Artist Interviews

Clay Dunklin is an interdisciplinary artist whose experimental practice includes performative, video, and installation works. Dunklin has exhibited his work nationally including shows at the Orlando Science Center, The American University Museum at the Katzen Arts Center, and the Delaware Contemporary. He received his BFA in drawing from the University of Central Florida and his MFA from the University of Maryland College Park. Dunklin is currently an NTT Assistant Professor of Art at Western Oregon University.

Song of the Wild was on view at Hillyer on October 4 – 27, 2019.

Your exhibition at Hillyer, Song of the Wild, was a video installation about notions of the body, consciousness, and performance. Tell us a little bit about that work.

My work, in general, grows out of this trajectory of trying to make sense of the body, so fittingly, my own body has been the primary point of this exploration. Our bodies really are our greatest tools to mediate this weird space that exists between our minds and the larger world. In Song of the Wild, I’m reflecting on questions like “What does the body actually do in this in-between space?” and “How do we intentionally activate the body to experience this space?”

The soundtrack that accompanies the video uses low-frequency tones that literally vibrate in the body – you can feel the sound, it activates your body immediately. Combined with this is a track of me singing an old lullaby called “Song of the Wild.” There are dreamy harmonies here that help you to relax on the cushions and settle into the experience.

As you watch the video, you notice that my appearance becomes more abstracted by applying yellow goo to my face. It also becomes increasingly fragmented, like when you go cross-eyed from staring into space and little floaters appear to dance around like when you look at the sun for too long. I’ve taken all these phenomena that seem to happen to our body, usually without us thinking twice about them, and slowed them down, stretching them to fill a space where you have to sit with them for a while.

Your work has a performative element, and in the work at Hillyer, featured yourself in the video. Do you consider yourself a performance based artist? Do you ever do live performances, or is your intent always to create video content as the final piece?

I really don’t think of myself as a performance-artist and I also have never performed live with my work. Typically, for these kinds of pieces, I’ll get an idea of some way I can alter the experience of my body and then I enact that in a very private and personal way. It’s not until I feel like I have discovered something from that experience that I begin to craft it into something that others can experience too. And I guess that’s a kind of performance also. I mean, we do this all the time on social media, right? We craft an identity or an image that brings a personal experience into a digital public space. But I want to come away from this in my practice. I’m becoming increasingly interested in loosening my grip and relinquishing control in my own work. I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if instead of asking “What do I have to make?” I asked, “What do others need me to make?”

Where does this inspiration come from in your pieces? What message do you hope comes across in your work?

The inspiration for Song of the Wild really came from my mindfulness meditation practice. This has fundamentally changed the way I think about myself and the world, the way I behave, and the way I interact with others. I guess I’m ultimately trying to provide small glimpses of other experiences of consciousness within this current experience we’re all having.

You recently relocated from Baltimore to Oregon. Can you tell us if this change has impacted your work? Have you noticed any differences between the two arts communities?

I moved to Oregon to teach art and design at Western Oregon University and I really love it. The dynamics between East coast and West coast is a very real thing. There’s generally a kind of a quieter slowness to the pacing here and I sense this do-anything-try-everything attitude. It’s always a little tricky to move to a new place and to try to find ways to insert your work into their spaces. Undoubtedly, the best way to do this though is by developing relationships and building community. I love the community that is developing around me here, it is very nurturing and supportive and when opportunities come from those relationships it makes me want to use the work to pour back into those people.

What are you working on now? Do you have any exhibitions or projects you are working on?

I have a show coming up in 2021 at the Littman + White galleries in Portland called Do You Know Where You Are? that will use my own personal medical experiences and contemporary image theory to create a full sensory experience. I’m also working on a new project called Banana Colored Funk that turns the gallery into an ad hoc treatment facility full of color, sound, and movement that provides viewers with resources for emotional healing.

Stephanie Garmey has received individual artist’s grants from the Maryland State Arts Council in Crafts and Painting and the Mayor’s Advisory Committee on Arts and Culture in Painting. Stephanie teaches in the Drawing and General Fine Arts Departments at the Maryland Institute College of Art, teaching Mixed Media Book Arts, Nature Drawing, and Cut Paper 2D to 3D. She received her MFA from the Maryland Institute College of Art, Hoffberger School of Painting in 1995, where she studied with Grace Hartigan. Stephanie has an MA in Painting from Purdue University in Indiana and a BFA from the Maryland Institute College of Art. She lives and works in Baltimore, MD.

Pathways was on view at Hillyer on March 6 – 29, 2020.

Much of your work centers around meditations on nature. How did you become interested in natural habitats and how did you choose which animals from around the world to depict?

Growing up my backyard was Rock Creek Park in Maryland. I explored the woods and lake looking at natural plants and wildlife. As an adult, I began going camping, kayaking and taking hiking trips. My trips included the Eastern Shore in Maryland, Appalachian Trail, Cape Cod, Vermont, and Maine, as well as rural areas overseas in Ireland, Scotland, England, and France. Part of the pleasure in walking and sitting in nature is to slow down and learn to see and listen to what’s around you. I found that spending time in nature was my truth and my way to meditate.

As for choosing animals from around the world, I first go with what the animal looks like. Then, I research the animal to find out their location, habitat, behavior, size, and weight. I like watching documentaries on animals. For example, I saw a documentary on the savannah elephant and how the matriarch leads her herd under a canopy of stars at night to salt caves in Africa to eat salt. The matriarch knows to do this every few years and it has been passed down for thousands of years. Afterwards, I was inspired to make an 8-foot female elephant out of wood and reed. I made a whole nocturnal exhibition about Africa with the Matriarch being the center of the show.

For the exhibition at Hillyer, I wanted to open up the locations to be from around the world.

Your collection of natural objects and taxidermy is quite extensive and you work with various media such as cut paper, encaustics, book arts, and embroidery. Where do you find these materials and what is your process of choosing the material for your works?

I spent over 30 years as a painter. I would collect organic matter and taxidermy to draw and paint from. When I started teaching Nature Drawing, I began collecting more taxidermy for my class to work from. I keep this collection at Maryland Institute College of Art.

In 2008, I started working with cut paper and mixed media. I love taking workshops during the summer to learn new media and to be the student instead of the teacher. This is where I have learned how to make paper and explore encaustics, screen printing, etching, ceramics, book arts, cut paper, paper engineering, and embroidery. Some of the workshops have been at Penland School of Crafts, Women’s Studio Workshop, Haystack Mountain School of Crafts, The Center for Book Arts, and Truro Center for the Arts at Castle Hill.

When I start an idea, I sketch it out and let the inspiration flow on paper. Then, I brainstorm on how I want to approach it. I still paint but now I have many more ways to consider how to make the work.

Your work in this exhibition examines the ways in which animals balance their ecosystems and explores how humans also affect this balance. What do you hope viewers take away from your work?

My work has always been about nature, plant life, and animals. What has changed is expanding my choice of medium. Also, more and more when I research the animals or places they live, I keep running into problems they are having. So I did not set out to only pick animals with problems in their environment. Sometimes the animals are thriving. I felt I could not ignore how the world is rapidly changing because of humans encroaching animals’ environments through cutting down their habitats or through excessive hunting and pollution.

When people come to my show, I hope they see the whimsy, curiosity, and love towards all things natural. I want to elevate the animals to greatness to celebrate the shear uniqueness of their existence in the world. Perhaps they will go home and read more about one of the animals and learn more about them.

Your husband, Quentin Moseley, is also an artist. What’s it like to both be working artists and teachers? Do you ever collaborate on artistic projects?

It has really worked out well for almost 40 years! When we have 8-hour days in separate studios, we never resent or ask “Why are you spending so much time on your art?”. We are both doing the same thing. We sometimes come together and visit each other’s studio but not all the time. It is good to know when to comment and when not to.

We both teach at The Maryland Institute College of Art in different departments. Quentin is in Printmaking and I am in Drawing and General Fine Arts. That environment for both of us has been rewarding in working with talented students and colleagues who have become friends and community throughout the years. We both like to rework our classes to have some new ideas every year. This can be fun and very creative coming up with projects to keep the students engaged as well as us.

As for collaborating, we have talked about doing some projects together in the future. We have both helped each other with each other’s projects. If Quentin has a large neon installation, I have helped him with installing them from time to time. Quentin is a great carpenter and has made all my platforms, wall shelves, and painting stretchers for my work. I ask for his expertise in helping me construct complicated structures like the Matriarch Elephant or a full size reed canoe.

You currently teach Mixed Media Book Arts, Nature Drawing, and Cut Paper at Maryland Institute College of Art, How has your experience working with students impacted your work and what advice would you give to students and aspiring artists?

Working with students can be very fluid and rich. After introducing Projects for Book Arts or Cut Paper, everyone starts brainstorming in their sketchbooks. Then, we come together and start talking about all the ideas and materials and content. Some of these projects are made in 2 weeks. My students amaze me with their talent, ideas, and craftsmanship. I remind myself to be like my students—to free up the flow of ideas, to not think twice, to be decisive and do it! In my Nature Drawing class, we do drawings outside at a farm, or create setups in class. I make sure my students have opportunities to create drawings from life and work with all sorts of media, from charcoal to watercolor. I am teaching them how to see—to really look at the light and shadow and the forms in front of them. It is exciting to see the students develop their drawings in a 6-hour class.

As for advice, I tell my students to stay curious and to keep learning no matter how old they get. I tell them EVERYONE has awful days of creativity where nothing is working and you have no idea what you are doing. Then, on the flip side there will be days that you are humming along and you’re in the thick of it and it feels effortless. It is important to create a community after school ends to look at each other’s work and exchange ideas. Also, carving out a literal space to make work no matter how small, as well as time carving out time in your schedule. Continue to visit museums, view local shows, and apply to grants, exhibitions, and residencies. Do not get discouraged if you are not accepted right away. Keep trying and expanding places to apply. There is nothing wrong in taking a break from applying to stuff. Sometimes one needs to shut out the world and just make the work.

Emily Campbell is a visual artist and educator working in Baltimore, MD. She holds an MFA from Maryland Institute College of Art and a BA in visual arts from Mercyhurst University. Previous solo and group exhibitions include those at the Institute of Contemporary Art (Baltimore, MD), Maryland Art Place (Baltimore, MD), St, Johns College (Annapolis, MD), Gallery CA (Baltimore, MD), Push Gallery (Asheville, NC), The Delaware Contemporary (Wilmington, DE), School 33 (Baltimore, MD), and Arlington Art Center (Arlington, VA). She has participated in residencies at Can Serrat (Barcelona, Spain), the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center (Nebraska City, NE), Vermont Studio Center (Johnson, VT), and Woodstock Byrdcliffe Guild (Woodstock, NY). Campbell currently teaches at Maryland Institute College of Art and Anne Arundel Community College.

Outliers was on view at Hillyer on March 6 – 29, 2020.

Your exhibition centers around themes of dystopia and detachment. How did you become interested in these themes and why did you decide to focus on the experiences of “outliers”?

I initially was interested in the theme of detachment for formal reasons. My drawings and paintings use very uniform and deliberate lines, and everything is described with the same amount of detail. This creates a certain level of predictability even when there are uncontrollable and inexplicable actions among the figures—I am intrigued by this contradiction. Additionally, I often depict a group of people that are closely interacting with one another but there is a massive emotional distance at the same time. My work adopts the visual vocabulary of comics but due to the unsettling detachment it is more difficult to decipher the motives and psychology of the individuals.

I became interested in the theme of dystopia due to the inspiration I find in a range of sources, including sci fi, botanical illustration, ancient mythologies and historical imagery. The fusion of diverse subjects generally creates an unsettling hybridity to the character and landscapes, producing the dystopian vision. I decided to have the focus be on the experiences of “outliers” because I am fascinated with remote, precarious, and claustrophobic spaces and how these spaces could produce atypical psychology and detached behavior in their inhabitants.

How do you use landscape and scenery to convey the inner thoughts and desires of the figures you depict? What relationships are you exploring?

An example of landscape being used to convey the inner thoughts of a person would be in my painting called Reverie. In this work there are two stacked images, the image above depicts the edge of a sharp cliff with massive purple and white clouds in the background. The landscape is isolated, simultaneously alluring and dangerous. Below this is a portrait of a person with their eyes closed and head down facing, there are a pair of hands gently holding the face. The landscape could express either the silent dreams, wishes, or desires of the figure, and it’s ultimately for the viewer to decide the relationship.

You draw inspiration from Greek mythologies, sci-fi illustrations, and historical imagery to explore ritual and hedonism. Are there any specific narratives or characters you are drawn to or reference in your works?

I am interested in rituals and other events where usual hierarchies and norms are suspended. To provide an example, a historical event that I have recently referenced in my work is the military parade of Caesar on his official entry to Rome. Italian renaissance artist Andrea Mantegna recreated the elaborate procession and depicted soldiers, musicians, the spoils of war, exotic animals, and captives along with Caesar on a triumphal chariot—all featured to form an awe-inspiring depiction of the event. I am drawn to this historical event because of the range of human interactions, folly, and struggles that took place.

Your recent work incorporates 3D objects made of plaster and stoneware with your paintings and drawings. What made you decide on these forms and what is your process for creating them?

The vases are wheel thrown and decorated with underglaze while the other clay and plaster sculptures are hand built. Some of the sculptures were made out of curiosity to see what parts of my paintings—rocks, plants, etc. would look like as three dimensional objects. Additionally, the process of making the paintings is slow, they take me a long time to make and involve a lot of revisions. I enjoy working sculpturally because the process is more physical and I can often work through ideas faster.

Similar to the line work of my paintings—highly controlled, yet depicting inexplicable actions, I am attracted to the ordered symmetry and stability of the vases and place them with my paintings of precarious landscapes or interactions.

What are you currently working on and how do you hope your work evolves in the future?

I am plotting and planning new ideas for my paintings and sculptures. One of my new studio goals is to enlarge the scale of my work. I would also like to do more hand building with clay. I feel that I can be playful when I work with different media and push my ideas further into abstraction.

Born in Poland and raised in Germany, Zofie King immigrated to the United States in 1998. After graduating with a psychology degree in 2002, she studied interdisciplinary craft at Towson University. For six years she worked in interior design while taking classes at MICA and the Corcoran, and devoted herself to her studio art practice in 2012. Currently, King is a sculptor working primarily with found objects, both conceptually and visually. She has had solo shows at the NVCC Margaret W. Fisher Art Gallery, DC Arts Center, Mount St. Mary’s University Gallery, and her work has been included in numerous group shows. King was part of the Sparkplug Collective from 2017-2019 and is currently a member of the Washington Sculptor’s Group.

Secular Relics and Apocryphal Fossils was on view at Hillyer on September 6 – 29, 2019.

How and why did you first become interested in cabinets of curiosity as a format for your work?

I started doing box assemblages in 2012, but the interest in cabinets of curiosity has been there throughout my life. Seeing reliquaries at the Dom in Cologne is one of my first memories, and I’ve spent endless hours at the Walters Art Museum’s Chamber of Wonders in Baltimore. I’ve always been most attracted to the work of artists such as Joseph Cornell, Louise Nevelson, and Ed & Nancy Kienholz, who use found objects, collage, and assemblage as their main methods of creating work. There is something appealing to a vignette of objects that evoke memories and emotions.

Why did you choose to create “fossils” out of holiday molds and why do you mix them with objects that reference religion and contemporary issues?

I like to think about how traditions originated, and how they morphed into their present state. Holidays like Easter and Christmas have evolved over centuries and are based on a mashup of sometimes conflicting customs (e.g. pagan vs. Christian), as well as cultural phenomena that are pretty recent. Yet there is a perception that they have always existed in the same way. So the fossils are tongue in cheek, a fossil being a preserved organism of a past geological time, a piece of evidence from another era. There is another definition of a fossil, which is a person that is resistant to change.

Has immigrating from Poland to Germany and then to the United States influenced your work?

Yes, in the sense that the work examines objects as evidence. There is definitely a nostalgic element to this, hanging on to certain things just because they evoke the strongest emotions. I was a toddler when my family left Poland, and I have no actual memory of it, but some of the belongings we left behind during the cold war found their way back to me via visiting relatives, and those helped establish some sort of a connection to the past. When I left Germany as a 19-year-old, I had to think of what I really wanted to bring along, since I could only take two suitcases on the plane. I’d always been a collector of curiosities (shells, fossils, little trinkets), and I brought those, along with random mementos that had a story behind them. The things you tend to be attached to are the often the ones connected to stories or events you want to be reminded of.

You primarily used found objects to create the work in your exhibition at Hillyer. Where do you find these materials and what is the process of choosing material for your sculptures?

Aside from finding things in nature, perusing antique stores, estate sales, thrift stores, and flea markets, very kind people will give me things they think I’m likely to use. Sometimes I already have a concept and know what sorts of things I might need, other times an object will appear before me and inspire a piece. I do quite a bit of research in addition to finding these materials (e.g. The Reliquary Effect by Cynthia Hahn was hugely helpful with the Hillyer exhibition), and when I use an object, or mold of an object. It’s there for a purpose and has a specific meaning.

What’s next for you? Will you continue using the cabinets of curiosity format and antique holiday molds, or are you heading in a different direction?

Cabinets of curiosity will very likely always play some part, but even in this current show I started moving away from holiday themed molds. I will definitely continue exploring the idea of molds more generally; I’ve been using resin, paper, fabric, and sculpting compound to create positives and negatives of objects. This is partly inspired by the plaster casts of the Vesuvius victims in Pompeii, which have always intrigued me, so I’m currently exploring that further.

Emily Fussner (b. 1991, Indonesia) is an artist based in Northern Virginia. She holds a BS in Printmaking from Indiana Wesleyan University (2013) and an MFA in Visual Arts from George Mason University (2019). Studying abroad with Gordon College in Orvieto, Italy, and with American University’s MFA Studio Berlin residency program also influenced her greatly. Fussner has professional experience in graphic design, teaching printmaking and papermaking, and arts administration. In the past she worked for the Joan Hisaoka Healing Arts Gallery in Washington, DC, and most recently curated exhibitions as the Graduate Professional Assistant for Fenwick Gallery at George Mason University.

In Light Of- was on view at Hillyer on August 2 – September 1, 2019.

What first intrigued and attracted you to the mundane spaces that most people over look?

That is a good question! It’s hard to say what was the first intrigue, or if I can remember. But I do know that my semester abroad in Italy with Gordon College, my second year of undergrad, is where I learned to take seeing more seriously. It was the first time I was living abroad without my family, and there was so much to take in. It was unlike any place I had ever been: the textures, the light, the architecture. Our drawing professor read to us from architect Juhani Pallasmaa’s Eyes of the Skin, and I held on to the quote, “Focused vision confronts us with the world, whereas peripheral vision envelops us in the flesh of the world.” I’ve always had an eye for detail, but this helped me begin to consider my environment differently. When I returned to the US, I wanted to continue paying attention and seeing with a sense of wonder. And a lot of life happens in mundane spaces and in transit between places.

In your work scale seems to be a major component. How do you decide the size of a piece, whether it will be a large scale installation or an intimate book? How do you connect the two together?

Scale is important to my work, and I explore it in different ways, whether it is a large installation, the intimate size of a book, or the one-to-one scale produced by tracing or casting (as in my practice of casting cracks, not present in the current exhibition though referenced). With a background in printmaking, I often work in multiples, which allows scale to expand through quantity.

I’m drawn to architecture and spaces where I become very aware of human scale and movement. In my photographs of cast light, I try to include at least some small element of furniture or architecture that gives a sense of place and scale. Within the gallery, working in an installation format or larger scale creates another sense of space. We approach the work differently, and I like that physical interaction, the possible walking under or over or into the work. In both a similar and very different way, books gather, condense, and unfold space. There is a pace and sequence of information the viewer takes in, and a movement through the work. I’m a very tactile person and I love when it is possible to touch an artwork–so I also appreciate the connection books create, since they are meant to be touched and held.

I find that each piece tends to know what it wants to be, and sometimes the scale isn’t a very conscious decision. Other times, experimenting in the studio helps determine that outcome. For example, “Threshold” is a variation of an idea I’ve had for awhile. I first started working in cut-outs of various reflective and translucent materials on a much smaller scale in Berlin last summer, at GlogauAIR with American University’s MFA summer abroad program. Those cut shape and light compositions were small, on shelves, and though the size worked and drew viewers in, I knew I wanted to try that on a larger scale. I wanted to be able to walk into it—which is possible with “Threshold” although it requires care and for some may feel a bit close.

Why do you like working with paper as a medium?

Papermaking is a very haptic process. You measure a lot by touch: the consistency of the pulp fiber, how thick or thin the concentration of pulp feels in the vat. The general process of making paper requires breaking down a base fiber and literally beating it to a pulp. The breaking down, beating, pressing, transforms the fiber into a new material; the structure and strength is formed by the interlacing of the fibers. It is a very physical, methodical process that allows time to think or not think. At some point I thought about it on a metaphorical level, relating to my own experience with the brittle bone condition, Osteogenesis Imperfecta (OI), of breaking and re-building, of strength formed through interdependence rather than independence. Perhaps for similar reasons, I like working with fibers like abaca, flax, or kozo–they can be formed to make very delicate, thin, translucent paper, and yet they are surprisingly strong and resilient. Whether I make the paper or not, I also like using thing sheets as they transmit light well.

How has the bone condition, Osteogenesis Imperfecta impacted your work?

OI has influenced so much of my development, my way of seeing and moving. I mean, I’m smaller, closer to the ground. I try to notice the ground as to watch my step and prevent falls, and I think that’s probably how I began noticing the patterns of cobblestones or cracks. My day-to-day life is fairly “normal,” but holds an underlying tension that I’m still fragile enough that a simple action gone wrong can have significant consequences. I’ve found that even when I’m not making the work specifically about this, that the materials I use (even aside from the paper mentioned before) tend to inhabit this tension between what is fragile and strong, what might seem to be strong but is actually brittle, and vice versa. Similarly, when I discovered Kinstugi (the Japanese art repairing broken ceramics with gold lacquer, highlighting the brokenness and repair), it resonated with me on an embodied level, and I became interested in exploring that concept through my own methods and approach to place and the body.

What do you hope the audience achieves by interacting with your installation at IA&A at Hillyer?

I hope In Light Of– creates a peaceful, still space for viewers, an encounter where one can slow down, look closely, and reflect. I hope it helps people ask new questions and see their usual surroundings in a new light.

You have been living overseas for large segments of your life. How have the places you’ve lived impacted your art?

I’m so thankful for the opportunity to grow up in several countries–it shaped my worldview in unique and I think helpful ways, taught me to consider different perspectives. I was five years old when my family moved back to the US from Indonesia, and then I was 13 when we moved to New Zealand and 18 when we left. Adjusting to different cultures and places required a lot of observing. And as each context was so different and far away from the other, I think it taught me to connect to place deeply. Responding directly to place is a key component of my artwork. When I lived in Italy, for the second time, after college, is when I first began casting crevices in the ground with paper pulp; and during my six weeks in Berlin was when I started more intentionally working with cut-shape light and shadow sculptures—so the time in those places has more directly influenced my current work.