FKA twigs: The artistic polymath

FKA twigs, the experimental R‘n’B singer, sat at a novelty typewriter in the lobby of a faux-vintage Manhattan hotel, only to find that the machine actually worked. Hunting and pecking, she clacked out a message: “Hello world.”

Ding.

Born Tahliah Barnett in rural Gloucestershire, England, FKA twigs is something of an artistic polymath, having written and produced two internet-beating EPs and a critically beloved first album, LP1, released last year, while also directing, choreographing and starring in a striking run of outre pop music videos rivalling those of Bjork. At the moment, she is preparing Congregata, a two-hour performance pairing her silky, deconstructed electronic songs of lust and pain with a decade’s worth of her dance influences.

But that’s just her musical world. Barnett, 27, is also becoming, much to her consternation, increasingly part of the tabloid universe as the girlfriend of Twilight actor Robert Pattinson and as a fashion muse who attended the Met’s Costume Institute Gala with him and the designer Christopher Kane, wearing a much-discussed dress.

So while corralling an ornate theatrical production — involving nearly a dozen dancers in a variety of underground styles (voguing, krumping, bone-breaking) — FKA twigs must still contend with forces beyond her fastidious creative control: namely, the paparazzi, the gossip pages they fill and the anonymous commenters who feast on the scraps. It’s been intrusive and at times ugly, with a constant stream of racist insults on social media.

And then there is her insistence on handling her career in a less than traditional fashion. Whereas the playbook for an indie darling typically calls for relentless touring after a breakthrough debut, if not a new album as soon as possible, Barnett found the road circuit — and its temptation to go on autopilot — uninspiring.

“I’m not a tiny little hamster on a wheel — you can’t just say, ‘Now you’re in Baltimore, go perform!’” she said over juice in the hotel’s garden, casual in harem pants and knit crop top. “To lose how wonderful and sacred performance is, that’s quite disastrous, really.”

Her response was Congregata, or a coming together, a concert-plus that both centres her all-encompassing vision — from costumes, some hand-sewn by her mother back in England and others by Alexander McQueen, to musical arrangements — and pulls lesser-known artists into her brightening spotlight, with choreography from a diverse team including Ryan Heffington, known recently for his work with Sia.

While the show is in some ways a security blanket, surrounding FKA twigs with longtime friends and collaborators — “It’s my life, it’s my world,” she said — it’s also a testament to her ambition. “In many ways, I’m still an underground artist,” Barnett said, “but why can’t I have big special shows like Drake, Beyonce and Kanye?”

Many Ameri, a co-founder of the Red Bull Music Academy, which is presenting the show, was drawn to the fullness of the FKA twigs aesthetic.

“Music today is more than just the audio, and it’s also not just the moving image,” he said. “It’s a whole attitude, and making that point of view come to life through whatever means you have. Twigs is exceptional in the way she represents that.”

With just three days to go until the US debut of Congregata, which had a premiere in London on a smaller scale in February, FKA twigs, who once worked as a professional backing dancer, was still learning her moves. At a Midtown soundstage she was joined by Benjamin Milan, a locally trained veteran of voguing, which originated in New York’s drag ballroom scene and was taken to the mainstream by Madonna in a 1990 hit single.

“That’s nasty,” Milan told Barnett encouragingly as they rehearsed interacting arm movements and struck poses over a glamorous industrial beat, building a section of the show that is meant to highlight the dance form with cameos from other established voguing stars.

Barnett met Milan in a London club she visited to learn about the subculture. “A lot of music artists don’t respect the roots of dancing,” she said. “I never want to associate myself with something that I don’t understand. I would never want to be guilty of cultural appropriation.”

Beyond the expressive movement, Congregata features a new song, Glass & Patron, from a third EP, expected this summer, that addresses celebrity culture. “We wait all week to hear gods talk,” she sings of idol worship, “when you’ve got a front-row seat to the stars.”

Barnett likes to say she’s “masquerading as a pop star,” while also being sucked into the vortex of Twilight, with photographers around the world chronicling her relationship with Pattinson.

“It’s really hard — I can’t begin to explain how awful it is,” she said. “It makes you want to just stop everything sometimes. It makes you want to smash your face into the mirror.”

Worst of all are the racial insults — she is biracial — on Twitter and Instagram, some of them from diehard fans of Pattinson.

“It’s relentless,” she said. She insisted that the attention their relationship draws does not help her professionally. “There’s no amount of songs I can sing or dances I can dance that will prove to them I’m not a monkey.”

“I didn’t see my life going this way at all,” Barnett said of recent events. “But it’s worth it. I’m so happy.”

She is also adamant that the increased scrutiny will not affect her creativity. “Nothing can impale my work or make me choose not to say things a certain way or make an image the way I want,” she said.

That includes the Christopher Kane dress she wore to the Met ball, with brightly drawn and intertwined nude figures reminiscent of her choreography: “I’m like, ‘I’m wearing art!’”

But rather than withdraw completely from the maw, Barnett is defiant. Ahead of rehearsal this week, she met Pattinson on a Manhattan street corner in broad daylight, no tinted SUV in sight, and strolled off with a hand around his waist.