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I Love to Hate You: Q & A with Damon Arhos

Damon Arhos presents I Love to Hate You as an extension of his art practice, which seeks to expose the destructive nature of prejudice and uses his identity as a gay American as its frame. A native of Austin, Texas, Arhos explores how individual experiences influence gender roles, sexual orientation, and human relationships. A graduate of Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore with an MFA in Studio Art, Arhos lives and works in the Washington, DC metro area.

damonarhos.com

You work in a variety of mediums. Can you discuss your process in determining what materials and media are most effective in creating your vision and delivering the message as a whole?

When I began working as an artist, I was a painter. Over the years, as my work evolved to address issues of identity, I began to realize that many of the ideas I wanted to express would translate better in other mediums. This is not to say that painting is not an effective way of providing a thought-provoking experience. I just decided to challenge myself to explore other ways of doing things—and, as such, in addition to painting, began producing sculpture, installation, videos, etc. Today, I consider myself an interdisciplinary artist. I always begin with the end— knowing what idea I want to convey to a viewer—and then analyze different options for putting things together. Sometimes I decide upon one way of doing things, and then in the middle of the process change course, as I find another approach or medium might work better. Most importantly, I never have a blueprint, so to speak, and have found that much of my reward as an artist is through the process of investigation.

Why are duality and conflicting narratives such important themes throughout your works?

I am one artist among many who use their work to highlight ways in which our culture opposes itself. Of course, we all have our own viewpoints that we use as bases for our art practices. With my own, I have chosen to explore issues of gender roles, sexual orientation, and human relationships given my identity as a gay American. We live in a time when those of us who are part of the LGBTQ community see so many dichotomies. For example, we can discuss the June 2015 U.S. Supreme Court ruling that established same-sex marriage in all 50 states versus the June 2016 Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando, Florida. From my perspective, these two events—which occurred approximately one year apart—represent affirmation and rejection, the landmark of love and inclusion versus the tragedy of hatred and discrimination. Historically, these types of puzzling conflicts have existed for centuries. However, via my own art practice, I hope to show others what it is like to experience these contradictions every day.

Your work often references historical events or cultural symbols. Do you find that current conditions also influence themes in your works and artistic practices?

Always! As an artist, and in the context of creating contemporary art, I do not believe that the past—in and of itself—is enough to capture and sustain anyone’s attention. In addition, I also do not believe that my own personal story is so compelling that it will captivate those who view my work. As such, I consistently aim to make my work relevant in the present moment and to access some common cultural experience. This certainly does not mean that I do not appropriate my own understanding of the history of art or my own life experiences. And, ultimately, even if I have my own overlay upon the work, viewers are bringing their own perspectives to it—which makes it even more important to strike a familiar chord. For me, the fun is in drawing the viewer in with something they think they know, then twisting this narrative so that their experience is completely different.

Why do you think it is so important to show the effects of prejudice in relation to modern-day issues and concerns?

I cannot deny that I am a pretty emotional guy. It never has taken a lot to hurt my feelings. And, over the years, I have been on the receiving end of bigoted behavior many times per my sexual orientation. While these situations definitely helped me grow, I never will forget how they made me feel sadness, isolation, and anger. Now that I am older, I more fully understand myself and others. I also know how to turn these types of experiences (when they happen, and sometimes they still do) into something more positive and more powerful. I often think of my younger self trying to sort through all of this, and hope that somehow, my work will help change outcomes for others. Ultimately, I know that prejudice creates and extends human suffering, and this is something that we all should work to eradicate.

With this exhibition, do you aim to reach particular audiences, perhaps those who have less immediate experience of the HIV/AIDS crisis?

I meant for the paintings in this exhibition to speak to the stigma of HIV/AIDS, highlighting the fact that the shame and humiliation associated with the disease persists. Of course, many years have passed since the epidemic began, and the many issues associated with it have evolved. However, as we all have diverse experiences of HIV/AIDS given our ages and life experiences, so too do we have differing awareness of these matters. The paintings provide a platform for discussion among everyone on this continuum of knowledge, as each has something to gain from these interactions. It is no accident that they depict that which is quite mundane—the bottle for a pill that manages, rather than cures, this disease. Everyone knows what it is like to take medication. Yet, does everyone know what it is to live with HIV/AIDS? And, what responsibilities, if any, does the work bestow once its seen? Do you glance and move along—or contemplate, discuss, and initiate change? Each of us must decide.

in 2018 / Artist Interviews 0 comments

Nine Patch: Q&A with Olivia Tripp Morrow

Olivia Tripp Morrow received her BFA in sculpture at Syracuse University, graduating cum laude in December of 2012. Her most recent works are video and sculptural installations that address concepts relating to beauty, intimacy, memory, sexuality, and the commodification of women’s bodies. Morrow’s work primarily utilizes found and donated textiles as material, which are imbued with social and cultural values as well as personal histories. Through her work, Morrow draws connections between status quo notions of beauty/luxury and the perpetuation of harmful social norms and expectations placed on women and girls.  Morrow’s work has been exhibited nationally and internationally, and she has permanent installations and works on-loan at the National Institute of Health’s Clinical Center in Bethesda, MD, the Anacostia Arts Center in Washington, DC, and the Arlington Art Center in Arlington, VA, where she is a current Resident Artist.

www.otmorrow.com

Your work addresses the human body and the experiences of human bodies through abstract installations. Can you tell us a bit about how you arrived at this theme?

The core of my work and studio practice comes from a personal context. I was twelve when I discovered that my body was perceived by my peers as a mishmash of individual physical parts entirely separate from each other, and which could be rated according to a numerical scale. In high school I learned that my value as a person could be defined entirely by my physical appearance. As an adolescent, my appeal for perfectionism mutated into a crippling fear of making mistakes or being perceived by others as inadequate—physically or otherwise. (This was before smart phones or Instagram, so I would imagine it’s only getting harder for young girls today.) Grappling with notions of beauty, bodies, and intimacy, as well as social structures that attempt to exclude and invalidate people who don’t fit neatly into conventional measures of beauty, have been important to why I create work and what I want it to do.

It’s practically impossible to filter out the incessant bombardment of media and advertisements that reinforce harmful and equally narrow definitions of beauty, bodies, and gender-appropriate behaviors, all of which normalize obsessive fixations on so-called imperfections and breed exclusivity. Once I realized what I was looking at I saw it everywhere: relentless reminders to buy whatever product or thing that would seem to simultaneously present and offer solutions to the apparently boundless inadequacies of my appearance. This subliminal conditioning can be highly effective, but knowing what strings these industries are trying to pull at can at least give us a chance to resist them.

What is the purpose of using donated materials in your work?

For the past few years my work has been driven by donated women’s clothing, undergarments, bedsheets, and other used textiles that I began collecting in 2015. Along with these donated items, many women shared personal stories associated with them: Fond memories of family, travel, and past lovers were contrasted with darker recollections such as an outfit that someone was wearing when they were assaulted. Like much of my favorite work by Sonia Gomes, Shinique Smith, and Senga Nengudi, whose found and donated materials seemed dense with meaning upon arrival, the donated textiles I received were imbued with personal history, familial tradition, social narrative, and political context.

In the context of the current exhibition at Hillyer, Crochet II is a single-channel looped video that utilizes a blanket that was crocheted by my great-grandmother. The significance of the blanket itself lies in its personal and familial sentimentality, and implications of domesticity. The intricate, open floral patterning of the blanket and mesmerizing shapes that at times resemble female genitalia might give the initial impression that it is delicate and decorative. However, its actual strength and durability defy these assumptions once it’s discovered that a person is moving around underneath, pulling and stretching the fabric to its limit. Similarly, the five printed photo quilts in Nine Patch are comprised of thousands of selfies taken while underneath used crocheted blankets, and simultaneously conceal and reveal my body.

While I grew up using crocheted blankets and handmade quilts as functional objects that were made by family members and passed down over generations, I never saw them being made by those family members. By the time I was born, the generation that labored over these textiles had passed, and their tradition and skill set largely disappeared with them. It was only as an adult that I began to consider the labor that went into their creation, and all the implications of that labor in the context of times and places that I never lived in.

Do you plan out your ideas meticulously before making an installation, or are you more improvisational? Can you take us through your creative process?

My materials and their physical properties guide my formal decisions while creating new work. I spend a lot of time experimenting with and discovering the limits of materials, such as how much something will stretch or bend, the weight something can hold, the shapes it can take, the way it might transform in different spaces. Even when I have a clear idea about some new piece or body of work, I rely on my intuition and remain willing to abandon parts of the work in exchange for a potential discovery that I might not find otherwise. Executing procedural steps has never been very exciting to me, so it’s often the curiosity about “what would happen if...” that leads me forward in my studio. There’s freedom in this process; permission for boldness, taking risks, and failure from which better ideas are (sometimes) born.

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You entered art school to study painting and illustration. What drove you to make a shift into abstract installations?

Having started my early work as a painter, I am influenced by formal techniques of painting: color used to create receding or expanding space, light that reveals/conceals, and the varied expressions of human emotion. But as a freshman in college I found working exclusively with paint and 2D surfaces limiting. I wanted to get lost in experimentation with new materials and processes, so I transferred to the Sculpture department. I am also captivated by the potential for artwork to completely transform my relationship to objects and physical space. Exploring scale and spatial relationships and considering the ways we navigate spaces translates well into this medium. In my third year as an undergraduate student, I realized that it was possible to essentially make “paintings” that people could walk under, around, or through, and which could be experienced differently from a multitude of perspectives. Installation has dominated my practice ever since.

What concepts are you currently exploring in your studio, and what kind of work can we expect to see from you in the future?

Lately I’ve been working really hard to push past certain comfort zones in my studio practice. The photo quilts in Nine Patch and the work I made for a simultaneous two-person show (called Within/Between, with artist Jen Noone at the Arlington Art Center) were an important departure from that comfort zone. While making work for Within/Between, one of the things that both Jen and I were reflecting on in our own way was materiality and function. One of my pieces (Ribbon House, 2018) is a large, shelter-like structure that is robust and meticulously constructed using scrap and found wood. Instead of hardware or glue, the structure is held together with materials normally considered decorative or inane: ribbons and beads.

It was a huge challenge to put these two exhibitions together within a week of each other, but the works in each were influenced by each other, so it feels really good to have them open simultaneously. Right now, I am in the middle of changing studios, but I’m excited to start a new residency at the Arlington Art Center and to get back to work.

in 2018 / Artist Interviews 0 comments

Measuring the Weight of Longing: Q & A with Gayle Friedman

Gayle Friedman is an artist who was raised in Birmingham, Alabama. She lives and works in Washington, DC. For the past decade she’s been a jeweler, teacher, and the founder of Studio 4903, a group art studio space.  Friedman received a DC Commission on Arts and Humanities Fellowship Award in 2017. In addition to her solo exhibition at Hillyer, Friedman also has work in the exhibition “Intimate Gathering” opening June 2, at WAS Gallery in Bethesda, MD. Friedman is an artist in residence at Red Dirt Studio in Mt. Rainier, MD.

gaylefriedmanart.com

You often present your ceramic work in tableaus inside boxes, much like jewelry. How has making jewelry informed your work?

I actually see a lot of jewelry in my work—some of it shows up in the techniques I use that are taken directly from metalsmithing, such as incorporating soldered chains in a piece, or using rivets to cold-connect things. I also use sterling silver and even gemstones in some of my work. Several of the pieces in this show incorporate wire to attach or wrap things—all common in jewelry-making.

In this show I’m working with a lot of previously used things—I find their historical and emotional content very compelling. I do the same thing with a lot of my jewelry. In fact, I love working with people who want me to take something they’ve got and transform it into something more relevant or that they can use in a new way. Several years ago I made a series of reclaimed fur pieces that began when a friend gave me a collar from one of her grandmother’s fur coats.

Finally, I think I pay attention to minute details much as a jeweler does, which is easier to do when a piece is small. However, I’m excited to be going larger and breaking free of some of the size, weight and even balance restrictions necessary when making functional jewelry.

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Tools are a dominant motif in your work. Can you talk a little bit about your fascination with tools in general?

The tools go way back to my early childhood. Summers in Alabama are hot and I’d go down beneath my grandparents’ house to the dirt-floored basement to cool off and play at Papa Izzy’s workbench. I can still smell it—that kind of musty, iron aroma. He owned a hardware store before the depression and had quite a collection of tools. Just the objects themselves fascinated me. I remember being especially fond of the vice and his hammers. After he died, dad got all of his tools and created a really cool shop in our basement, where I’d often go to seek refuge. Dad was always doing projects around the house but he never showed me and I never asked how to use any of his stuff. It sure made an impression on me, though.

And after he died, what I most wanted were some of his old tools. At the time I had no idea what I’d do with them. All of the work I’m doing now began when I made a mold of dad’s ball peen hammer and began casting clay replicas of it.

What does your process look like when making your Delftware pieces? Does your photography of decomposing and broken plant materials inform how you treat porcelain?

I studied Anthropology in college and did several digs in Alabama during and after school. I spent a lot of time in the dirt, searching for the tiniest pieces of information. Almost everything we found was broken.

Many of the things I make feel like artifacts, and while they’re not necessarily dirty, I often tear or break them because I figure that just about everything ends up that way. Sometimes I’ll break something on purpose and glue it back together again. Many of the delft pieces in my mom’s collection broke over the years, and one of my dad’s chores was to glue them back together. In fact, this week, a vase he had repaired broke apart again and I had to re-glue it. It was so strange to think that he was the last person to have paid close attention to this crack; his hands were the last to touch the glued surfaces and now I was revisiting them. It felt so intimate, like we were having a conversation.

I’m enamored with my compost pile and find the decay to be quite beautiful. The rust I use in many pieces is a part of that process of decay in metal. We tend to think of metal as dead, but I really like how inanimate materials also have a sort of life that shows up through time and their disintegration or exposure to oxygen.

Tell us about your experiences with Studio 4903. Does sharing studio space with other artists impact your work?

I am so happy to work in shared art studio spaces. I founded Studio 4903 12 years ago because I didn’t want to work out of my home. I wanted to be part of a community of people who I could problem solve with, bounce ideas off of, be inspired by. I also have a firm belief that many together can accomplish much more than an individual on her own. Interestingly, I’m now in two shared studio spaces! I’ve been doing an artist residency at Red Dirt for about a year and a half, and it’s there that I’ve expanded my process beyond creating jewelry.

I find it really interesting how working in proximity to others can affect my work in subtle ways: I’ll try a color of paint I’ve never used before, or tear something and realize that one of my studio mates tears and cuts a lot of her work. And then there’s the conversations we have, sometimes in structured meetings or critiques, but often over a quick lunch or chance encounter. The dialogue helps shape who I am as an artist. I’m curious by nature so I want to know what others think and feel—about what they’re doing as well as about my work. These moments give me ideas, things to incorporate or reject, often a new or better way of looking at my work. They can be very challenging and even crazy-making, but I love it all!

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How has your work evolved over time? What are your next steps in your body of work?

Many people don’t know that I was making ceramic sculpture back in the 90’s. I got lured away from the studio to help found an alternative school, Fairhaven School, in Prince George’s County, where I spent 7 years. When I left the school I knew I wanted to immerse myself in a creative practice again, but didn’t really know where to begin. My ceramic pieces had begun large but had gotten smaller over the years, so it seemed natural to explore jewelry. I loved the idea that I could create these intimate art pieces that people would literally carry on their bodies. Early on I made more conceptual jewelry, such as a series on waste and luxury. One example from that series is a pair of plunger earrings made of silver and terra cotta clay, with a tiny diamond hidden up inside the clay part of the plunger—as if any plunger could tuck away something as precious as that! But I really wanted to have a larger audience for my jewelry, so I began making more functional, accessible work.

More recently I’ve realized that I have different kinds of questions I want to try and answer. That’s where I feel most engaged right now. I’m interested in how people in other cultures treat, use and discard family items and heirlooms. I’m going to spend time doing some research on that and see how I might be able to collaborate with anthropologists and artists.

I’ve also been interested in doing more mantel installations. I think there are lots of people who’ve stored things in boxes because they don’t want to throw them away, but don’t know what to do with them. I’d love to collaborate with them and their stuff—to open those boxes and reimagine those things in new ways.

in 2018 / Artist Interviews 0 comments

Objectual Abstractions: Q & A with Emilio Cavallini

English | Italiano

A renowned fashion designer, Emilio Cavallini is known the all over the world for his innovations in stockings and hosiery. In a career spanning three decades, Cavallini has collaborated with design houses ranging from Mary Quant to Dior, Balenciaga, Alexander McQueen, and more. Beginning in 2010, he gave up designing for women’s legs in order to devote himself entirely to designing on canvas and creating fine art, but not too much has changed—we can still find his unique artistic expression, dedication and elegance in his practice.

Cavallini’s fine art was first displayed to the public in early 2011 for a solo exhibition at the Triennale Expo in Milan. Emilio Cavallini’s masterpieces draw the spectator’s gaze into a new mystical world, seemingly comprised only of stockings. This trascendental effect is achieved by the perfect union between nylon thread, emptiness, mathematics and genius. In his hands, new mathematical discoveries, through complex processes, are developed into works of art.

In partnership with the Embassy of Italy and the Italian Cultural Institute, IA&A at Hillyer is currently exhibiting a retrospective of Cavallini’s works, including Fractals, Diagrams, Bifurcations and Actual-Infinity. Concurrently, the Italian Cultural Institute is exhibiting three stunning masterpieces inspired by the Italian Mannerist painter of the 13th century, Giacomo da Pontormo, creating an original union between old painting and new mathematical discoveries of our century.

Objectual Abstractions is on view at IA&A at Hillyer and at the Italian Cultural Institute (appointment only) from May 4-27, 2018. 

What makes nylon thread and stockings your medium of choice? Do you find there are mathematical principles inherent to the production of hosiery?

It was in designing and producing my first stockings that I identified the tools with which I have built my dream of creating art. The mathematical principles were applied after I designed and produced samples of stockings.

Do you draw your ideas before executing them? Can you tell us a little bit about how you go from concept to finished product?

The socks are designed so that they can be made by machines following my instincts for making fashion. All of my designs are also based on my knowledge about the world of art both ancient and modern.

What are your major inspirations? In conjunction with the exhibit at Hillyer, the Italian Cultural Institute is also showing some of your artworks inspired by Jacopo da Pontormo’s paintings. What drew you to these Mannerist works?

My inspiration comes from the street, commercials, movies, television, and from my fondness for art of the Greek Classical period and the Renaissance. Colors are important, and from the Renaissance I have drawn great inspiration from Pontormo, Rosso Fiorentino, Michelangelo, Raffaello, etc. Thus my colorful fractals were born, drawing on shades prevalent in those works.

You spend your time in Milan and New York. What has it been like to show your work in LA and now in Washington, DC?

Living in Italy, where art is very invasive and makes you lose your sense of what is modern, it was by hanging out in New York in the 60s that I gained strength and courage to undertake not only making fashion but also the creation of works of art. My passion for mathematics made my artistic work easier and more unique. Exhibiting my work not only in Italy but also in New York and Los Angeles and now Washington [DC] has been a great pleasure because I have been able to show my work to many more people.

What concepts are you exploring in your new work?

I am juxtaposing the mathematical concepts of my works with those of light and the colors of the rainbow of which it is composed.

OBJECTUAL ABSTRACTIONS: INTERVISTA CON EMILIO CAVALLINI

 

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Emilio Cavallini è oggi conosciuto in tutto il mondo prevalentemente in quanto stilista di moda di fama internazionale. Con una carriera che si estende per tre decenni, Cavallini ha collaborato con differenti case di moda, da Mary Quant a Dior, Balenciaga, Alexander McQueen e altre. Smise di vestire le gambe delle donne a partire dal 2010 per dedicarsi completamente al vestire tele, ma poco cambia; continuiamo a trovare la stessa arte, dedizione ed eleganza.

Per la prima volta nel 2011, le sue opere vengono finalmente mostrate al pubblico in occasione di una mostra personale offertagli dalla triennale di Milano. I capolavori di Emilio Cavallini cuciono lo sguardo dell’osservatore in questo nuovo mistico mondo apparentemente costruito dalle sole calze. Basta poco, peró, per realizzare che questo effetto trascendentale è dato in realtá dal precisissimo accostamento tra calze, vuoto, matematica e genialitá. Così le nuove scoperte matematiche, attraverso una elaborata sfida con la complessitá, diventano finalmente oggetto artistico.

A IA&A at Hillyer sono esposte venti delle sue opere inclusi Frattali, Diagrammi, Biforcazioni e Attuale-Infinito, in collaborazione con l’ambasciata italiana e L’Istituto Culturale Italiano dov’è possibile trovare tre grandi capolavori che prendono ispirazione dalle opere dell’artista manieristico italiano del sedicesimo secolo, Pontormo. Così ci viene presentato questo originalissimo sinolo tra vecchi dipinti e le nuove scoperte matematiche.

Objectual Abstractions è in esposizione a IA&A a Hillyer e all’Istituto Culturale Italiano (solo su appuntamento) dal 4 al 27 maggio 2018.

Cosa rende le fibre di nylon e i collant la tua scelta attraverso cui realizzare opere d’arte? Trovi la presenza di principi matematici anche nella realizzazione di calze?

È Stato disegnando e realizzando le prime calze che ho individuato nelle stesse gli strumenti con cui costruire il mio sogno di fare arte. I principi matematici sono stati applicati dopo che ho disegnato e realizzato i campioni di calze.

Disegni le tue idee prima di realizzarle? Ci diresti qualcosa in merito al processo da concetto a prodotto finito?

Le calze vengono disegnate, in modo che possano essere realizzate dalle macchine, seguendo il mio istinto nel fare moda. Tutti i miei disegni seguono inoltre la mia conoscenza del mondo dell’arte sia antica che moderna.

Quali sono le tue maggiori ispirazioni? Contemporaneamente all’esibizione a Hillyer l’istituto culturale italiano sta esibendo alcune delle tue opere d’arte ispirate dai quadri di Jacopo da Pontormo. Cosa ti ha condotto a queste opere in chiave mannieristica?

Le mie ispirazioni vengono dalla strada, dalla pubblicitá, dal cinema, dalla televisione oltre che la mia passione per l’arte classica greca e rinascimentale. I colori sono importanti e dal rinascimento ho tratto grande ispirazione come da Pontormo Rosso Fiorentino Michelangelo Raffaello ecc. Sono nati così i miei frattali colorati attingendo opera per opera i colori predominanti

Passi il tuo tempo tra Milano e New York. Com’è stato esibire il tuo lavoro a Los Angeles e attualmente a Washington, DC?

Vivendo in Italia, dove l’arte è molto invasiva e ti fa perdere la cognizione di ció che moderno, è stato frequentando New York dagli anni 60 che mi ha dato forza e coraggio di intraprendere oltre che fare moda la realizzazione di opere d’arte. La mia passione per la matematica ha reso il mio lavoro artistico più facile ed unico. Esibire il mio lavoro oltre che in Italia a New York e Los Angeles ed ora Washington [DC] è stata una grande soddisfazione poter far conoscere il mio lavoro sempre a più persone.

Quali concetti vorresti affrontare per le tue opere future?

Sto affiancando il concetto matematico delle mie opere a quello della luce ed ai colori arcobaleno della sua composizione.

in 2018 / Artist Interviews 0 comments

Lines, Folds, Bends, and Matter: Q & A with Anne Smith

Anne Smith is a visual artist and teacher in Washington, DC. Her art practice
spans disciplines of drawing, sculpture and printmaking to study variations on boundaries, paths, and
divisions of space. Her subject matter has included her childhood home, the side of the road, and other
spaces entirely made up or imagined.

Smith is also a teaching artist at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, and has taught drawing at
George Mason University in Fairfax, VA. She has been an assistant to artist Lou Stovall since 2010, where
she has assisted with framing, art installation, silkscreening, writing and a variety of other jobs around the
studio and the DC area.

Your works in To Bend / To Fold focus heavily on the use of black, which seems like a heavy contrast to your more colorful Potomac Prints series. How did you arrive at this mostly monochrome body of work?

For some reason, I have tended to make dense images (that is, with lots of material) for quite a while now. The first drawing I ever did that involved a really dense application of graphite was in 2005, and although the subject matter was very different, it took on this reflective quality with light, setting up a situation in which the image would change depending the viewer’s relationship to it and the light. So, I was hooked then on that interest in light reflection as well as density, and eventually have found myself in the place where I am now—making these charcoal and graphite drawings.

But, I don’t like to work on the same thing for too long! Sometimes I need a break, which is how I might end up making something really light and colorful, like the Potomac Prints series. Even though the bodies of work might look very different, often I find myself circling the same big ideas, just from another perspective.

What is drawing to you? How do you personally define a drawing?

Drawing comes back to the extension of a line. That line has the potential to exist in more than one way – it is first a deposit (or removal) of material on or into a surface, but it can also convince our minds to read more into it, like a line that becomes a road or a house or a shadow. So the line is both the thing itself and (in some cases) the image of a thing.

I think of my linear sculptures and some of my etchings as drawings, too. This has to do with the directness of the processes—working directly into material—as well as the linearity and plasticity/changeability of the materials. Conversely, I often imagine the structures in my drawings as objects, though I would only ever call these drawings. Printmaking can feel downright sculptural, too!

You seem to be inclined to minimalist structures and your works seem to allude to Richard Serra and other modernist heavyweights. Do you consider your work a continuation of the minimalist tradition or is it totally new to you? What other artists or artforms inspire you?

It’s true that in this series of work, I am trying to use as few lines as possible to create a complex structure, but at the same time, I’m doing this with an excess of material (lots of charcoal, or even in the quantity of loose lines that hum in the background of the images). When I’m working, the goal is to follow my own line of curiosity and questioning—if I find myself comparing my work to others’ or thinking too far down the line of how the piece will end up, I know right away that I’m not in the right place for making. What I strive for is to be in a state of making in which I’m trusting my hand and my process and my instincts to lead me to a place I cannot yet imagine.

I do like Richard Serra’s work, and people do make that association sometimes. But I find that I most connect with others whose working values and ways of approaching questions seem like my own, for example Martin Puryear or Janine Antoni. There are also several people locally or from other places I’ve worked and studied who have had huge impact on me. Talking to them is like a breath of fresh air and always resets me whenever I feel lost in the studio.

How do you go about getting ideas? Do you keep a sketchbook? How do you go from idea to final piece?

Ideas come from working! My sketchbook is mostly filled with writing and notes, or with line drawings when I am trying to work out a specific form. I also love taking walks and using my phone to photograph things that pique my interest. When I can, I print these out and tape them into a sketchbook for just this purpose—I like having them in physical form where I can flip through the pages, rather than taking the photo and then never looking at it again. So, walking and looking are forms of work as well.

Of course, there’s no substitute for just working with your materials, encountering problems, and working out solutions. Most of my ideas come not from planning or “brainstorming” but from being there in the moment working on a piece, paying attention as much as possible to where it wants to go. I don’t ever want to fully understand a piece before I’ve finished it (and maybe not for a long time after that). Otherwise, it’s not an interesting idea to me anymore.

You said that sculpture was going to be your next step. How do you see yourself approaching the concept of space with a 3D medium in the future?

I want to spend more time working sculpturally because I’ve always started with the drawing on paper and then moved to sculpture. I want to flip that around, or at least see where it takes me to start by working in three dimensions. In the latest sculpture that I have in the show, Reach, I use plexiglass for the first time and I’ve got a lot more to discover about working with that material. There are other materials that I’ve been attracted to for a while that I haven’t quite gotten myself to engage with physically yet—things like gravel, brick, roofing shingles and other materials more associated with building. I love working with wood, but I’d like to expand my vocabulary and see what happens.

in 2018 / Artist Highlight / Artist Interviews 0 comments