

Maryam Eisler: Speak to me about Love.
Henry Lohmeyer: I understand the idea of love and I do love. I’m capable of love … my children, my two grandchildren. I love my brothers and sisters, my nieces and nephews and my friends. I know that I have many shortcomings in this area, and that I am constantly working on it. It’s not the idea that ‘forever’ scares me and I don’t necessarily equate ‘forever’ with love; we can love for a day. In fact, I think love is probably our greatest gift. I hope that in my photography and through my words, I show how I love people. I have not necessarily been very good with the romantic kind of love. I laughingly say I have one great love affair left in me, and I say that tongue and cheek in a way because I’m just going to keep trying to get back on the saddle. I do love the idea of it.

Portrait of Henry Lohmeyer by Maryam Eisler

Maryam Eisler: You are very well read. We have spoken a lot about your favourite authors and I’m assuming that it’s from that passion for literature where your love of the ‘word’ comes from.
Henry Lohmeyer: I like Hemingway a lot. I like his style. I know he’s controversial regarding his views on women and life, and there is no denying all of that. I do like how he can say things in such a pithy manner. There are many lines I really love. “Why did they make birds so delicate and as fine as those sea swallows when the ocean can be so cruel?”, comes to mind. I love when J.D. Salinger says “She wasn’t doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together.” Jonathan Safran Foer’s writes in Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, “Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.” This line kills me.

Read more: Darius Sanai’s California Diary

Books to me are magical, because I had a lot of trouble reading them as a child due to my dyslexia and ADD, so they were kind of a burden at first; when I was able to sit down with them eventually, it was kind of magical.

Lohmeyer says: “My father would describe things, places, etc, “It’s the same, but different.” He spoke of love in this manner too. Maybe we seek a mirror, one that holds, not what is peculiar to us, but rather what reflects the best parts of ourselves. The same, but different.”

Maryam Eisler: Camus is an author you hold close to your heart and “Vivre au point des larmes” (‘to live on the verge of tears’) is tattooed on your body.
Henry Lohmeyer: I believe that emphatically; it’s a thing I aspire to, but am not always successful at. It’s scary to be on or over the edge of the boat, but I do believe that is the place to be. It’s fear, it’s hope, it’s glory, it’s exciting but it’s also sad and you’re easily broken there. For me, to be happy and satisfied, I need to be on that edge. That doesn’t mean life- risking. I have no desire to skydive or bungee jump; I’m not a thrill seeker emotionally, and I don’t thrive on the loss of anything, but I do know it’s necessary to be there, on the brink.

Image of Henry Lohmeyer by Maryam Eisler

Maryam Eisler: What’s on the horizon for you now, artistically?
Henry Lohmeyer: I’m excited about what’s coming next. The word “Shadows” come to mind. I’ve done a good bit of witnessing and recording those we’ve chosen to place on the edge- refugees, immigrants, the homeless, and the abused. And, during this time I’ve come to realize that it may not take a catastrophic event or events to cost us our safety and security—our rights as humans. My art, going forward, will take a much softer approach at witnessing and translating. While the images may be more measured, the words will not. As you know, my words mean as much to me, if not more, than my photographs—so, I’m going to incorporate them directly onto the images. Might be many words, might be one. I’m hoping it will be a more expressive reflection of what is seen—it’s a vulnerable space for anyone to allow for an open interpretation of self and an imperative for any artist.

Find out more:

henrylohmeyer.com

@henrylohmeyer

Simon Hodges photographed by Matt Porteous

Last month, life coach Simon Hodges discussed why healthy dynamics often deteriorate and offered practical tools to help break out of old destructive patterns of behaviour. In his last column dealing with family dynamics, Simon provides some practical and powerful tips to improve family relationships

Love is always the answer, the answer is always love

This may sound obvious, but I make no apology for saying it: if you want to build more loving relationships, you have to make being loving your primary focus. This is not just a ‘soft and fluffy’ act. Far from it, it is actually the most challenging and most rewarding thing you will ever do.

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The most loving relationships are those where boundaries exist – put simply this involves being honest with yourself about what is ‘ok’ and what is ‘not ok’ in your relationship with others and making this clear to those around you. Once these limits have been set, it is then a case of holding each other accountable to these boundaries (with consequences for overstepping them). Though it may seem counter-intuitive, this requires putting yourself first, having the moral courage to say what you feel and to say it proactively and pre-emptively before any problems occur; take a moment to reflect on this point and be honest with yourself – do you routinely avoid speaking your truth because it feels awkward to do so? And then ask yourself, what are the consequences of failing to do this in your most important relationships?

The other major component of a loving relationships is trust, which can only be built over time. Trust is complex, nuanced and layered. At one end of the spectrum is an assumption of trust based on a contract; at the other end, there is unconditional and ‘pure’ trust, where no matter what, you know that other person will be there for you. Above all, trust is earned by being reliable and consistent in your actions (actions speak louder than words) which meet or exceed someone else’s expectations. And if you really want to build long-term trust and have a life of fulfilment, live a life of service. When we step out of making everything in our lives about ourselves and we seek to serve others, we create a virtuous ‘win-win’ circle.

Photograph by Matt Porteous

Dynamic communication is key

We often get lazy in our closest relationships and forget some of the golden rules of great communication. One of the biggest mistakes we make is assuming that we truly understand what the other person is saying without checking. The definition of effective communication is making sure your message is received and understood the way you intended it to be, but when was the last time you checked to see if that was the case?

Here are two simple techniques to do so:

• • Repeat in your own words what you think you just heard the other person communicate to you.
  • Where you are more unsure if you understood correctly, ask the other person to clarify for you what you just heard.

In using these techniques, you are immediately establishing deeper connection and rapport because you are effectively communicating (at an emotional level) that you care about the other person. You want to truly understand their perspective and as a result they feel heard, respected and valued.

Read more: Simon Hodges discusses how to break free from destructive behaviour

One final practical tip, which is always a game changer in family dynamics and speaks to the point above about serving others, is to learn to listen more objectively and better still, with practice, to listen intuitively. Objective listening is all about putting yourself in the other person’s shoes, making a real effort to understand what the other person needs and why. This requires us to step out of our desire to win and control every situation, and to genuinely want to understand the other person’s needs.

Intuitive listening is an art, and it is appreciated by everyone. With practice and real presence, you’ll be able to instinctively pick up insights and feelings around what is emotionally driving the other person’s behaviour. Often you will find out the most important information by tuning into what they aren’t saying: by observing their body language, listening to the tone and intonation of their voice and paying attention to the energy behind all of this. When you can really hear someone, when you value their thoughts, ideas and opinions, your relationship with them will immediately start to transform.

Find out more about Simon Hodges’ work: simonhodges.com; @simonhodgescoaching

Life coach Simon Hodges with his family. Photograph by Matt Porteous

Life coach Simon Hodges has transformed the lives of royalty, entrepreneurs, billionaires and their families. In the first of his new monthly column for LUX, Simon discusses how and why problems arise in familial relationships

Wealth is a magnifying glass – under its focus, problems seem larger and the fall from grace far further. In this way, money accumulates fear – just as it brings comfort and security, it also raises the stakes and expectations for everyone in a family.

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Having worked with some of the world’s wealthiest families, I have seen how this fear can become all-encompassing, insidiously eroding the foundations of a healthy family dynamic. If left too late, suppressed ill-feeling and latent passive aggression almost always lead to conflict.

So, with this in mind – and given the surprising amount of time we are having to spend with our relatives of late! – I thought I would share how and why families fall apart and (in my next column) the steps you can take to prevent this.

Simon Hodges. Photograph by Matt Porteous

Where does it all go wrong?

‘Home is where you are loved the most and act the worst’

We reluctantly know and accept that we behave our worst in our closest relationships, the question is: why?

Assumptions

Each and every one of us is a teeming mass of assumptions. We suppose, surmise, infer and predict all the time, partly out of necessity, but primarily because of our beliefs (more on this later!). Within our families, we consistently assume that we know:

• what the other person is thinking
• how someone is going to react to a specific situation
• how things should be
• what’s right and wrong

And yet, the reality is that we don’t actually know ‘The Truth’ in our relationships; how are we supposed to, if we can never really understand what the other person is feeling and thinking?

When we make assumptions, we aren’t just deceiving ourselves based on our own predispositions and beliefs, we are also limiting our ability to remain open and loving to those around us.

In this way, embedded in every assumption is a veiled judgement. This judgement stifles love and authenticity and tears families apart from within.

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Wanting to change each other

This is a big one and one of the most destructive behaviours I see come up again and again.

Although families are ostensibly a single unit, they are always made up of individuals with their own unique skillsets and viewpoints. But all too often, these differences are seen as obstructive and unwanted complications. Parents want to iron them out, grandparents see them as a threat, and children learn to smother their real identities for the sake of everyone else.

When these differences can’t be dealt with – how are you actually meant to change someone’s nature? – it becomes a constant source of shame for the parents. They believe that not bringing up a child who is identical to them in every way is a sign of some parental failure.

And so, over time, families become locked in a self-sabotaging pattern of ‘I win, you lose’ behaviour. A cycle of blame and shame takes root when those who are different feel ostracised, and those who can’t ‘sort out’ these differences feel powerless.

Photograph by Matt Porteous

Labelling family members

Think about the members of your family for a moment and come up with some labels that you have for each other. Do the following resonate?

• the black sheep
• the prodigal child
• the anxious one
• the emotional one
• the difficult one
• the prima donna
• the control freak

Just like assumptions, labels can quickly pass from opinion to fact; a passing remark can stay stuck for a lifetime and feed into a burgeoning narrative of ‘us and them’. But in reality, these ‘facts’ almost always grow out of fear. Labels, like judgements, are without fail more a reflection of our own insecurities than the person we’re labelling.

Think about the different ways you typecast and characterise your relatives and how this reflects your own beliefs and fears. Are you jealous of the black sheep’s freedom? Do you envy the attention the prima donna receives?

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We love to push each other’s buttons

In some families, the need to push each other’s buttons is relished as if it is a sport. The competitive urge to provoke a reaction and test the limits of those we know best chips away at any harmony and goodwill that might exist.

The lugging baggage and dense experience which accumulates around all families eventually explodes under this compiled pressure and the default reaction is always one of fear – fight, flight or freeze. We either challenge, flee or shut down, but no matter the response, it never brings a family closer together.

The heart of the matter

We all want to be loved, worthy and enough. Yet throughout our childhoods we pick up limiting beliefs which convince us that love and worth and abundance are conditional:

I will only be loved when I….
I will only be enough when I…
I will only be worthy when I…

These beliefs are deep-rooted and drive incredible amounts of our behaviour. They are also the primary force holding back a family from longevity and genuine connection.

Thriving as a family, as a cohesive and loving unit, can seem like an ever-developing enigma. As parents age and children have children and grandparents pass on legacies, there are always new issues arising.

Over the last decades I have seen countless families fall apart and come together again. At the heart of every success story was a personal commitment from every member to let go of judgement, to renounce the labels and destructive assumptions, and lead with love rather than fear.

Find out more about Simon Hodges’ work: simonhodges.com; @simonhodgescoaching