2019

Madeline A. Stratton was born in 1987 in Memphis, TN. She is a multidisciplinary artist living and working in Washington, DC. In 2018, she completed her Multidisciplinary MFA in the Mount Royal School of Art at Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA), where she received a Merit Scholarship. She holds a MA in History of Art and the Art Market: Modern and Contemporary from Christie’s Education in New York, NY and a BA in Studio Art and History of Art from Vanderbilt University in Nashville, TN. Prior to pursuing her MFA, Stratton worked as a museum specialist in the Modern Prints and Drawings Department at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC. She also served as the cataloguer for the Prints and Multiples Department at Christie’s in New York. She has exhibited in Nashville, New York, Baltimore, and Philadelphia. She was 2018 Keyholder Resident at Pyramid Atlantic Art Center in Hyattsville, MD, and is currently a member of the Sparkplug collective at DC Arts Center.

What We Forgot to Remember was on view at Hillyer on July 6-28, 2019.

How do the materials you have chosen (paint, textile, threads, printmaking) expand or limit the way you create work that represents your memory? Do these “traditional” materials offer a tangible and accurate physical representation of what you want to convey to viewers?

For a while, I approached these materials as separate parts of my art practice. There were certain qualities of each of the materials, individually, that helped convey certain aspects of memory that I have been exploring. When I began combining these materials in different ways, I found that I could have more depth and layers to the final pieces. I have a strong tie to these materials and memory, especially paint and thread. Like many artists, I was a very creative child, painting and drawing. But I also learned to sew, and reconnecting with the memories of learning that traditional skill is what eventually led to my exploration of the theme of memory in my work.

How has your experience working in art museums impacted your own artistic endeavors?

Working in an auction house setting at Christie’s was a great experience. Every day I was not only handling, examining, and cataloging works of art for my department (prints and multiples), but I was also surrounded by art from other departments. While the workload and schedule was often intense, it was nice to find moments to slow down and actually take the time to look at the art on display. That part of the job was very inspiring. I also gained some practical skills like framing and acquired a greater understanding of the art market side of the art world. The downside was that with the often hectic schedule, I felt drained and felt like I didn’t have time to work on my own art. And the time that I did find, I was scared to experiment in my practice and have those experiments potentially fail – a fear that I have slowly gotten over. Working in a museum setting at the National Gallery of Art was another wonderful chance to be surrounded by so many amazing works of art. I’ll never forget cataloging some of the first watercolors by one of my favorite artists, John Singer Sargent.

You use both 2D and 3D elements in your work. How does the interplay between these elements shape a viewer’s experience? What are feelings or memories you aim to draw out through this contrast?

I like playing with the idea that I am using a 3D space from my memory, portraying it in a flat 2D way, but then moving it back into 3D. I like the play that happens when the 3D element helps activate the physical space that the piece is displayed in as a part of the piece. I like manipulating the perspective and challenging the viewer to recognize that it is a 3D representation of a space, but flattened.

What are you working on next? Do your future projects center around the theme of memory as well?

I am excited to be continuing this trajectory based on the work that is in this show. I am interested in continuing to experiment with the materials I use, and find new ways to combine them. Up next, I will be in a two-person show with Lee Nowell-Wilson at Sense Gallery in DC, curated by Mandy Cooper in August.
 

Nancy Sausser is an artist, curator, and writer living and working in the Washington, DC area. She holds a Master of Fine Arts degree in Sculpture from the University of Washington, in Seattle, and a Bachelor of Arts in Studio Art from Kenyon College. Her sculpture, executed primarily in low-fire ceramic, has been exhibited around the Washington, DC and Seattle areas and her writing has been published in the Washington Post, Fiber Arts Magazine, Washington Review, as well as numerous exhibition catalogs. She has been putting together exhibitions of contemporary art for over twenty-five years and is currently Exhibitions Director and Curator at McLean Project for the Arts in McLean, Virginia.

Quotidian Shift was on view at Hillyer on July 6-28, 2019.

Where does your inspiration for “exploring the conversation that exists between interior and exterior worlds” come from?

So many things can be looked at or experienced from an inside or outside perspective. I first started thinking about and exploring the many manifestations of this concept because, as a longtime maker of objects, I am naturally drawn to containers of all kinds, including vessels, boxes, and even the human body. I always seem to be most fundamentally interested in the container itself; even more than what may be inside of it. The process of making a sculpture calls for an awareness and investigation of both the inside and the outside of a piece and the ceramic medium is rooted in a history of utilitarian vessels. This inside/outside duality is everywhere, perhaps most profoundly expressed in the experience of inner awareness of our own thoughts and consciousness, and our outward experiences in the world. Everywhere I look I seem to find new ways to explore and express this idea.

As someone who wears multiple hats in the art world (curator, artist, writer) how do you find those disciplines overlap with one another and how do your other experiences inform the art you create?

Curating, writing and art-making are wonderfully and naturally symbiotic. Putting exhibitions together means that I am always looking at art, always thinking about art, and always talking to artists about their process. It’s very stimulating, both intellectually and visually. Curating is a very creative process itself, and since I work in the gallery I also get to spend a lot of time with an ever-changing array of art. So I have an opportunity to see deeply, which naturally feeds and sparks my own creative impulses. Writing about art necessitates very careful and deep thinking about the work I am writing about, which encourages me to try to apply the same standard of thoughtfulness to my own art. By being an artist, and specifically a sculptor, also informs my curatorial style and interests as well. Since I’m personally familiar with the process of making art, I tend to bring this to my understanding of the work I am showing and to the choices I make about which works I put together and how they are displayed. It’s really a wonderful combination of activities, each informing the other in ever-changing and sometimes unexpected ways.

In 2014 you completed a residency in Puebla, Mexico, and some of your current work references the tradition of Mexican wall niches– can you tell us more about your residency experience?

I had the good fortune to spend a month in Puebla, which is a beautiful city with amazing colonial architecture about two hours from Mexico City. It’s also the epicenter of the production of Talavera ceramics, traditionally colorful patterned pottery and tile work that is also has roots in both Spain and China. The city is literally filled with Talavera, with tiles covering walls, staircases and sidewalks everywhere you go. I spent countless hours exploring and walking while I was there; an opportunity to develop a deep appreciation for the tradition. I particularly loved finding the unexpected wall niches built into the architecture of the buildings, allowing for a pause, or to highlight a revered object or phrase. These were containers incorporated right into the buildings, and I was inspired by this tradition, and by the idea of the container as a space for reverence. One goes to a residency not only for time to work, but also to meet other artists and to experience a new place and make work while there. My time in Puebla was wonderful, pulling me out of my day to day and introducing me to new people, new sights, and new ideas.

You have over 25 years of experience working in contemporary art spaces. In what ways has your career impacted your personal artistic practice?

I think one of the most impactful ways my career has affected my own art has been the way I think about space. Choosing, spotting and arranging works in a gallery, putting them together in a way that helps the viewer see and understand the work better, making the air around the work enhance the work and the placement of a piece create interesting and informative conversations with the other pieces in the exhibit. These are all things that are a part of the vocabulary of curating. You notice how people move through the gallery, what they see first, and where they linger. Years of building and practicing these skills has definitely informed my own work and I think made it better than it would have been otherwise. These on-going lessons about the power of the space around the art to enhance, electrify and become part of the work have been very useful and have become a part of my art-making process. I also think getting to know and work with so many artists has been tremendously helpful to my own practice. It has exposed me to so many wonderful and individual ways of making, thinking about making and expressing ideas.

Pietro Ruffo studied Architecture at the University of Rome before moving to New York for a research scholarship at Columbia University. Since 2004, he has been working in Rome from his studio at Pastificio Cerere. Ruffo’s art investigates the great issues of universal history—especially individual freedom and dignity, which are constantly threatened by the ongoing homogenization contemporary society. Ruffo’s main solo exhibitions include: “Constelacoes Migracoes”, Centro cultural Correios, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; “L’illusion parfaite”, Galerie Italienne, Paris; “Terra Incognita”, Delhi; “Breve storia del resto del mondo”, Fondazione Puglisi Cosentino, Catania, Italy; “SPAD SVII”, Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna, Rome; “The Political Gymnasium”, Blain Southern London; “A complex Istant”, Moscow, special project for the Fourth Moscow Biennale; “Irhal Irhal”, Lorcan O’Neill gallery, Rome.

CONSTELLATIONS/MIGRATION was on view at Hillyer May 3 – June 30, 2019.

Your work is incredibly intricate and meant to reflect your social and moral concerns, as well as your stance on specific ethical issues. How have the mediums you have chosen reflect how you grapple with these complicated issues?

The medium I use is paper. I am an architect and I love to draw. I often start from the analysis of ancient geographical maps ⁠— these are documents that allow me to analyze power relations in different periods of history and from these I start my artistic work.

What are some of the main issues and themes in your work?

The topics that interest me are the power relations in various historical periods. The themes of self-defense of freedom and, during the last few years, the theme of migrations, are those which I have worked on the most, using drawings always as an analysis tool.

You describe your work not as a finished product but as “process-based research; open-ended and in continuous development.” Can you talk a bit about your process behind your work and what you would want viewers to draw from it?

Each project starts from an interest about man, from the study of the human condition in different historical moment. I am like a researcher who goes to the library and takes notes, the only difference is that my notes are graphic and not written. The paintings that I propose are never a summary or a point of arrival on a given theme, but just my notes. From there everyone watching them can get their personal idea on that theme.

What has been a piece or exhibition of yours that best embodies your artistic vision?

Each show is different and interesting at the same time. The show I am presenting in Washington, DC at IA&A at Hillyer, goes through the themes of migrations, drawing inspiration from geographers, cartographers and astronomers from ancient times to reflect on history, conflicts and human relationships. Assuming that migration and resettlement have always been intrinsic to the life of all species, humans and animals, I made ten important works on the balance of power inherent in those phenomenon. The group of four big drawings, titled GOLD MIGRATIONS – ink on emergency blanket – is focused on this theme by juxtaposing the shape of the national borders (North America, South America, Africa, Italy) with ancient historical scenes of migrants and native peoples recomposed into original fantastic narratives. Different ethnic groups, different layers of thoughts and ideas converge to simultaneously evoke the my perspective on the most controversial and complex issue of our times. The use of the gold blanket as a support highlights the state of emergency and the difficulties faced by those people who try to enter and integrate into territories and communities with different values.

Tyra Mitchell is a visual artist born and raised in Washington, DC. Tyra has spent the previous 5 years living and working in New York City. While there, she has had the opportunity to partner with many other creatives and brands. She gained her start by interning and freelancing enough to eventually make a name for herself in the creative community in New York. Her photography work has been featured in various places, most notably Opening Ceremony, Refinery29, and W Magazine. Tyra has now relocated back to her hometown to raise her family and create work that explores her upbringing in DC and the distinct culture that hails from it. Tyra is a strong believer in creating spaces for marginalized communities. Her latest venture, Art Mom Project, is an online platform that serves as a safe space for creative mothers to share their artwork and stories.

Raising Our Youth was on view at Hillyer on June 7 – 30, 2019. 

What is something you learned about the indigenous population in DC while working on pieces for your exhibition, especially through the lens of young families?

Through this project I’ve learned that there are many natives here in Washington, DC that do care about what’s going on in our city despite the rapid changes. The families I’ve worked with on this project so far have all been affected by gentrification, but they are fighting through it and making sure their children grow up knowing the history of their hometown.

What does the polaroid that you give to families at the end of each shoot symbolize to you? 

I wanted each family to have a polaroid portrait of themselves because it is a tangible memory that can be kept as long as they have it. It always put a smile on their face at the end of each shoot, which sealed our moment together.

You were born and raised in Washington, DC, and talk about how stories of native Washingtonians are rarely told, especially those of younger generations. What has working on this exhibition shown you about the representation of the younger indigenous population? Has it impacted your own identity and views?

I chose to highlight young families because it is a narrative that I best identify with. Becoming a mother has both inspired my art and broaden my perspective onf the world around me. Being born and raised in Washington, DC, I know that the stories of native Washingtonians are seldom told, especially those of younger generations.

Gentrification has been slowly been happening in my hometown for many years, but the implications of it never captured me the way it has now that I have a family that I am raising here. Aside from the growing economic segregation, DC has always been known for it’s beautiful, rich black culture. The “chocolate city” I knew growing up is not what it is today and I made it my duty to utilize the power of my art to highlight natives and their stories. I wanted to give my peers a platform to be seen and heard in spaces that they may not have been otherwise.

You’ve worked with publications such as Refinery29 and W Magazine, as well as the fashion brand Opening Ceremony. Have these experiences impacted your artistic vision and your decision to come back to DC?

Working with these publications has aided in refining my eye as an artist. Each experience was a unique one and I’m grateful that I was able to have the opportunity to work with such respected companies. I moved back to DC to raise my family, but also to bring back what I’ve learned while in New York. The underground art scene in DC has always been great. Unfortunately, but the job market for creatives isn’t as accessible as it is in New York. I want to do all that I can to make sure the artists here have a platform to showcase their work and actually make a living off of it. This can only begin by leading by example and showing them that it is possible.

What are some of the future projects you are working on that center around the topic of families, in addition to your online platform Art Mom Project?

I am currently also working on a project centered around generations of women in families and the important role of mothers and caretakers.

Eric Uhlir is a painter and photographer who grew up in the sunny melting pot of 1980s Southern California. He earned his BFA in Studio Art from the University of Texas in Austin in 2003. He currently lives and works in Washington, DC with his wife Phoebe and their dog, Violet. 

Recalled in Human Memory was on view at Hillyer on May 3 – 26, 2019.

Can you elaborate on the “cultural surface tensions that [allow] us to relate to each other” that inform and inspire your work?

When I talk about cultural surface tension I’m referring to the shared layer of understanding that permeates any given moment as a society. So topics like human migration and the environment are concepts that are pretty broadly understood. Whether people agree or disagree on the core of those issues is something different, the work’s intention is to make a connection between the viewer, the cultural moment and the history of humanity and art that we seem unable to fully process and learn from as a society. In layman’s terms, we keep making work about the same ideas but we don’t seem to learn our lessons. References are a battlefield right now as we’re hopefully in the middle of a time of dialogue and social change, but I think that’s a healthy thing and we shouldn’t shy away from it just because the conversations get heated sometimes.

I’m obviously bringing my own lenses and experience, and don’t claim to speak for everyone, but I do think there’s a lot everyone can do in our society to engage with our own history and with the stories that others have to share and look at those things in a critical way.

You mention how you draw much of your inspiration from biographical or historical influences. What are some of these specific influences that have informed your work and particularly this exhibition?

A lot of this work is directly inspired by the big history painters like Delacroix, Géricault and all the way back to Michelangelo and Leonardo’s dueling commissions for the “Battle of Cascina” and the “Battle of Anghiari”. The palette is very much rooted in a west coast sensibility gained from my childhood in Los Angeles. I hope what comes across is an energy and a vibrancy that you also see in the shift Diebenkorn made in his Ocean Park series, when he moved to Santa Monica.

My biggest source of truth had to be Cecily Brown and Joan Mitchell, though. When I saw Brown’s “Girl on a Swing” at the re-opened East Wing a few years ago, it was like I was struck by a bolt of lightning and suddenly understood a strategy for making a big shift from figurative to something more abstract. I’ve always looked at the work of Joan Mitchell and Helen Frankenthaler as my ideal of painting, but it was Brown who provided the key. I also took a lot of inspiration and energy from the recent Kerry James Marshall exhibitions. There’s a palette and a grasp of mythology and symbolism of which I think has a unique command.

What are some things you want viewers to take away from your work?

First and foremost, I want the viewer to take pleasure in the act of just looking. The work is intended to reward your investment of time and attention and to be digestible up close and from across a room.

Second, I want the viewer to develop their own narrative, since the references aren’t any secret, I hope people invest in the ideas and mythologies I’m creating; Southern California as a problematic garden of Eden in “Indio”, the tiger of “Trophic Cascade” an emblem of humanity threatening our own well being by our inability to understand and curtail the destruction of our own environment, the shipwreck of “The Crossing” a story of the risks people take to escape their circumstances because of social conflict, and “Tartarus” about our history of creating mythological places of punishment that are both a part of our existence but set apart to an extent.

We tell ourselves stories about the lessons we’re supposed to learn from our own misdeeds but are endlessly destined to repeat them. It’s not to say the work is all doom and gloom, the colors and energy are meant to convey that these are all ideas we can, and still are, engaging with in a real dialogue. I want the viewer to put down their phone and think about that conversation, spend some time with the marks and the energy of the paint and meditate with those ideas and then go out into the world with some new thought or idea or inspiration.

You talk about how you have had a recent shift in your work where there is “increasing abstraction is deeply influenced by artists across history.” What influenced this kind of shift and how has your work changed?

Like I said, this was largely influenced by Cecily Brown, who I had never had the opportunity to experience in person and see how she builds layers through additive and reductive mark making. My lifelong love of artists like Frankenthaler and Mitchell has been important, but also painters like Wayne Thiebaud, Richard Diebenkorn, and obvious the classics of the Italian Renaissance. J.M.W. Turner was a huge influence for me, as well as more esoteric artists like Louise Bourgeois and Jenny Saville. The new Tintoretto show at the National Gallery was also a revelation and I’m already spinning on ideas from how he constructed narratives in his compositions.

Now that I’m pushing 40, I also look at Amy Sherald and Barnet Newman as personal heroes for persevering and making their mark in their 40’s. Plus I also just love their work but I think it’s important for artists to understand that this is a profession that rewards hard work and perseverance. I learned that in spades from my mentor Dan Sutherland in art school at the University of Texas. The paintings don’t make themselves, you have to put in the work, and do it with intention and self-awareness. So artists like Sherald and Newman are examples of the sheer discipline and courage it takes to keep making the work. It helps I have an endlessly supportive partner and group of friends who give me the love and support to keep it going.

You discuss how much of your work is influenced by artists across history. Who are some of these artists and how have they shaped the work in your career?

Growing up in LA my mom used to organize trips to  for my twin brother Raymond, also an artist, and our gaggle of friends. I think the main takeaway for me of a lifetime of looking at art and growing up with an art major mom, was that art is something full of both virtuosity and unfinished ideas. This can be hard for people to grasp when you first start painting. You have ideas, influences and motivation but aren’t quite sure how all that fits together. In some ways the forced break in my practice from struggling to find studio space in DC actually helped me mature and understand my relationship with both my practice and art history. It gave me distance and perspective to make a shift in my process and strategy as a painter.