Shattered Icons: Tintin Cooper’s “Scrambled Portraits”
In a time when visual culture is dominated by speed and saturation, artist Tintin Cooper offers something slower. Her series Scrambled Portraits (2009–2011) is not loud. It is deliberate. Constructed from vintage football imagery, particularly from the 1970s and 80s, the works invite us to see past the hero worship and spectacle to something more human, vulnerable, and profound.
The spark came on the tube in London. In 2009, while studying for her master’s degree, Cooper found herself absorbed by the free newspapers on her commute, specifically, the back page. “It was always the sports section. The gestures, the emotion. The managers stood on the touch line, but they looked like Roman emperors caught mid-decree, or deep in despair.”
When working through hundreds of images one image in particular stood out: a Manchester United goalkeeper, hands raised in a moment that felt deeply spiritual. “It looked like he was almost praying,” she told me during an interview for Admiral Sports. “That gesture just stayed with me.”
It was the kind of image that stood the test of time, quiet, powerful, and emotionally open.
Cooper’s creative process mirrors her themes: it’s a slow, thoughtful distillation. She begins with hundreds of images, gradually sifting and editing. The ones that speak to her through gesture, composition, or resonance are carefully cut, rearranged, and rebuilt into collages.
“If the image doesn’t work fairly quickly, I abandon it,” she explained. “I don’t fight it. I move on.”
She compares the process to writing a haiku: short, deliberate, loaded with meaning. The final image is often deceptively simple, clean lines, minimal layers, but always evocative. Each cut is intentional.
The visual language of the 1970s and 80s appealed to Cooper precisely because of its simplicity. “There’s a humility in those photos. They’re not drowning in advertising or branding.” Modern images, by contrast, often leave behind only logos and commercial messaging once the subject is cut away. Cooper suggests that time is the ultimate curator: “Only the best shots survive 30 or 40 years.”
The Admiral Influence
A significant aspect of Cooper's work is her focus on the aesthetics of 1970s sportswear, particularly the designs of Admiral. The bold colours and patterns of these kits are not merely nostalgic references but serve as symbols of a bygone era's ideals of masculinity and athleticism.
“They’re graphic, they’re bold, and they carry so much cultural weight. They were the perfect balance of identity and simplicity.”
In her collages, the kits act almost like armour, symbols of national pride, masculinity, and collective memory. But the cuts and edits destabilise that image, asking: What lies beneath the uniform?
This interplay between fashion and identity is central to Cooper's work, highlighting how shirts can define the individuals who wear them.
Cooper’s eye is shaped by movement. Born in Bangkok, with a Thai mother and English father, she lived in 17 different countries growing up while her father worked with refugees. This transient upbringing gave her both intimacy and distance with British identity.
Her works have been featured in various international exhibitions, including the Bangkok Biennial and shows in London and Frankfurt. This global reach underscores the universal themes she tackles, resonating with audiences worldwide.
