DCARTS

Plaster Transfers and Recycled Materials: Q & A with Melanie Gritzka Del Villar

Melanie Gritzka del Villar born 1982 of German-Philippine parents – has lived, worked and studied in Germany, Spain, England, Thailand, the US and the Philippines. With a background in figurative painting, the artist has long been drawn to the use of found surfaces and mixed media processes. 

Her practice is shaped by an ongoing exploration of ways in which disparate cultural, geographical and environmental elements can coexist. She is particularly concerned with the state of living in an increasingly fragmented and vulnerable world. This translates into a sensibility towards cast away objects, forgotten (hi)stories and overlooked surfaces as poetic portals and holders of latent possibilities for alternative narratives.

http://www.gritzkadelvillar.com/

Our exhibition at Hillyer examines the tie between Mexico and the Philippines. Can you elaborate on this relationship and what inspired you to make work about this subject matter?

Well, historically, Mexico and the Philippines were under domination of the Spanish empire and formed part of “Nuova Hispania” or “New Spain” from the 16th to 19th century. During this period, The Philippines were officially administered by Mexico. For two and a half centuries (1565 to 1815), huge vessels – also called the “Manila Galleon” or “Nave/Nao de China”- would navigate the Pacific, from the port of Acapulco (Mexico) to Manila (the Philippines). The complete trade route transported cargo such as silver, silk, porcelain, and spices, from Seville in Spain to the Mexican port of Veracruz, overland through strategically positioned cities such as Puebla, to the port of Acapulco, on to Manila and back. This colossal enterprise ensured a rich intermingling and assimi-lation of customs, traditions, language and aesthetics between both nations.

I was inspired to work on this subject when I first visited Mexico in 2015. I was curious to find a mango species called “Mango de Manila” in one of the markets and wanted to know more. Up to that point I was unaware of the shared history between Mexico and the Philippines. The more I found out about this connection, the more fascinated and excited I became about the whole subject matter. I guess the fact that I’m half Filipina from my mother’s side and having lived my teenage years in Spain makes the theme extra intriguing as it touches upon my own cultural roots.

What about found/discarded objects attracted you as to include them in your art?

I’ve been using found materials since my student days in the UK. During that time, found materials such as cardboard boxes were readily available. England was the third country I had lived in, hence the cardboard box was also a fitting metaphor for my own feeling of living in flux or “living out of a suitcase/box”. Since then, I have continued to be attracted to found objects and recycled materials wherever I’d find myself.

Having lived in several countries (Germany, Spain, UK, Thailand, The Philippines) my art is really shaped by an ongoing search for harmony out of disparate cultural, geographical and environmental elements. Found objects carry layers and a specific history, allowing me to engage in a dialogue with the item itself and my immediate environment. I consider overlooked surfaces and objects as poetic portals and holders of latent possibilities for alternative narratives.

More recently, the use of recycled materials has also come to reflect my philosophy of trying to live as a more conscious human being on an endangered planet. Using recycled and found materials for me is a practice that helps me to stay aware of my surroundings and to appreciate what is there…to find something beautiful in the discarded and to infuse it with new meaning. My driftwood series “Traces” is a good example here. By uplifting fragments from the flotsam and jetsam of our throwaway lifestyles, I hope to inspire audiences to challenge given hierarchies of value.

How do your pieces tie together present and future as you display trade routes developed in the 16th century with more recently found objects?

Good question. For me, the Puebla (Mexico) wall sections I’m portraying with the photographic plaster transfers, as well as the driftwood fragments I’ve collected from broken boats on the shores of Philippine islands hint at the layering of history over time. In both cases, what I’m capturing is the history of the object revealed through the scratches and different colours of paint. These layers may also symbolise the complexity of what makes up Mexican and Philippine culture. Regarding the future, I guess the fragility and brittleness of these paint layers could remind us how some as-pects (cultural, historical, etc) could be lost if we don’t try to appreciate and keep them alive.

The gel transferred maps act in a similar way. In this process, I enlarged the original image of the maps and then transferred the printed image into gel medium. The result is an elastic yet fragile sheet which reacts (expands/contracts) depending on the humidity of the environment.
Maps are not absolutes; though they may include real scientific data, but ultimately represent a particular world-view. My transfer technique serves to highlight the tension between the totality of the world as a coherent and complete structure – which the maps seek to represent – and the un-stable state of the medium through which it is communicated. Moreover, the fact that I have add-ed my own writing to the transferred maps adds another temporal dimension, blurring the time scale of the maps. My gel transferred maps of trade routes between Mexico and the Philippines may remind us that world-views are inherently transitional and change as history unfolds, from the past and present into the future.

My work on the myth of “La China Poblana” also deals with cultural constructs over time. This leg-end is based the historical figure called “Mirrha”. Her true origin is disputed – some say she was an Indian princess, some say she came from the “Mughal Kingdom of The Philippine Islands”. She was bought in Manila in the 17th century by the Portuguese captain Miguel de Sosa and shipped over to Puebla in Mexico to work as a servant to his wife. Mirrha converted to Catholicism, was baptised as Catarina de San Juan and led a life so devout that she was almost canonised as saint – which the Church objected to. After Sosa and his wife died, Catarina married Domingo Suárez, the Chinese servant of a local priest, adding to the legend that she was Chinese.
Catarina was widely admired for her generosity and exotic beauty. She stayed in the collective im-agination of the residents in Puebla who honoured her by wearing her dress style: typically a white blouse and colourful embroidered red and green shirt. In the early 20th century, her image eventu-ally morphed into the popular symbol of Mexican femininity as “La China Poblana”- (in the colonial era the word “china” was used to refer to anything or anyone that came from Asia).

For my exhibition “Retracing Roots / Routes”, I reinterpret the story of La China Poblana using my own selection of images: an image found on the internet of a Filipino mestiza in the 16th Century, an old portrait of my mom, and vintage image of a Mexican lady I found in one of Puebla’s flea markets). I also wrote a short text for each of the characters. By reenacting the myth I expand on an existing popular narrative and stereotype and try to hint at the constant evolution of cultural constructs. Including my mother gives the work a personal twist. My mother, just like me, is a mes-tiza (mixed race): we have Spanish, Malay and Chinese ancestors. Again, past, present and future possibilities are linked into a continuum.

You did a residency in Mexico and while there you worked with a local artist to do a mural. Tell us about that experience.

Yes, I did a one-month residency at Arquetopia in Puebla last year during which I did my research on the Mexico-Philippine subject. The mural was actually a side-line project, independent from the main residency. It happened through sheer coincidence. A local friend of mine took me on a mural tour in the neighbouring town of Cholula. I was so inspired by the tour that I had to approach the guide at the end of the session and thank him. Then I showed him some of my mural work and he immediately told me: You must make a mural whilst you’re here. I didn’t take his comment that se-rious, but truth to be told, the next day he sent me a poster of their mural project with my name on it and an image of the wall I was supposed to paint! The campaign was part of an official initiative by the city of Puebla to re-generate one of the oldest neighbourhoods of the city. When I checked out the wall in person I was shocked by the size of it, it was huge. The wall itself was around 300 years old and I loved the color and the worn surface where they paint would chip off. Given that I didn’t have much time left in Puebla I wasn’t sure whether I could commit to it. In the end I decided to go for it. My mural design was based on my research on the Philippine-Mexico connection. It was a great experience, I had lots of help from my new friends and we had so much fun together, especially on the scaffolding. It was an amazing opportunity and I’m very pleased that I was able to leave my mark in Puebla.
You can check out my mural on my website: http://www.gritzkadelvillar.com/murals/

You are a world traveler – how has this influenced the work you create? How has living in DC influenced you?

I’ve touched upon this in your question above. But yes, through travelling I’m exposed to many cultural influences. I love using different cultural references in my work. I’m always eager to discover how cultures are linked to one another throughout history.

I’ve really enjoyed exploring the art scene in D.C. and building a new creative network here. There are some amazing people, venues and opportunities. I feel really fortunate for having been able to show my work in quite a few locations. Living here has also reminded me of the four seasons! I’d moved here from Thailand – so although I’m half German, I had to get used to winters again, haha. It’s also been very educational to be able to observe social structures here.
In terms of my art: I’ve been collecting and using found objects to make new work, especially wine boxes and pieces of road turf. Some of these works are still in progress.

What’s next for you?

I have a few things cooking: a silent auction at the Mexican Cultural Institute in DC on Sept. 23rd, a group show at Viridian Artists Inc. Gallery in Chelsea, NYC, September 5th – 30th, and possible a group show at Strathmore Gallery, in Bethesda, MD – to be confirmed. I’ve also applied for an artist residency in London which would start next January if I get accepted. Fingers crossed!

The Visionary Potential of Science and Art: Q & A with Gloria Duan

Gloria is a Chinese-American artist currently based in Chicago, IL. Her practice falls within the poetics of science and philosophy, examining concepts of the un-guessed.

http://www.gloriafanduan.com/

Tell us how you make the large cyanotypes that are part of this exhibition? Do you consider them 2D pieces or do you think of them as more sculptural?

I first make a few cyanotype pallets to paint with. Each mixture contains varied amounts of potassium ferricyanide, ferric ammonium citrate, and water. This gives me a range of cyan and orange tones to work with. Next, I paint the cyanotype onto loosely draped silk under red light to minimize UV exposure. I wait for the cyanotype to dry, and then move the fabric outside onto a clear plastic sheet, quickly placing hand-blown glass objects, and contains with water, onto the fabric so as to create the second painted layer. I also wet some areas with water, and add more cyanotype to other parts. I wait for the fabric to expose depending on the weather conditions. Sometimes I expose under sunlight, and other times by moonlight. During the exposure, I move objects around and fold the fabric into different configurations. Afterwards, I remove the objects, rinse the cyanotype residues, and dry the silk. When the fabric is dry, I repeat this process to create more depth in certain areas. Because of this process, I consider these pieces paintings to be viewed from 360 degrees, and so, utilizes a Mobius strip form that considers both sides of the image as frontal. I view paintings as objects with a surface of illusion, and see them as inherently sculptural.

What other artists or individuals influenced your work and what aspects of their creations sparked inspiration and why?

This current work is in discourse with installation artists who create ephemeral and elemental works involving ideas of weightlessness, light, water, and space. Such artists include Tomas Saraceno, James Turrell, Olafur Eliasson, and Do Ho Suh. Unlike Turrell’s Skyspaces and Eliasson’s Fog Assembly however, being literal light and water installations, this project is an exploration of compiling marks made by these ephemeral bodies, especially water, light, and the many forms of waves. In this way, the works’ process is more similar to Thomas Ruff’s topographical photographs of windswept Mars, and the moody water textures of Sayre Gomez’s paintings.These works draw literary influences from novelist Haruki Murakami’s many metaphysical metaphors involving water and the psychic landscape, and the book of poetry about the color blue, Bluets by Maggie Nelson.

Your pieces and presentation involve a variety of materials that work together to create the piece. What brought you to each of these mediums and inspired you to combine them?

This project aims to semantically describe mutable and ephemeral subjects, phenomena, and materials, through their unguessed synchronicities. Topics include waves, water, wind, light, shadow, glass, pure energy, floating, suspension, and expansion. This cyanotype process indexes transparent materials such as water, hand-blown glass objects, and clear plastics in order to photograph the disembodied physicality of transparent materials, as an autonomous form within space, rather than a distortion that reflects its surroundings. The transparency of these mediums allows varying degrees of light to reach through each object and display its composition through an x-ray-esque projection. Through cyanotype, the incorporeal materiality of transparency is captured and becomes indexed within a photographic afterimage. Built from the catalytic effects of light and heat, the cyanotype process also parallels the chemical reactions and thermal energies that form each transparent medium. This exploration into transparent and translucent materials simultaneously solidifies the ephemeral, and presents solidity as fluid and disembodied. The suspension of the work in mid-air is to simulate the weightlessness of microgravity. Its Mobius shape questions the cyclic nature of physicality, and form in space. The hexagonal and octagonal mixed media paintings display recurring symbols, which reference the mediums and motifs used in the cyanotype, to narrate the visual poetics of an idea that can be seen to center around capturing an ephemeral body.

Your work combines art and science and this is reflected in your life having attended Thomas Jefferson School for Science and Technology as well as the Rhode Island school of design. At what point did your interests combine? How was/is your experience finding and conveying the relationship between science of art?

My practice and interests are still evolving. I’ve always been interested in the visionary potential of science and art, which for example, has been well established through science fiction. Specific to my practice, I am interested in challenging perception, through a scientific and artistic lens. I am interested in the unknown ways of seeing- multi-dimensionally, or beyond our visual spectrum and magnitude- and how these ideas challenge our focus of the human experience.

GRAPHITE AND SUBURBIA: Q&A WITH MATTHEW MCLAUGHLIN

What prompted you to use graphite for this series? Does this material and how it looks relate to the idea of suburbia you are trying to convey?

The choice to use graphite for the Scenes from Suburbia drawings had two parts. The first part was that I felt that out of all the different drawing materials that you can use, graphite was the most relatable to the suburban experience. We all have graphite pencils in our homes, whether for daily use or left over from when we were in school and they were required for tests and such. The second part was that I wanted to push my own drawing skills with pencil further. As I have taught drawing for a few years now, I felt I could push my own technical ability further and gain a deeper understanding of what you can accomplish with just a 2H and 2B pencil.

Did you realize the peculiarity in suburbia subtly throughout growing up in or did you discover it through creating your art pieces and analyzing the community?

I think I may have always been aware of it in the background, which is why my art has always dealt with the environment, both man-made and natural. But I don’t think I became truly aware of the peculiarities and quirks until I started taking regular walks and taking photographs about 4 years ago. I gave myself the challenge of taking a photo every quarter of a mile to generally become more observant of my surroundings and from that I started to recognize the components of the suburban experience.

You say that your work explores our relationship with both natural and man-made environments. Does your idea of suburbia correspond with either of those primarily or is it an interlocking idea?

My idea of suburbia is an interlocking idea of the two but not all suburban experiences feel that way. Greenbelt, MD is a strong example of the interlocking idea because the city and its residents have always been environmentally conscious. They try to alter as little of the landscape around when any construction happens and there are large sections of city property that are preserved as forest areas. While when I lived in Tempe, AZ, for graduate school, it was very much a suburbia of only man-made aspects. One of the oddest things about it was the green grass and oaks trees in peoples’ yards, even though they lived in the desert. So people were altering the very environment they lived in to fit what they expected/wanted.

What brought you to print making and inspired you to teach it? What elements of printmaking do you find separate it from other forms of art?

Printmaking stuck with me because of the process oriented approach to making work. I went to a high school that focused on Science and Technology, so the scientific method was heavily emphasized and when I went to art school I found printmaking to have a similar methodology that I could grasp, understand easily and really enjoy the experimentation of process.

Teaching was always a strong direction for me. Through high school, college and grad school, I taught classes to all different ages. Sometimes they were one off workshops, sometimes multi week or semester long classes, it was something I always enjoyed. So moving on to teach college as a lecturer just made sense, and I love the idea of bringing my knowledge to the next generation of artists, especially printmaking.

I think the main element of printmaking that separates it from other forms of art is the repeatable nature of editions and the option to make many, many copies of a work instead of just the one unique. Some might see this as a downside for investing in art, but I see it as an advantage for the artist. An artist who works in print can have multiple copies of a print go out into collections and let that many more people see it in person than a single painting or sculpture. There is also a tactile nature to printmaking that is unique because prints can be sculptural and yet flat at the same time. The ink sits on paper so differently than any other medium.

What music are you listening to right now?

Lately, I’ve been listening to a lot of mellower, more rhythmic EDM artists, like Bonobo, RJD2, Caravan Palace and Parov Stelar, plus the Guardian of the Galaxy soundtracks. It’s very nostalgic to when I used to listen to my dad’s favorite oldies radio station as a kid.

COMPLEX NARRATIVES AND CONTEMPORARY ISSUES: Q&A WITH CRAIG SUBLER

Your pieces revolve around the nature of museums, which you have a long personal history of working in. How has working in the museum world influenced your own work?

Museums are highly choreographed spaces. The art museum’s fractured discontinuity is a place where visitors have to navigate an artificially constructed world in which the narrative is interrupted from gallery to gallery.
I have always been interested in how Museums direct the viewer’s gaze. However, moving through museum galleries is itself a fragmented experience. My works has been profoundly shaped by visitor’s experiences. The drawings/paintings center on the disconnected narrative that results when one traverses the museum. I am interested in how this endless stream of images and objects of vastly different cultures is embraced by the viewer. The art historian Robert T. Soppelsa has noted that the my work “forces the viewer to interpret the images critically and to think about themselves and how they see and respond to specific objects and the ways those objects are displayed in museums.”  I am interested in this complex reflexivity and the conundrums that it creates for the viewer. My works is influenced by this complex accumulation of fragments and viewpoints found in a Museum. It is puzzling for the figures that inhabit my works while at the same time I seek to remind the viewer of their own museum encounter.

You were a professor at the University of Missouri, how do you compare life creating art through others versus creating it through yourself. Do you think teaching has altered how you create art? What are the main messages you wanted your students to take away?

Teaching and art making is a dialogue be it with a student or a wider public. Teaching has not altered my work but rather helped to inform it. As a faculty member in a university you have many students seeking to discover their own vision. As a faculty member it was my job to help them do just that so that their takeaway is a body of work that is well-argued and ground breaking. One is always shifting gears, so to speak, with every student as each presents you with different issues and ideas to be unraveled. The main message I wanted students to understand is that art making is problem solving, and there is no right or wrong answers just ones that are better and smarter then others.

How would you compare the artistic process in your pencil drawings versus your digital prints?

Whether drawing for a digital print or on a large sheet of paper, what is important to me is that the line remains fresh and expressive.
Drawing is always a starting point for my work. It represents that intimate moment between the material, the viewer and ultimately myself. The digital prints start out as drawings on paper. A series of separate drawings on paper are scanned and resized. Once digitized the drawings are then reassembled in the computer. Then using a pad and electronic pencil I work to do additional drawing to knit the image together. What I am interested in is how the digital line differs from the pencil on paper line. “Scale” and “touch” play an important role in the digital prints to make them appear to have been done effortlessly and without the assistance of a computer.

What sets the digital prints apart from their smaller drawings on velum is scale and orientation. The small drawings are meant to be intimate works that draw a single viewer into the image. The works embrace a single moment of contemplation by the viewed and the viewer. The digital prints are larger horizontal works with multiple figures that invite the viewer to read them as a narrative. A narrative, albeit truncated, is one that the viewers themselves must construct. These works present a complex accumulation of fragments and viewpoints. It is puzzling for the figures that inhabit these works, reminding us of our own museum encounters.

Each of your series revolves around very diverse themes, from terrorism to the environment to museums. Where do you find the inspiration for these themes?

The subject matter of my work may appear initially diverse but what links all these series is my interest in complex narratives around contemporary issues. Whether the themes are about Museum Encounters, inspired by Degas’ print, Mary Cassatt at the Louvre, or Suburban Terrorism, inspired by Durer prints, or Hiroshima, inspired by Goya’s, Disasters of War, the important thing for me is that I bring new and complex dialogues to my subject matter. With the Suburban Terrorist series there is an intended ambiguity in the works that engages the tension between natural habitats and the built environment. This ambiguity is equally true for the Hiroshima prints and drawings and for Museum Encounters. My intention is always to encourage the viewer to be active in the interpretation of the work.

GREATER SENSE OF INTER-CONNECTIVITY: MARYANNE POLLOCK

Artist, “Repression, Resurgence, Reemergence”

In your artist’s statement you mention that you went “to Donegal to retrieve something that was lost. Perhaps it was a pride that had been crushed by poverty and starvation”. What role has your art played in retrieving this “something”?

I found a rich artistic and oral history that was never shared with me since my grandparents schooling ended in the third grade while they were struggling to survive.  I found prehistoric ruins in that were on the same meridian with Morocco, and ancient castles from Medieval times, and manuscripts from the golden age of Irish history. These ties to an ancient past gave me a greater sense of inter-connectivity given my teenage interest in art of the middle east, particularly Samaria and Egypt. Islamic art has its roots in Celtic art, a fact that i had intuited during that trip.

I think that each of my paintings are a type of archaeological dig into the ancient past, a collective unconscious where all of humanity comes together.

Since I lived in Egypt for six years and also traveled to Spain recently, finding that interconnected-ness of common histories, centered in southern Spain in the ninth century has helped validate my intuition in a search for more ancient and international identity.

How and to what extent does your dual nationality influence your artistic process?

I just received my Irish passport so as of yet the dual nationality is more of a cultural experience. However, I begin each painting with decisions that derive from  a kind of passion and emotionalism inherited from my maternal Irish grandparents. The geometric structures that develop are often based on a narrative of living in cities in the US. They play between the lyrical, and the organic and the architectonic.