tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:/posts OtherPeoplesPixels Blog 2019-12-04T17:26:17Z OPP tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1485475 2019-12-04T17:13:09Z 2019-12-04T17:26:17Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Michael Zachary

Cover Version, Frederick Church's "Above The Clouds", 2019. CMYK ink markers on paper. 15 x 22 inches.

For MICHAEL ZACHARY, drawing is analogous to the JPEG, a now-dominant mode of image compression and consumption. His meticulously rendered landscapes are composed of interconnecting CMYK lines that refer to etching, engraving and commercial printing. By visually revealing the mechanics of his drawing process, he points to the "false dichotomy between the way we romanticize nature and intellectualize technology." After all, vision itself is a lossy process. Michael received his MFA from Massachusetts College of Art and Design and is a recipient of support from The Berkshire-Taconic Foundation’s Artist Resource Trust, The Massachusetts Cultural Council, Boston University’s Blanche Coleman Trust and the Surdna Foundation. His most recent solo exhibition was Mistranslations of Nature and Mistranslations of Mistranslations of Nature (2019) at The Magenta Suite (Exeter, NH). His work is available for purchase through Room 68  (Provincetown, MA), and his self-published catalog will be available on his website in December 2019. He has been an ongoing contributor to Big Red & Shiny: Boston’s Online Art Journal since 2011. Michael lives and works in Boston.

OtherPeoplesPixels: Tell us about your artistic background. Has drawing always been your chosen medium?

Michael Zachary: Like a lot of artists, I started out painting. But I just didn’t like the way most people look at paintings. I like to go to museums and watch other people watching works of art. You can actually learn quite a lot from watching how they see. I started to get the feeling that lots of people don’t even really look at paintings at all. It’s like they just think “OK, this is a painting and I know how I am supposed to react to it so I’ll go through the approved motions” and the experience of actively looking and discovering things in the work just kind of stops before it even gets going. There is an authority to painting they just can’t get past. So, part of my motivation wasn’t to start making drawings per se but to make some hybrid things that existed between the established categories and short-circuited people’s attempts to define them. I was hoping that when people saw my pictures, they would have to ask themselves “What is it? Is it tactile or digital? A drawing or painting? Handmade or mechanical?” and that the work would elude all of these easy definitions and force them to do a bit of thinking and a bit of looking and come to their own conclusions. That was my initial impulse. It was only later that I started to realize how well those instincts mapped onto some of the other seemingly unrelated questions I had been thinking about.

Waves Study, 2019. CMYK ink markers on paper. 15 x 22 inches.

OPP: What kind of questions? I’ve heard you refer to drawing as “an emerging and experimental technology”…

MZ: I think a lot about how drawing relates to our dominant mode of image creation and consumption, which is the JPEG. And I think most of us definitely haven’t thought deeply enough about how digital tools change the way we see. We should be thinking about levels of compression and resolution because levels of compression and resolution create a subtle but pervasive hierarchy of information. They separate what we see into the qualities the jpeg algorithms can record and those they can’t. But the problem is that all that happens effortlessly and invisibly at the level of the code, so we just sort of accept the fact that the jpegs on our screens are reasonable facsimiles of reality. But they aren’t! And that is where the parallels between drawing and coding become really interesting to me.

The problem with code is how static it is. The algorithms are always the same; all jpegs contain the same kind of information. The surface is always the same and the structure is always hidden so they just feel interchangeable and disposable to me. And drawing feels like it does exactly the opposite thing. The great thing about drawing is that it can be algorithmic like code, but you can also change the rules whenever we want, so you can pick and choose what information is most important at any given point in the drawing. And that makes drawing a more flexible and adaptive technology than the jpeg. It’s slower, but it is always adapting itself to the moment and increases our agency rather than limiting it.

Detail

OPP: Limit is a good word. Can you talk about the self-imposed limitations of your practice and how they serve your conceptual interests?

MZ: Honesty and transparency are really important to me. I’ve never liked work that is too arcane or hermeneutic because they seem like huckster’s tricks that build up myths around artists, making us seem more mysterious and powerful than we really are. If you view drawing as rule-based and algorithmic—which I do—then why keep the rules a secret? That is an unfair way to play a game and disrespectful to your play partners in the audience. No fun for them at all. So, I set as one of my basic rules that I would limit my mark making to only the most basic and affectless marks. Nothing up my sleeve. I want any poetry and excitement I manage to put in my drawings to come from someone being able to follow my decisions and my thought process as directly and effortlessly as possible. Anyone should be able to do what I do. No special tricks required. 

And of course, I also limit my level of resolution in these drawings as well. I could draw with a much smaller aperture between the lines and make drawings that would be much higher in “resolution.” But I don’t want to give you everything. Not because I enjoy playing coy, but because seeing by eye is a “lossy” process just like the jpeg algorithm is. And I’d rather be honest about that. I want to record the signal where I can record it in a phenomenologically accurate way, but I also want you to know where the gaps are. I don’t want to fill them up with noise to cover my tracks.

Tangle 1, 2018. CMYK ink markers on paper. 20 x 17 inches.

OPP: What are the sources for your landscape drawings?

MZ: They all start with direct observation of real places. From there, it’s a bit of a process of deconstruction and distillation. I take a lot of source photos and then I use every trick in the book to play around with one simple idea: How much can I take away without changing the fundamental experience of this place? What information should be conserved through the act of drawing and what should be eliminated? The really interesting thing is that these questions don’t really change if we shift our frame of reference from our optic nerve and visual cortex to digital algorithms or to a drawing. Biological and technological systems seem to follow the same basic rules to answer the same basic question: What part of this is the signal and what part is noise? 

Cover Version, Martin Johnson Heade's "Orchids and Hummingbird", 2019. CMYK ink markers on paper. 14.5 x 23 inches.

OPP: That logic could be applied to any place, or even an object. But you very intentionally choose landscapes as your imagery. Why?

MZ: Landscape is the perfect vehicle because we have this false dichotomy between the way we romanticize nature and intellectualize technology. We think of nature and of seeing by eye as objectively “real” rather than socially and biologically constructed, and we think of technology as somehow fake. It just doesn’t hold up to real scrutiny. As soon as you start superimposing digital ideas over drawing ideas over the way biology works and all those distinctions between artificial and natural, mechanical and organic start to collapse. When that happens,  then we can start to ask the right questions and see where they lead. In my mind, those are the questions about resolution and projection, about what we aren’t seeing and what we are actually constructing in our heads and then projecting onto the landscape.

Horizon Line, Glasgow, 2017. CMYK ink markers, conte crayons, and graphite on paper. 18.5 x 16.5 inches.

OPP: While looking at your work, I’m thinking about the relationship between pointillism—and the Impressionists as precursor to your work—and pixelation. The CMYK pens and pencils clearly reference to both digital color printing and screenprinting. Why lines instead of dots?

MZ: As I said, I don’t see much distinction between digital algorithms and pointillism or the history of etching and engraving that these drawings also echo. To me they are all different technological answers to the basic questions about how we see. There is a great story John Cage tells where he talks about a teacher who kept demanding he find additional new solutions to a particularly challenging problem he had already solved. Finally, he arrived at a point when he had to admit there were no more solutions, to which his teacher replied, “What is the principle behind all of the solutions?” which is of course the most important question to ask. I hope by combining all these solutions at once in my drawings that I can ask a similar question.

As to the lines vs. dots issue, lines do something very important to me that dots don’t do: they thwart edge detection almost like camouflage. Using lines at the scale that I do, every mark is interwoven and completely contingent on every other mark. You can’t really isolate a single line or group of lines in the same way you can a dot or a group of dots, and that has important implications for how you navigate one of these drawings. I like the idea that at a basic level these drawings are all one interconnected field of information and that any borders or divisions you see are a result of what you bring to the drawing and not something I’m imposing on it. There is something about keeping things open and understanding that everything is part of everything else that cuts right to the heart of what I think seeing is. The parts are only ever understood in relation to the whole, never in isolation! I think that the imposition of borders and categories onto the landscape is a pretty powerful authority to have, and I don’t want it. I want you to have it and I want it to happen in your head, for you to have to construct those aspects of the experience for yourself. I really don’t believe in the idea of the artist as an authority, our exchange feels way better to me when the viewer is a co-equal partner and we both bring something to the image.

 Installing Sky Field, 2018. CMYK colored pencils and graphite on wall. 4 x 5 feet.

OPP: How is creating the wall drawings a different experience than making the drawings?

MZ: First of all, they are site contingent. They make me think very strategically about focal depths and levels of resolution, and how those things can change the way people move through a given space. And second, they are usually a collaboration with whatever community stakeholders invite me into their space. The haptic experience of drawing the lines over and over evokes thought processes that make them consider a lot of the questions we’ve been talking about in a very personal and felt way. After they draw with me, many people really understand these questions more viscerally than when they just look at the drawings.

I really love sharing that experience with people and seeing how it changes their perceptions. So, in many ways the wall drawings are the full realization of some of the ideas I’ve been working through in the drawings for years because of how they become heightened when they are shared. I hope to be doing many more of these collaborations in the future!

To see more of Michael's work, please visit drawsoftly.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006. Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan, 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis, 2017), Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018) and Kent State Stark (North Canton, 2019). Her work was recently included in the three-person show Manifestations at One After 909 (Chicago).

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1480084 2019-11-20T16:26:24Z 2019-11-20T16:26:24Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Sonya Blesofsky

Acanthus Lintel: Ridgewood, 2019. Scraped paint.

SONYA BLESOFSKY's ephemeral installations and sculptures deal with decay, development and gentrification. She uses these issues as metaphors for loss, transition and memory. Her works depend—physically and historically—on their sites. Some consist of recreated elements of the built environment—both ornamental and functional—out of butcher paper, velum, cardboard and aluminum foil, while others are cuts directly into the gallery walls that reveal the hidden history of the building. Sonya earned her BFA in Community Studies/Studio Art at University of California Santa Cruz and her MFA in Painting at San Francisco Art Institute. Her solo projects are numerous, including shows in San Francisco, New York, Miami, and Knoxville. Most recently she created Window Study: St. Göran’s Gymnasium, Arkitekturens Grannar in Stockholm, Sweden. In 2019, she is a NYSCA/NYFA Fellowship Recipient in Architecture/Environmental Structures/Design. Sonya lives and works in Brooklyn.

OtherPeoplesPixels: You got your MFA in Painting in 2005, but you now work exclusively in sculpture and site-specific installation. What were your paintings like?

Sonya Blesofsky: My paintings dealt with some of the same anxieties and fears that my current installations address, and they represented the same issues of fragility and loss, only the power dynamic in the work was the opposite of the kinds of pieces I make now. The paintings were always received as having been made by a man. They were very large images of almost monstrous semi trucks painted on shiny metal.  I think they had qualities viewers equated with masculinity: strength, power, overt forcefulness, monstrousness that both attracted and repelled. (As an aside, I don’t like to characterize “masculinity,” but am conjecturing about what led people to assume the work was made by a man.)

Study for Gair Boiler, 2009. Butcher paper.

OPP: What led you to shift into 3D work?

SB: A pivotal piece that catalyzed the transition from 2D to 3D work was a small sculpture of a semi truck made of aluminum foil. Instead of asserting fear and power, this small piece turned the power dynamic on its head. It showed the viewer that they would need to exercise restraint to refrain from crushing the piece—which would have been very easy to do. Next up, I made a freeway overpass in cardboard, and that began my move into working with fragile materials. I created sculptural work in paper for the next ten years. Working in a 3D mode was a way to confront issues of power, fragility and my anxiety about everything in life being temporary in a more real and tangible way.

Gate and Razorwire, 2009. Vellum.

OPP:  You’ve mentioned fragility and impermanence. Can you talk specifically about how the materials you choose convey these concerns in works like Detour Ahead (2012), Study for TriBeCa Fire Escape (2007) and your 2011 show Tenement at Mixed Greens?

SB: I have always been concerned with loss—personal losses, community loss, and even the change and disappearance of inanimate things. I moved to NYC in 2005, which was the year the entire Brooklyn waterfront was rezoned, paving the way for over a decade of intensive change in the city. Working with paper, which is ubiquitous, temporary, and fragile, was a way to create a metaphor with my materials and speak to the fact that everything around us in the city is changing, will continue to change, and loss is an inherent part of living life.

I have a particular love for paper, and moreover, I’m happiest when making materials do what they’re not supposed to. Working with paper, foil and tape in a sculptural way was satisfying not only to my material sensibilities, but to my desire for a challenge, as it was always a great feat to get tape or paper to “stand” and form in three dimensions. There was always a lot of trial and error and learning as I went. On top of serving to push the metaphor, I am haunted by images of destruction—images of September 11th, for example—where metal structural columns are twisted and bent and look like they were made of aluminum foil.  

Façade, 2011. Installation view.

OPP: Can you talk about the visibility of support structures for freestanding objects in installations like Study in Proportions (2016), Afterimage (2017) and Sneaking into the Monument Lot from the Building on the Right (2019)?

SB: I am interested in underbuilt structures and makeshift architecture. I am not an engineer, nor architect, and the work is often about my vision for a structure to hold itself up with very little knowledge or planning on how to do so.  I tend to have a basic idea of how a structure will hold, but building structures on site is filled with unknown issues, and I end up creating a set of problems for myself that I have to be incredibly creative to get myself out of. So: ultimately I do know a bit about makeshift building.

I want to bring transparency to the fact that my structures are built on-site and with little planning, so I usually leave the process of making the work visible. As for holding up sculptural pieces with structures: in my latest work, I take a found architectural element and imagine where or how it might have been located in a domestic or utilitarian space. I look at clues in the found/scavenged elements and use those clues to tell me how the item might have been placed or used. For example, I look at notches and joinery in a structural beam to imagine how it might attach to a column, or how it might get angled in relation to other elements in a structure. 

Sneaking into the Monument Lot from the Building on the Right, 2019. Installation view.

OPP: In many recent installations, you cut into the walls of gallery spaces to reveal the bones of the buildings. Can you talk about the logistics of this kind of work?

SB: Cutting into walls is one of my most favorite parts of making the work. There is always something unknown, (will these studs be wood or metal?  Is there insulation back there?  Is there stucco over the brick? Where is the former window aperture behind here?) and often a small element of surprise. (I once based a good portion of an installation on a drawing—probably made by the contractor—I found behind a wall, along with a snap chalk line leveling the space.) I have learned that the craft of cutting is something important to me, and I take pains to make sure each cut doesn’t look like a crude cut made by an electrician to get to the conduit.  I carefully make cuts with a utility knife so that the cut is made with precision and care.  A hand saw will do almost the same precise cut, but the cleanest is with a utility knife, which takes time, strength and stamina.

Study for Bushwick Renewal: Voids, 2016. Existing studs and sheetrock, material removed.

OPP: Is it difficult to get exhibition spaces to allow you to make these modifications to their spaces?

SB: Every art space and gallery is different. I have been invited specifically to cut into a gallery’s walls, however, typically, it makes most art spaces, institutions and dealers a little uncomfortable when I start talking about cutting into their walls. Typically, I get asked to participate in an exhibition, and the organization/gallery asks for a proposal. I send them a proposal, and then I meet with them. Most galleries end up getting right on-board with my idea. With the others, I look them right in the eye and say, “I know this idea makes you uncomfortable, but I am going to ask that you consider my proposal very seriously.” I have become a fairly good plasterer, so I am capable of putting the walls back to their prior state.

Window Study: East 3rd Street Reveal I and II, 2017.

OPP: Why do you think it makes them so uncomfortable?

SB: My work has always involved acts of destruction in the process of creation, but walls are much more touchy for people. Walls are thought of as permanent—they’re actually not—and people are precious about their spaces.  Which I totally understand. My work is about asking the viewer/participant to confront their sense of preciousness, their attachment to things, whether those things be the walls of the space, or my artwork, which will eventually be destroyed when the exhibition comes down.  

Arson Study: Johnson Landmark Building, 2014 . Ebonized and burnt wood, powdered charcoal.

OPP: Architectural decay and failure serves both representational and metaphorical functions in your work. How so?

SB: I am interested in decay and failure related to architecture in seen and unseen ways. The sudden collapse of a building or a decaying historic structure are as important in my work as neighborhood rezoning and gentrification. These processes are brought on by myriad seemingly invisible forces that enable an historic building or ailing bridge to reach that state of disrepair in the first place. The causes are associated with our country’s hyper capitalist priorities. So, I am interested in historic preservation, but also in connecting the forces that drive urban development with the current social and economic issues that are their outcome.

I use issues of preservation, urban change, and destruction of historic structures as metaphors to discuss change and loss that are more personal to me. I have forever been fighting against a certain predisposition for sentimentality, and my experiences of transition and loss are some of the most profound I have gone through.  I use things like the loss of a structure as a metaphor to speak to the ways we regard the old and sick, as well as a way to speak to my own resistance to change.

To see more of Sonya's work, please visit sonyablesofsky.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006. Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan, 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis, 2017), Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018) and Kent State Stark (North Canton, 2019). Her work was recently included in the three-person show Manifestations at One After 909 (Chicago).

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1474438 2019-11-06T12:54:34Z 2019-11-06T21:19:45Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews José Santiago Pérez

In[t][f]eriorities, 2019. sculpture (basketry)

JOSÉ SANTIAGO PÉREZ combines coiling, one of the oldest human technologies, with the brand-spanking-newness of plastics, a material that will likely outlast human life on the planet. He thinks metaphorically about the relationship between the passive core and active element, while his color palate of pastels and neons evokes the "remembered colorscape of L.A. in the 80s and 90s." José holds an MA from San Francisco State University and a BA from University of California, Santa Cruz. He earned his MFA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. His work has been exhibited in group shows in San Francisco, Chicago, Philadelphia and Boston. His solo shows include Flirting with Infinitudes (2018) at Wedge Projects and Passsivities (2019) at Ignition Project Space, and he has curated two exhibitions at the Leather Archive & Museum (all Chicago). In 2020, he will present solo shows at Pique Gallery (Cincinnati) and Roman Susan (Chicago). José lives and works in Chicago.

OtherPeoplesPixels: In your statement, you say you work “between the language and methodologies of craft, sculpture and performance.” I’d like to hear more about what distinguishes those methodologies? What do you use from each discipline?

José Santiago Pérez: These methodologies are valuable for how they inform and reform my approach to the body, its encounter with materials, and its experience of time. The hows of the encounter and how those hows do and possibly mean. I understand craft, sculpture and performance as ways of orienting the body towards and away from certain points of reference, personal and shared histories, objects or scenarios, etc. The combination of these orienting approaches makes a unique headspace possible for me as an artist. Together they shape relation and duration. They offer phenomenological ways of approaching an encounter and the possibility of relating to heres, nows, thens, theres, whats, whos, others. . . lo ce sea. How to approach. How to encounter. 

(Mint) Bights with Ornamental Edges,2018. Wall Hanging.

OPP: How do you relate to the languages of these disciplines?

JSP: I’m really interested in the mis/use of disciplinary language in my work. The ways disciplinary language makes and unmakes a knowing and known personhood. What one specialized discourse does—and how it does it—in a field where it doesn’t belong. The disciplinary attachments and entrenchments this trespassing and transposition might bring up for those of us that may be attached to disciplined entrenchments or trained to adhere to disciplined attachments.

This curiosity is partly rooted in trying to understand my experience of social life growing up in Los Angeles in the 80s and 90s as a non-belonger. I was marked brown in a white-oriented world, marked poor among privileged others, marked feminine in repressive masculine social spaces. A disorientation comes from being unable to enact the social scripts that organize relating, that make relating recognizable as relating correctly.

Today, i’m not as interested in laminating these circumstances or being attached to the difficult feelings around these circumstances. With the passage of time, I’ve become much more interested in the reparative joy and exuberant possibilities that may come from the mis/use of disciplinary languages. From one language trespassing into a field it does not belong. From the discursive formations that emerge from navigating a disciplinary space speaking a language foreign to it. What happens when craft-based processes are wrapped in the embodied, time-based language of performance, when a dramaturgy of sculpture is explored, when performance makes sculpture. . . algo así. . . ?

Re/Turn (Pipe), 2018. sculpture. variable

OPP: How do you think about color in general?

JSP: Growing up, our father used to work as a color mixer in a factory out in City of Industry. He mixed commercial color eight hours a day. Every day. For over twenty years. I grew up associating color with working class immigrant labor, with industry, work boots, sore bodies, sour dispositions and a bit of resignation. So i went monochrome for a few decades, to distance myself from that color story. . . and from being ‘de color’ laboring in color. A symptom of first-generation Salvadoran-American angst and internalized racism, I suppose. But. . . color is at the core of my family’s experience. It’s at my core. i’ve embraced and come to love and respect and understand it a little more. It’s taken time.  

In[t][f]eriorities (detail), 2019. sculpture (basketry). Photo Credit: Karolis Usonis

OPP: What about your palate of pastels and neons, specifically?

JSP: My recent palate—pink, tangerine, baby blue, mint, and lavender—condenses the remembered colorscape of L.A. in the 80s and 90s. Sometimes i get homesick and need color therapy. It immediately brings to mind summer days spent on the cross-town bus to and from Santa Monica Beach; the fumy atmosphere around neon plastic, utilitarian commodities, like a neon pink fly swatter or a mint laundry hamper, in densely packed the swap meets; the tangerine colored Spanish revival house in East LA that blasted ranchera music on Sunday afternoons. Neon squiggles and minty palm tree motifs. The palate is cheap, kitschy, nostalgic, unnatural and a bit unsophisticated. It pairs nicely with my plastic materials, which are often accused of having the same qualities.

I also use this color palette to encode the work in other personal narratives that i choose to withhold from the viewer. Like the hanky code, the use of color in my work signals different kinds of combined and condensed relations, archetypes, orientations and fixations. Their meaning is legible to those in the know. In my work, the encoded content isn’t limited to forms of sexual relating. I explore a wide range of pleasures and pains that come from relating, of being in specific arrangements of relating, of being in relation. . . entwined in relation. Color, for me, is where the relational magic and medicine is housed in my work. And in following Long Valley Cache Creek Pomo basket weaving Mabel McKay (1907-1993). . . the magic and medicine is the content that is not talked about.

And it helps that these pastels and neons look really cute together! 

Re/Coil (lavendar), 2018. sculpture (basketry). 7"d x 6"h

OPP: Coiled basketry is ubiquitous and unnoticed in contemporary life. I see it all the time, but most people haven’t thought deeply about the process.

JSP: Like textiles, coiled forms have been with us for thousands of years. Coiled baskets—as well as plated and twined baskets—have always been contemporary and have been companion-objects in domestic, social, agricultural, commercial, and spiritual life. They are helper objects. They extend the capacities of the body, the cupping of hands. They hold. They store. They keep. Cary. Gather. Collect. Process. In a sense, baskets have held human experience in their curved interiors. They’ve also been beautiful companions, and have been intentionally designed, patterned and embellished for aesthetic reasons. In some instances, the aesthetic, functional and spiritual are all woven into a basket and are intimately wrapped up together. Living, to quote Vietnamese filmmaker Trin T Minh-ha, is round.

And yet, the ubiquity of baskets, as you point out, renders them invisible. Disposable. Replaceable. Utilitarian. Ordinary. I mean, how often does our gaze linger on and wonder at a basket of chips at a taqueria? I’ve found that there is a tendency for basketry to be devalued and dismissed in the hierarchy of craft as contemporary art. Is it too crafty? Too caught up in an economy of the anthropological and ethnographic? Caught in a prison of function? Baskets exceed some boundaries, but don’t measure up in other ways. In short, basketry seems to be positioned as the lesser of the craft practices; a lesser of anything is always the condition for the elevation of another anything. That contingency of value interests me. It is a situatedness I am familiar with porque lo he vivido. Porque lo hemos vivido. By making plastic baskets, i foreground that economy of value.

Basket weavers, too, have historically been unnamed and unmarked, rendered unremarkable anonymities, like in many craft traditions. There are notable exceptions: Mabel McKay’s exquisite coiled baskets with innovations in beading and feather embellishment, Ed Rossbach’s plaited polyethylene baskets from the 1970s, John McQueen’s figurative and text-based baskets, and McArthur Genius Mary Jackson, who’s been coiling sweetgrass in the Lowcountry tradition for decades. But for the most part, basket weavers tend to go unnoticed in many instances. 

Yesterday's Treasures, 2019. sculpture (basketry)

OPP: Let’s talk about the process of coiling. How is it a metaphor for human experience? Tell us about the relationship between the “passive core and the active element”?

JSP: The choreography of coiling involves the wrapping of a pliable and linear material around another fairly pliable linear material. Wrapping is a process i love because it brings my attention to the body and the cycle of breathing. . . the circulation of air. An air current that is drawn in and a line that exhaled outward. The outside becomes the inside, then turns inside out. Regardless of the materials used to coil, the process of coiling remains pretty constant: wrap, guide the work into a circular or ovoid shape and stitch the current coiled material to the preceding coil. I tend to use a figure 8 stitch. Coiling is always re/turning and repeating infinitely.

Wrapping and coiling, for me, also materialize the rhythm and interval between arrival and departure. This process enacts the conditions that make desire possible. Desire being the drive to re/turn the distance between the other that desires and the other that is desired. The interval between loss and return being desire. For me, wrapping and coiling touch and handle the promise of return, the satisfaction of desire. And also the frustrations and anxieties of unresolved desire.

When i first started reading about coiled basketry, i kept running into variations of the term “passive” and “active” to differentiate the two material components necessary to create a coiled form. At the time i was working in a sex museum and my workdays slid across the spectrum of sub/dom, bottom/top, etc. I immediately started thinking of the passive core and active element of coiled basketry in proximity to the terms of ‘passivo’ and ‘activo’, the passive/active positionalities in sex play. I’m really interested in wrapping that spectrum of positions and erotics around the language of basketry and am understanding coiled baskets as forms that are both orifices and protrusions of varying degrees, that are not necessarily anatomical, but evoke a kind of repetition of offering and receiving. Touching and being touched. Holding and being held. Objects materializing the encounter of touch, contact, and intimacy.

One of the things i explore in my work with traditional and abstracted baskets is the ways in which those two foundational elements—a passive core and an active element—are co-constituting. One makes the other possible and vice versa. Coiled form is only possible through the repetitive relation of passivity and activity. In some of my baskets, plastic sheeting is used as a passive core and colored plastic lacing is used as the active element. In the new series of abstract baskets i’m working on for my upcoming show at Roman Susan, those positions are inverted. They’re a bunch of lovely little inverts!

Testimonio, 07, 2019. coiled emergency blankets and plastic lacing.

OPP: You’ve recently begun working with emergency blankets as a coiling core. Talk to us about this material and why you choose it.

JSP: Oof. . . when the first images of immigrant children in Texan detention facilities began circulating last year, i was really shaken to the core by what was happening. I kept thinking about all my family members, neighbors, friends and lovers, who have crossed the Mexico-U.S. border in search of protection, opportunity, a chance to secure the possibilities for a sustainable life, a sense of sovereignty. If it weren’t for the fact that they came to the U.S. prior to these current immigration policies, they may have wound up in densely packed cages, separated from their kin. . . where the home and shelter of a trusted adult’s embrace is replaced with a metallic, crinkly and almost weightless rectangle of alien material. Alien material….

Eventually, media coverage cycles through and attention shifts focus. There is so much scandal and corruption to attend to with the current Administration that the detention crisis at the border becomes one of a continuous stream of unprecedented perversions of the fantasy of U.S. democracy. Like the ubiquity of baskets, the continued kidnapping of children and holding them as political hostages runs the risk of becoming invisible. Performance theorist Diana Taylor coined the term “percepticide” to describe the psychic impact of the Dirty War in Argentina on the general public. The horrors enacted by the military dictatorship eventually reached a saturation point, and the kidnappings and disappearances enacted on the streets of Buenos Aires in broad daylight were no longer registered by the general public. . .  a kind of willful self-blinding.

I choose to work with the thin plastic sheeting treated with aluminum vapor we know as emergency blankets because its material properties record every fold, twist and gather. They become imprinted into its substance. Emergency blankets remember and record their interaction with the body. Recall those images of detention centers littered with crumbled silvery sheets. I’m employing it as a core for abstract coiled baskets because it materializes the condition of detained immigrants right now. At the core, i am an immigrant. And if we think far back enough. . . we’ll remember that the majority of us are held in that categorical basket, too.

Aytú, 2019. wall hanging

OPP: Aytú, Aynotú and Aysitú all collapse the rectangle and the grid and embrace the floppiness of plastics. This brings to mind the way the early American Fiber Artists embraced the material qualities of their work for formal innovation, but tried to sidestep the cultural meanings. But I think you are interested in both the materiality and the connotations of the materials. Can you talk about the connotations of plastic in general and of the specific plastics you choose?

JSP: Totally! Fiber artists like Arturo Sandoval were weaving and plaiting polymer-based materials like celluloid and mylar into wall hangings in the 60s and 70s, and Ed Rossbach made a plaited series of polyethylene baskets in the 70. And like you point out, formal concerns were foregrounded more than the cultural content of the materials themselves. I’m down with both.

A lot of what keeps me engaged with plastics is the semantic baggage they carry. In AytúAynotú, and Aysitú, I’m particularly interested in the floppy, droopy and limp-wristedness of the black plastic grid used as a substrate (sub/straight!) for piled plastic. Plastic has memory, is infinitely shape-shifty and malleable. It’s quite passive at it’s core, subject to endless repetitions of the limp-wristed gesture evoked in the titles.

More generally, the language clinging to plastics since their development has been that of the supplement, of surrogacy, of the copy, of the not-quite, of utility. Plastics are the Other of nature. They exist in relation to massification, cheapness, consumption and disposability. Plastics are throw-aways. Plastics have meaning in relation to the cultural imaginary of value and class. I see a connection between the way plastics are often overlooked and devalued and the way certain kinds of bodies are mishandled and devalued. Some people are treated as disposable and worthless. I remember overhearing an adult conversation as a child. . . someone described the way they were treated by a bank teller as “así: como un plástico tirado en la calle.” She was treated like a piece of discarded plastic on the street because she was a working class immigrant woman with dark and presumed-indigenous features trying to cash per paycheck. That testimonio has clung to me.

I’m also interested in plastics as the materialization of time. Up until the mid 20th century, plastics were hailed for their longevity. Plastic was durable and promised to endure. And it does, in the sense that plastics will outlive us. But I’m also struck by the fact that the substance from which plastics are made—petroleum—is the fossilization of life that predates human existence. I’m filled with wonder and repulsion when i handle plastic. I’m touching prehistoric life. . . and one day, my body will become petroleum, perhaps. I’m interested in the fact that this processed material exceeds a human time scale. It re/places me, in a sense. Roland Barthe thought of plastic as the material trace of transformation. Material change unfolds in its own duration. Plastic is a matter of time.

With/Held (Aproxymate), 2017. Photo documentation of performance based sculpture.

OPP: With/Held (Aproxymate) (2017) is a “performance based sculpture.” Can you describe the performance?

JSP: The body is silent and motionless on the gallery floor under a 50’x12’ sheet of milky polyethylene. Two lengths of cotton clothesline, arm-knitted synthetic fabric strips of brown and sky blue, handmade rope of hunter green fabric, and a length of mauve fabric are installed throughout the space.

There is an extended stillness.

Slowly, after the plastic sheet has settled over the body and the temperature under the sheet has shifted, when condensation begins to form where breath meets polymer, the body begins to move and activate the plastic.

The slow and rhythmic movement of body and material continues for a duration until forms and volumes are discovered.

The process of relating motion and discovery continues.

At some point, the body comes into contact with rope and begins to use it to bind the plastic.

Contact with other materials occurs and they are enveloped and enfolded into the discovered relating. 

Movement, re/shaping, and binding continue for an extended duration until all the materials in the space are incorporated together into a singular form.

There are two desecrate forms on the gallery floor.

There is an extended embrace.

They’ve touched.

They’ve transformed.

A separation. 


To see more of José's work, please visit www.josesantiagoperez.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006. Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan, 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis, 2017), Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018) and Kent State Stark (North Canton, 2019). Her work was recently included in the three-person show Manifestations at One After 909 (Chicago).

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1469243 2019-10-23T12:52:04Z 2019-10-23T20:02:03Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Leah Bailis

Untitled Mask, Leah Bowery Mask, Untitled Mask, all 2017. 11" x 8" each.

LEAH BAILIS' work creates meaning through an intersection of materiality, humor and textual reference. She alludes to fictional characters and famous creatives in sculptures and fiber-based works that explore the human impulse to adorn oneself. Masks, embellished clothing, accessories and wigs, all of which can transform and empower the wearer. Leah earned her BFA in Film at Bard College in 1998 and her MFA in Studio Art at University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill in 2005. She has exhibited at MASS Gallery (2013), Delaware Center for the Contemporary Arts (2012), Hopkins Hall Gallery, Ohio State University (2010), Lump Gallery (2010) and the Philadelphia International Airport (2008), to name a few. Her numerous solo shows at Vox Populi Gallery (Philadelphia) include Hold Me (2012), Magical Thinking (2010) and Demo (2009). Her focus of late hasn't been exhibiting work. Her two daughters, born 2016 and 2018, are her recent successes. Leah lives and works in the Philadelphia area.

OtherPeoplesPixels: Let’s talk first about the recurring subject of the house/home in your early work made with cardboard. How did your favored material relate to the content of these sculptures?

Leah Bailis: When I first started making the houses I was using photos of houses in North Carolina—where I was living at the time—as my source and wood as my material. I liked the warmth of the wood against the cool white exteriors and the tension that created. I started using cardboard for a few reasons.  It felt like a good way to show the disposable nature of the new construction I was starting to reference. It helped convey a certain fragility. . . that the walls that I built could be easily torn down, that an imposing presence was actually the thinnest of facades. The chainlink fence cage I made could have easily been torn apart. I also thought it was funny, in a pretty formal way, that something so heavy could been made of something so light.

Fence (detail), 2007. Cardboard, paint. 39" x 36" x 30"

OPP: You’ve used your links page to offer us clips for the cinematic references in many of your works from around 2010-2013. I’m thinking of works like The Resurrection of Inger (From Carl Theodor Dreyer's Ordet)Self Portrait as Dirk Bogarde as Gustav von Aschenbach (From Luchino Visconti's Death in Venice) and BEFORE WE LEFT (BADLANDS).

LB: I added these links to film clips because they were specific sources of inspiration for pieces I have made. I studied and made film in undergraduate school. When I finished school I left with a strong love for the medium as a viewer and an understanding that I wasn't cut out to make films of my own. There are certain cinematic moments that have stuck with me over many years and I decided to try to visually interpret my experience of watching these scenes. I titled all of the pieces to clearly connect them to the moments I was describing. I didn't want to be obscure. I also wanted to lead the viewer to the films that are so important to me. 

Self Portrait as Dirk Bogarde as Gustav von Aschenbach (From Luchino Visconti's Death in Venice), 2010. Digital prints. Each 16 3/4" x 12 1/2"

OPP: What gets you about these films in particular?

LB: The resurrection scene in Dreyer's Ordet made me weep audibly the first time I saw it. It also reminded me of a zombie movie. It was beautiful, strange, austere, and magical. The final scenes of Visconti's Death in Venice are so moving. The protagonist gets a make-over to try to make himself appear younger for the beautiful boy Tadzio, the object of his desire. The results are clownish, and as he follows Tadzio around the hot, Plague-infested city, his new black hair dye mixes with sweat and drips down his face. The film images are filled with death, failure, and longing for youth and beauty. A friend of mine drew my attention to the scene in Malick's Badlands where Kit shoots a football.  The football doesn't deflate, so he kicks it flat. It was a funny moment that reveals a fragility of the persona Kit has created for himself. He is acting out being a man. 

Magic Mountain, 2010. Sequins on felt. 27" x 18 1/2"

OPP: How do you think about the film-related sculptures as a group? Is it important that we think of them in relation to one another or only to their sources?

LB: There are certain groupings that are important. Magic MountainOrdet, and Death in Venice pieces were shown together and relate closely. Magic Mountain is a reference to an excerpt from Thomas Mann's book. He used the phrase Field of Dreams to describe the magic of the projected film image. I sewed the phrase with sequins in order to make a tangible representation of the grainy, flickering, projected film frame. The themes of death and longing in the other two pieces and my attempts to make concrete these fleeting filmic moments, relate back to the sequin piece. 

Another grouping that is important to me is My Kuchar, Starring and EphemeraMy Kuchar is a bath mat monument to the (now) late, great filmmaker George Kuchar. There is a moment in his film Hold Me While I'm Naked—a film in which he plays a filmmaker trying to make a film, but all of his actors abandon him—where he comes out of the shower wrapped in a bathrobe, towel turban on head. He is part aging starlet, part Rodin's Balzac, part misunderstood auteur, part overgrown child. The other pieces are imagined detritus of the life that I imagine for Kuchar's character. Ephemera is a flowered long underwear top that I've worn since I was a kid. I embellished it with gold sequins, studs and other shiny things. I imagined his character wearing this shirt under his clothes or alone in his room in his mother's apartment.  Starring  is a scrap of paper I imagined the character carrying in his pocket, repeatedly opening it to read its inspirational message, then returning it to his pocket.

My Kuchar, 201. Bath mats, plaster, styrofoam.

OPP: Would it be going too far to talk about these sculptures as fan art? I should make clear that fan art is not a denigrating term for me, although I acknowledge that many people might sneer at it. I’m very interested in fan art as a creative, engaged way of comprehending the texts we love. It emphasizes the ways that viewers of film and television are not simply passive observers.

LB: It's totally fair to be talking about my work as fan art! And not just of films.  Blue Angel and Ain't Got No/I Got are portraits of Roy Orbison and Nina Simone, respectively. They are attempts to show how much, and specifically how I love both of them as musicians and people. Re-Buiding and Corner are fan art for Gordon Matta Clark. In the end, the work is as much about the sources of inspiration as my own experience being inspired.

AIN'T GOT NO/I GOT (NINA), 2012.

OPP: Since 2015, you’ve been making masks. Before we talk about the specifics, what does the form of the mask mean to you generally? What led you to start making this series?

LB: The masks function in different ways for me. Some are protective, offering a way to watch the world without being seen. Some are transformative, an empowering way to create one's own image. Some of the masks I imagine as a destruction of the wearer’s face. I have been working with these ideas long before I started making literal masks. I even think of the small houses I made as mask-like, deadpan with with window eyes, belying the domestic drama of the house. The series of denim masks I made came out of an invitation to be part of a project for which I would have to make 50 objects. I decided instead of making literal multiples, I would give myself the framework of the denim mask to play with. I had to produce them quickly, which freed me up to improvise. It was a new way of working for me, and I really enjoyed the process.  While some of the masks came from specific sources or ideas, others are intuitive.

Untitled mask, 2017. denim, pyramid studs. 11" x 8"

OPP: Can you talk about the relationship between the simple, almost crude fabric bases and your very labored embellishment with beads, stitch or sequins?

LB: A number of years ago, I had the opportunity to see an exhibition of the Gee's Bend quilts. I was really moved by the way well-worn clothing was used in the quilts. The wear on the fabric made the the pieces so personal, connecting back to the physical life of the wearer. The Quilt Mask I made was inspired by the Gee's Bend quilters. I made it out of faded black t-shirts, mostly my own. Hand-sewing the pieces of t-shirt together, was a way to honor the well-worn t-shirt. 

Embellishment was a strategy I used with earlier clothing pieces. With Ephemera, the piece about George Kuchar, and Failure, I was thinking about motorcycle jackets—more specifically the jacket from Kenneth Anger's Scorpio Rising—and how wearers decorate them to make themselves look and feel more interesting or important. I like the idea of actively failing to appear interesting or important. I am drawn to things that are shiny. I am drawn to things that are simultaneously funny and sad. I think failure can be heroic. In a more practical way, embellishing with beads or studs or stitches, allows me to be fast and slow at the same time, gestural and labored. I like the idea of taking a long time to fail.

To see more of Leah's work, please visit leahbailis.com

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006. Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan, 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis, 2017), Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018) and Kent State Stark (North Canton, 2019). Her work was recently included in the three-person show Manifestations at One After 909 (Chicago).

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1464285 2019-10-09T16:24:37Z 2019-10-09T16:27:08Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Keisha Scarville

KEISHA SCARVILLE's photographs are lush—sometimes with the deep, dense blacks of night and other times with the colliding patterns of her deceased mother's clothing. Driven by an interest in the relationship between the body and the landscape, she uses the camera to capture transformation, absence and the unknown. Keisha studied at the Rochester Institute of Technology and Parsons/The New School. Recent solo exhibitions include Placelessness of Echoes (and kinship of shadows) (2018) at Baxter Street Camera Club of New York and Elegy: Selections from Mama’s Clothes (2018) at Lesley Heller Gallery, where she will have another solo show in 2020. Her work has also been been exhibited at The Studio Museum in Harlem, The Institute of Contemporary Art Philadelphia, The Caribbean Cultural Center African Diaspora Institute, Museum of Contemporary Diasporan Arts, and The Brooklyn Museum of Art. She is a 2019 BRIC Media Arts Fellow. Keisha lives and works in Brooklyn, NY.

OtherPeoplesPixels: Have you always been a photographer? Tell us briefly about your artistic trajectory.

Keisha Scarville: Photography has been my passion for a very long time. At this point in my life, it's hard to imagine a moment when photography wasn't at the forefront of my artistic practice. I grew up wanting to become a writer. I was a voracious reader and always fascinated by the expressive power of the written word. However, things changed when I took a darkroom photography elective in high school. My whole view of life changed the moment I developed my first roll of film. It was a wonderfully magical moment for me. Over the years, I have engaged with sculpture and installations but photography remains my primary mode of visual expression.

OPP: Let’s start with older work first. Who is the young man in Passports? Your repeated manipulation of this photograph seems to fluctuate between revealing hidden aspects of the psyche, playing dress up and hiding one’s identity. How do you think about your action of creating variations of the same image through embellishment, drawing and collage?

KS: The series Passports is an ongoing project where I repeatedly reinterpret my father's earliest passport photo. My father migrated to the United States in the late 1960s from Guyana, South America. I am interested in the aesthetics of a passport photo as a signifier of subjecthood and citizenship, but also the guidelines that inform how one positions and presents oneself within the frame. I employ various mediums—including collage, paint, drawing, glitter—to reveal unseen narratives, latent histories and future aspirations embedded within the archival image. In each piece, I respond to the transformative effects of immigration and my own personal history.

OPP: I get the impression the scale might be a big player in The Placelessness of Echoes (and kinship of shadows) (2016-2018).  How large are these works? What are we missing if we only see this work online?

KS: The prints vary in scale. The largest prints are about 50” x 36.” I think what often is overlooked when viewing the images online is the subtly of dark tones within the prints.

Placelessness of Echoes (and kinship of shadows) is a series that locates itself within the spatial, temporal, and visual ambiguity of night. I draw inspiration from the densely metaphorical writings of the late Guyanese author Wilson Harris, whose first novel, Palace of the Peacock, informed my approach to the images and imagining of new spaces. I mine his philosophies on the “possessed, living landscapes” to contextualize the metaphysics of becoming and variable existences. I am seeking to construct a new topographic understanding of the landscape, which blurs the specificity between the body and the terrain.

OPP: Can you talk about your choice to obscure the identity of the individual with the clothing in your series Mama’s Clothes? What is the role of the figure in relation to the garments?

KS: Mama’s Clothes is a visual and conceptual exploration of the materiality of absence. I began the project after my mother passed away in 2015 after a yearlong battle with cancer. I was inundated with remnants of her presence, specifically her clothing. I became interested in photography’s role—as memorial and as evidence—in the preservation and representation of the body in death. Drawing inspiration from various sources that include spirit photography and the figure of the Egungun, I use my late mother’s clothes and fabrics to visually reconstitute her presence within the pictorial space. The clothing is transformed into a residual surrogate skin and an abstraction of the body. In the series, my hope is to create a visual space where I can conjure her presence while using my body as a medium. 

OPP: When I first looked at these photographs, I was thinking about the very direct effect of grief on the individual and about how people sometimes cling to the clothing of their loved ones after death because they still have their scent. I also thought about how our parents' legacies can be an emotional burden, or maybe that grief is a physical burden. What are your thoughts on my interpretation?

KS: These were all things that I processed while doing the project. While it is an utterly overwhelming experience to lose a parent (particularly when you're very close), the project wasn't born of grief or a sense of burden. Primarily, I was interested in thinking of ways to allow my mother's presence to persist, or even rethinking how I live with the presence of my mother in a different form.

OPP: I especially love the photographs of patterned fabric, both the still lives and the images of fabric in the landscape. Why did you choose to photograph in black & white instead of color?

KS: I enjoy the way in which black & white distills an image. I was looking to visually blend the patterns together, and in some cases, collapse a sense of depth in the images. I loved the way in which these aspects began to percolate in the black & white rendering.

OPP: This reminds me of what you said about the blurring of the "specificity between the body and the terrain." Does your interest in the relationship between the body and the landscape bridge these two bodies of work?

KS: I am constantly reflecting on the interconnectivity of body and landscape in my work. How do various environmental forces shape our sense of self, security and address questions of belonging? How do we engage the body and place as sites to unearth latent narratives? There's a focus on spatiality and materiality in a lot of my work, and I believe that has become my primary avenue to explore these ideas. 

To see more of Keisha's work, please visit keishascarville.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006. Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan, 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis, 2017), Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018) and Kent State Stark (North Canton, 2019). Her work was recently included in the three-person show Manifestations at One After 909 (Chicago).


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1459313 2019-09-25T14:49:46Z 2019-10-21T12:34:18Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Annette Isham

Woman and Landscape Still 2, 2014. Video still.

Performance, persona and endurance are driving forces in the videos and photography of ANNETTE ISHAM. With a penchant for the absurd, she explores a range of subjects, from "middle school sociology" to competitiveness to a near mystical relationship between various female protagonists and their surrounding landscapes. Annette earned her BA in Studio Art at University of Richmond (Virginia) and her MFA at The American University (Washington, D.C.). During her time as a 2012-2014 Hamiltonian Fellow, she had two solo exhibitions at Hamiltonian Gallery in Washington, DC. Her video Among the Multitudes was part of the 2019 CURRENTS New Media Festival in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Clone Corrupt, an upcoming show with artist Marie-Lou Desmeules, will open September 28, 2019 at the Anderson Ranch Gallery in Snowmass, Colorado. Annette lives and works in Denver, Colorado. 

OtherPeoplesPixels: Recent work deals heavily with the human relationship to landscape. Do you think of your current work in relation to the sublime?

Annette Isham: Yes, my work does deal heavily with the human relationship to landscape and it has connections to the sublime on many levels. Throughout my work, the functions of landscape and my body change depending on the project. In my most recent series, Among the Multitudes, I want to simulate the duality of something real and something made both in the environment and in the individual depicted, provoking thoughts of metaphysics. I am interested in the idea of dimensions congruently existing and want to suggest a world where doorways exist within the landscape, where one could be in between two places. I also want the landscape to be the habitat for an unearthly feminine form and represent a place where she visits often, coming and going whenever she wishes.

 

Among the Multitudes, 2018. Video. 5:42 minutes.

OPP: Can you talk about the costume in Among the Multitudes (2018) and Such Swiftly Subside (2018), among others? Sometimes the figure evokes a sumo wrestler, sometimes a whirling dervish.

AI: I just looked up whirling dervishes, and I love that reference. The costume in the series Among the Multitudes was very exciting for me because it is my most ambitious costume to date. It was designed with the movement of my drone in mind. What I find so beautiful about drone footage is that it can change perspectives at a whim and I wanted to design a costume that could respond, multiplying and dividing just as easily. I also wanted the costume to be big and bubbly and flowing and move with the environment. These shoots are done in the middle of the wilderness, so making the suit light, flexible and functional was important. As for the look, I wanted the suit to have an overwhelming femininity to it, so I used lots of flaps, pink and flesh colored tones, curves and hair. 

 

Such Swiftly Subside, 2018. Video. 5:11 minutes.

OPP: Are the movements choreographed or improvised?

AI: My movements in the performance were more or less improvised. I knew I wanted to divide and multiply so I did a lot of bending, jumping, and spinning. Sometimes I felt like I was dancing and working with the drone and sometimes I felt the need to evade the drone. I am an athlete, so having a physical relationship to all these ideas is natural and significant for me. In the performance, it important for me to exhaust my body in the moment.  And to work with the wind, the moving camera, and react to elements as they arise.

Into Another 2, 2018. Video. 1:18 minutes.

OPP: Who is the Venus of White River National Forest (2018)? What do you want viewers to understand about her? 

AI: The narrative of Venus of White River National Forest was developed right after I moved back to Colorado after spending over a decade on the East Coast. Being back out West—Colorado as the “West” is debatable to some—I started to seriously think about my relationship to the mountains, the Rockies in particular, and my relationship with pioneer history as a bi-racial woman born in the Dominican Republic. I considered romantic notions of the West and how they are currently appropriated. I began working through these thoughts by deconstructing imagery of western landscapes, after which I developed a Venus narrative that disrupted those initial notions. The Venus of White River National Forest is a blob of brown woman. She is agile, eats well and knows the land. Sometimes she is tracked and hunted. Most importantly, she can teleport to another dimension whenever she wants and has many homes.

Jane, 2017. Video Still 1

OPP: How is she different than the woman of Woman and Landscape (2013) or Jane (2013)?

AI: Jane was one of the first times I’ve dealt with landscape. Up to that point I was doing a lot of performance videos in which I would investigate every day tropes and how the façade of those tropes would work their way into our identities. I am very interested in romance, and I had just read the novel Jane Eyre and subsequently watched the movie. In my video, Jane, I wanted to create an extremely vulnerable and desperate situation for a young lady who obviously just got her heart ripped out. I thought the vastness of the Alaskan landscape would add to her desperation and foolishness. 

The series Woman in Landscape began with me taking a lot of road trips across North America. On the open road, looking out the window, I began to envision a being that could traverse the entire country in just a few steps. Stilts were made so that I would be hovering in the shot. This piece turned out different than what I initially sketched out and the series was much more about the performance than the narrative. It was about pushing my body physically, balancing on stilts on the uneven terrain of various American deserts. 

Venus of White River National Forest is different than the other characters because the narrative is a more personal interpretation of my relationship with the Western Landscape. I was also trying to offer a more magical being that is more comfortable in her surroundings.

You Can't Tell Anyone, Ever, 2013. Video still.

OPP: Some works are comedic while others are contemplative. How does ☮2U4URAQTπ (2013) relate to the recent landscape video work?

AI: ☮2U4URAQTπ seems to be the outlier, but for me it always seems to cover the basics of what I am trying to get at in my work: searching for what informs my identity while being sarcastic. I think the series ☮2U4URAQTπ relates to my most recent work because middle school individuality is just as absurd as twirling around in a forest in a suit made with dozens of breasts. I love the absurd and enjoy making absurd work because it can often reveal the most truth.

PLAY, 2015. Installation view of exhibition with Zac Willis.

OPP: Tell us about your ongoing collaboration with artist Zac Willis. I’m specifically interested in the Competition series. You are seriously funny in the various Challenge Videos!

AI: Ha! Yes, I love my collaboration pieces with Zac. We began making collaborative work in 2013 and since then have made many exhibitions, curated shows and recorded a yearlong podcast. Zac is one of my best friends, and he’s also a great artist who has many contrasting approaches to making work. He is an obsessive documentarian and an unbelievable craftsman.The inspiration for the Competition Series came from the fact that we are both very competitive in nature. What we found interesting was how familiar the rhetoric about winning, losing, giving it your all, and of course, the fans felt when comparing it to our art practices. Natural correlations were made between the competitive nature of art world communities and our performance of these various obnoxious physical feats. For us, the work really came together when we put the Competition Series in an art gallery setting. We transformed the gallery into our own personal trophy room. We filled space with promotional posters, prized competition relics and video of each competition. Zac and I are currently planning another series. I will most likely win. 

PLAY, 2015. Installation view of exhibition with Zac Willis.

OPP: You have a two-person with Marie Lou Desmeules opening on September 30, 2019 at Anderson Ranch Gallery. What can viewers expect to see in Clone Corrupt

AI: Marie Lou is a French-Canadian artist living and working in Barcelona, Spain. We met a few years ago when were both resident artists at Anderson Ranch in Colorado. Marie Lou’s process is unique in that she uses people as a medium, along with paints, wigs and other materials, to appropriate well know iconic figures. The results from this process are eerie and it brings up many questions around of the performative nature of the human condition and the role icons play in our daily lives. She has been making crazy new videos and this work will be shown alongside my new installation work in an exhibition we titled Clone Corrupt. For my portion of the exhibit, I will be combining my new video work with overlapping altered projections of the same footage. The installation Among the Multitudes will be repeating, growing and shrinking suggesting congruent doorways and replicating dimensions. 

To see more of Annette's work, please visit annettewashburneisham.com

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006. Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan, 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis, 2017), Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018) and Kent State Stark (North Canton, 2019). Her work was recently included in the three-person show Manifestations at One After 909 (Chicago).

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1454141 2019-09-11T14:10:58Z 2019-09-16T16:45:31Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Erik Geschke

Parts and Accessories, 2019. Installation view. Carnation Contemporary.

ERIK GESCHKE's sculptures are well-crafted, clean reproductions of symbolic objects that have a relationship to Western Modernity. He deftly uses dry humor, scale and material shifts and the language of museum display to entice the viewer into seeing familiar objects in a new light. Erik earned his BFA at Cornish College of the Arts (Seattle) and his MFA at Maryland Institute College of Art (Baltimore). He attended Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture in 1996 and Pilchuck Glass School in 1999 and has been an Artist-in-Residence at Vermont Studio Center (2001), Sculpture Space Inc. (2002), and Djerassi Resident Artist Program (2013). Erik's numerous exhibitions include solo shows at Cornish College of the Arts, ZieherSmith GalleryPacific Northwest College of Art, Pratt Fine Arts Center, Seattle Art Museum's SAM Gallery, and Vox Populi Gallery. Most recently, Parts and Accessories was exhibited at Northeastern Illinois University (Chicago) in 2018 and Carnation Contemporary (Portland, OR) in 2019. Erik lives and works in Portland, Oregon, where he is an Associate Professor of Art at Portland State University.

OtherPeoplesPixels: What role does artifice play in your work?

Erik Geschke: Artifice plays a central role in my work. The words art and artifice share the same Latin root, ars, which means both “skill/craft” and “trick/wile.” This connection influences how I think about the nature of art and what I do as an artist. When anything is represented or recreated, the artist asks the viewer for their willing suspension of disbelief, which allows the viewer to experience something unexpected. 

The use of this strategy to lure and entice the viewer into this suspension is very fascinating to me. I make work that can be deceptive or confuse the viewer. I want them to question what they’re looking at and what exactly “art” is and what it can be. I also want the viewer to consider the relationship of the art object to the abundance of human-made and naturally occurring objects that inhabit our world.  I do this by creating copies, surrogates and simulations of these identifiable forms with shifts in scale and material transformations. I use artifice as a means for the viewer to question both their perceptions and their understanding of the physical world.

Cracks in the Stable, 2015. Aqua Resin, fiberglass, pigment, and acrylic polymer.16” x 96” x 72”

OPP: Your work is definitely in conversation with Minimalist sculpture, while eschewing the non-contingency of Modernism. How informed are you by these art-historical precedents?

EG: My work is very informed by these art-historical precedents. When I was an undergraduate student the late 80s and early 90s, it had still been a relatively short period of time since Modernist thinking had fallen out of favor. It was often viewed with skepticism or derided. My references to Modernism and Minimalist sculpture, in particular, contain equal parts reverence and irreverence. Minimalism’s paring down of elements and elimination of non-essential forms and features aligns with with both my thinking and aesthetics. But I believe its attempt at an extreme form of abstraction that’s completely objective and non-referential is impossible and therefore a bit comical. There’s something so hopelessly idealistic about it, and I like to play off that in my references to minimalism. 

Accretion, 2013. Wood, aluminum, Aqua Resin, polyester resin, fiberglass, epoxy, hardware, and acrylic. 36" x 43" x 65."

OPP: What else informs your work?

EG: My work is also informed by human-made objects and structures of utility and their inherent symbolism and history. For this, I turn to the disciplines of industrial design and architecture. The work is informed by the ways we represent both ourselves and the natural world, so forms of simulation found in both cinema special effects and museum dioramas have been influential. Humor and satire are also present in my work and I attribute this to an early interest in cartooning and underground comics. Early on, I used humor as a way to discuss darker themes. The influence of cartooning can be seen in the way I render things, the odd shifts in scale and my simplified color palette. 

Arena, 2015. Wood, alkyd enamel, flock, felt, and vinyl. 3” x 64” x 64” (Detail)

OPP: Untitled (Social Engineering) (2011) and Untitled (Invidious Consumption) (2014) are connected through the form of the geodesic dome. What does this form mean to you?

EG: Growing up on the West Coast in the 70s and 80s, I encountered geodesic domes in a variety of contexts, from countercultural music events to a futuristic architectural experiments or school playgrounds. Later I came to understand its connection to Modernist architecture through the work of architect, designer and futurist R. Buckminster Fuller. While he didn’t invent the geodesic dome, he certainly popularized it. I consider this iconic structure to be a symbol, synonymous with Modernist concepts of progress, societal ideals and utopian aspirations. 

Untitled (Invidious Consumption), 2014. Hemlock, brass, and shellac. 36” x 72” x 72”

OPP: How do the materials in each of these works change the form?

EG: Untitled (Social Engineering) (2011) directly explores the structure’s connection with the utopian aspirations of Modernism coupled with the carnage of the 20th century, the same time period in which Modernism came to prominence. It’s made of 65 cast plastic human femur bones, both left and right, creating a macabre cautionary tale, calling attention to the irony that many of these utopian aspirations led to the dystopias of war and genocide, of which the 20th Century saw many. While the theme is dark, I rendered it at the scale of a child’s jungle gym and the bones are a pale white plastic, giving the structure an unthreatening toy-like quality.

The other geodesic dome piece I’ve made is Untitled (Invidious Consumption) (2014). I knew that I wanted to create a work that dealt specifically with the Modernist rejection of ornamentation in design. The inspiration for this concept came from reading the essay Ornament and Crime by Modernist architect Adolf Loos. In his essay, Loos criticizes the use of ornamentation in useful objects. Loos went as far as describing the presence of ornamentation as immoral and degenerate; a crime. To counter this, I made the iconic modernist structure out 65 lathe turned ornamental neoclassical architectural balusters made of Hemlock and connected with brass fittings. An odd dissonance was created by making the structure out of materials with a design that alludes to time prior to the Modernist era. 

Veneer, 2018, Wood, PVC, steel, hardware, and acrylic enamel. 96” x 96” x 72”

OPP: Another recurring element is the metal structure that for me evokes a billboard in Device (2015) and Veneer (2018). How is this “support” structure key to understanding whatever element it is holding up?

EG: These pieces explore the power dynamics of architecture. I’ve made a number of pieces over the years that utilize the billboard scaffold structure. Initially, I was drawn to the aesthetics of the structure and  the literal connection between its form and function. Prior to Device and Veneer, I had placed silhouette cutouts and text on the structures.I wanted to draw a parallel between the supported fragment of architecture and a billboard advertisement. Architectural structures can imply wealth, exclusivity and dominance. Having them also operate as a façade indicates how often times these displays of power and authority are in fact thinly disguised vulnerabilities.

I developed the concept for Device (2015) during the run-up to the 2016 U.S. Presidential Election, when the xenophobic rhetoric of “The Wall” first entered the public consciousness. The scaffold supports a fragment of a cinderblock wall. It calls attention to the symbolism of a wall as something that can be used to play upon the public’s primitive instincts and fear of the other. Placing it on a façade calls attention to the structure’s inherent weakness and limitation and exposes it as a mere rhetorical device. 

Veneer (2018), on the other hand, explores interior projections of wealth, power and authority through decoration with nods to Neoclassicism and its tradition. The piece symbolically represents the aristocracy. Mounted on the scaffold is a fragment of whitewashed, wainscoted, decorative wall. Its ostentatious design implies the ability to afford finery. The title alludes to the thin veneer upon which displays of wealth are often dependent. 

Parts and Accessories, Installation View, 2019, Carnation Contemporary.

OPP: Tell us about your most recent solo exhibition Parts and Accessories (Chicago 2018 and Portland 2019), which explored “issues surrounding class, dystopia, and modernity.” 

EG: When I started this body of work, I knew that I wanted to explore issues of class. Wealth inequality has reached levels that have not been seen since just prior to the start of the Great Depression. It’s reminiscent of a new Gilded Age. We are similarly seeing vast creations of wealth through rapid technological advancement in a system geared towards the consolidation of wealth into fewer and fewer hands. 

My work often employs the remaking of the recognizable and familiar. I specifically selected objects that symbolized either a sense of wealth and pedigree—an ornately wainscoted wall, a top hat, a gavel—or its opposite—workers’ hardhats, a humble throw rug or a bare suspended light bulb. I purposefully make things in an exacting way with refined surfaces that are largely devoid of expression. I do this as a way for the object to have a sense of anonymity, similar to mass-produced objects. 

Parts and Accessories, Installation View, 2019, Carnation Contemporary

OPP: Tell us about the arrangement of the objects in the exhibition space.

EG: I wanted them to confront the viewer upon entering the space. They are predominately displayed facing the entrance. With these symbolic objects representing different levels of class and authority, there is purposeful hierarchy to the arrangement. Objects in front were presented low to the ground with an increase in size and scale moving towards the back of the arrangement. With the exception of one piece—a solitary disposable coffee cup—all the objects are displayed on a pedestal or platform, isolating each object and calling attention to its cultural value or commodity. This orderly arrangement references both methods of museum and retail display. 

As with any issue I choose to explore in my work, I want to avoid being overly didactic and sanctimonious. I’m not looking to provide answers for the viewer, but rather to offer them something to ponder and consider.

Plot, 2018, Aqua Resin, fiberglass, and acrylic, 4” x 50” x 72” 

OPP: What’s your experience in the studio right after completing a solo show?

EG: I’m usually focused on cleaning up the aftermath. There’s always a push to meet an exhibition deadline and especially so when it’s a solo show. No matter the level of planning, discipline and time spent in creating a new body of work, art making is an inexact science. There’s usually a rush at the end when cleaning and organization fall by the wayside. As a result, the time immediately afterwards is spent literally picking up the pieces. Having done this for a while now, there’s a bit of a ritual to the process. After months of focusing on one end goal and activity, there’s an odd sense of quietness in the studio. This quietness coupled with cleanup and organization provides a good time to think and reflect. 

Creating my work is very time intensive and involves a great deal of physical and mental energy. I always need a period of recharge afterwards. I require time away from the studio, so I prioritize self-care and rest. I’m a full-time academic with an active professional career; work/life balance is often difficult to achieve. After finishing a big show, I need to spend time catching up with friends and exploring environs outside the studio. It’s vital. 

There’s also a period of time after being in production mode where there is a shift in focus from making to promoting what has been made. My work is primarily funded through both professional and academic grants and fellowships, so I have a cycle of production followed by exhibition, promotion, and securing the necessary funds for the next body of work. I’ve been fortunate in that new opportunities always arise, new ideas always present themselves, and the cycle begins again.  

In memory of Gerald Gilbert Geschke, 1931-2019

To see more of Erik's work, please visit www.erikgeschke.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006. Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan, 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis, 2017), Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018) and Kent State Stark (North Canton, 2019). Her work was recently included in the three-person show Manifestations at One After 909 (Chicago).


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1449532 2019-08-28T15:29:22Z 2019-08-28T15:35:29Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Krista LaBella

Venus Altarpiece, 2014. Inkjet print. Triptych (outer panels 24 x 36," center panel 26 x 38”)

KRISTA LABELLA is a "multi-media artist who embraces the voluptuous, fat, female body." The photographic works from I Am Venus (2014-2018) make references to early 20th century pinup girls, as well as art historical works like Ingres’ La Grande Odalisque (1814), Manet’s Olympia (1863) and Venus of Willendorf (estimated 30,000 BCE). She combines a feminist defiance with the objectification of the female body in order to destabilize Western, white beauty standards. Krista received her BFA from Hartford Art School and her MFA from Pratt Institute. In 2018, Krista had her first solo show Fleshy Fruitat Random Access Gallery at Syracuse University. In August 2019, she was an Artist-in-Residence at 77Artin Rutland, Vermont, and her work was included in a digital gallery in the exhibition Be Seen: Portrait Photography Since Stonewall at The Wadsworth in Hartford, Connecticut. She has been featured on the Headlining Humans YouTube Channel for #whyicreate series. Krista lives and works in Brooklyn, New York. 

OtherPeoplesPixels: Do you have a specific audience in mind? Do you think more about thin people, fat women or heterosexual men with porn-influenced expectations of women’s bodies?

Krista LaBella: When I began creating the photographs in I am Venus I didn’t have a specific audience in mind other than myself. I wanted to make something that was deeply personal to me but that I felt could speak to a broader female experience. It was less about targeting a specific audience and more about just disrupting the expected images of contemporary nude women that you normally see in advertisements, magazines, tv, porn and other media. At first, I started making photographs with props that were funny, trashy, bawdy, but these images never really came together. So I began dialing it back, creating simple compositions in my home, utilizing very few props and very little furniture. The only thing that really stuck were my stilettos. The use of the stilettos exuded femininity, power, sexuality and even violence. By keeping the sets simple and focusing on the colors and shapes of my body and the light, it made the work more about my body as a sculpture and about my gaze. 

Judgement Venus (Green Couch Selfie), 2014. Inkjet print. 22 x 30”

OPP: Talk about the Venus as inspiration for these images.

KL: When I was making these photos, I saw them as a performance of the Venus. They embody the female nude over the course of human history. I see my body at a contemporary manifestation of the Venus of Willendorf which, arguably (or maybe not) is the first piece of art ever created by humans. And looking at pastel nudes by Degas, the Grand Odalisque by Ingres, Rubens’ nudes, modern Pin-Up models, and all the countless nude female figures in the history of art, influenced my work significantly. I felt like I often channeled these other paintings into my work. For example, after I did a shoot in my bedroom I realized that I made a photo that felt very much like Manet’s Olympia—so I embraced the photo as the contemporary Olympia. 

It was only after  I did my first shoot for I am Venus that I realized that the intended audience for the work is the straight male and the purpose of the work is to deflect the male gaze. I always describe the phenomenon of my gaze in these works as: “I both invite and reject the viewer’s gaze: I gaze back knowingly, self-assured. I am both the see-er and the seen.”

Venus Window Selfies. 2014. Inkjet prints. Diptych, 20 x 30” each panel.

OPP: I’m curious about your use of the term “selfie” as opposed to “self-portrait.” I see these as very different—but obviously connected—genres of photography. The “selfie” denotes an amateur endeavor that wouldn’t exist without smartphones, while the “self-portrait” has a much longer artistic lineage. Does this distinction matter to you?

KL: The distinction between the traditional “self-portrait” and the “selfie” is not important to me. I realize that the “I am Venus” self-portraits are not true to the idea of a selfie. However, I do take all of the images alone, of myself, with a shutter-release remote with the intent to share with an audience so it felt appropriate for the work as the contemporary self-portrait. I was already aligning my body within the art historical lineage of the nude and I needed to break away from that a bit- I needed to remind people that this is relevant to today, that this is a quick snapshot in a broader context and a small flash in a series of hundreds of digital images. Using the term “selfie” doesn’t diminish the work or make it amateur because the content is still there. But it does recognize that this was created in a time where self-portraiture has taken a leap into the hands of the masses. 

Centerfold, 2012. mixed/ collage. 10.5 x 8 in (opens to 10.5 x 16 and 10.5 x 24)

OPP: What role does humor play in your work?

KL: I get this question a lot! I always speak about my work in a very serious way because it touches on a lot of current issues about body image, self acceptance, the expectations of the fat female body, and how we fit in society. But there is definitely humor in my work. Sometimes there’s an aloofness in my stare, sometimes I crush creamy doughnuts with my tits, sometimes I drape pearls all over my chest and title the photograph Pearl Necklace. There is need for some comic relief. These images are a representation of me, not only as the subject but also a reflection of my personality. I am serious and passionate about my work and the issues I make art about, but I like to laugh and I won’t apologize for my body. I like pushing people’s buttons and seeing how far I can take a tasteless sex joke in my work. It’s the layers of content, the seriousness and the jokes, and the art historical references that make the work interesting and not just another nude falling into the art timeline. 

Pearl Necklace and Peach, 2018. Instant photography. 9 photos 3.5 x 4.25” each, mounted to 16 x 20."

OPP: How did I am Venus (2017) transition into Pearl Necklaces & Other Objects (2018)?

KL: Pearl Necklace and Other Objects started as a joke. I was at an artist residency in the summer of 2018 and started making more Venus images, but they weren’t interesting anymore. I had carried pounds and pounds of glitter—leftover from a project that never came to be—with me to this residency, so I dumped it all over my chest and took about 20 images of my glittery chest with my Lomo’Instant Wide camera. I started taking hundreds of photos every day during the residency after lunch when the light was the best in my studio. The Lomo’Instant is great because it’s like a Polaroid camera, and the images just shoot out instantly. It was exciting, fast-paced, performative and almost sculptural. I would find things to crush with my bulbous breasts—they are huge! I would use  fruits with sexual meanings, like the peach, and cream-filled doughnuts. I would crush vaginal flowers, anything that had a sexual connotation was crushed or overtaken by my tits and photographed. I also would use items that represented femininity like pearl necklaces, vintage tea cups, lipstick, etc. It felt like the messier and weirder it was, the better the images came out. I had other artists in my studio constantly and whenever they asked me about these images, I would just tell them I was recreating traditional still-life paintings as sex scenes on my tits.

Cream Doughnut, 2018. Instant photography. 12 photos 3.5 x 4.25” each, mounted to 16 x 20."

OPP: Can you talk about the relationship of food and sex in this series? What does this work say about sexual objectification?

KL: Regarding the food specifically, I wanted to add food to my work for a long time. As a fat person, other people are obsessed with your eating habits and assume you must just eat trash constantly. Bringing food into the performance and the images made sense. It just took awhile to get there and make something interesting with it. I titled my first solo show Fleshy Fruit after I began this body of work. I see these images as a spiritual experience of excess, and of our insatiable appetite for food and sex. They reference food fetishism, porn, and cam culture. The viewer visually consumes, admires, and even worships the fleshy fruit that is Venus—me.

Untitled Venus (Red Couch Selfie), 2014. Digital photograph. Censored for Instagram 2018.

OPP: When I first saw your work on Instagram, I thought the cartoon “stickers” of cherries and peaches were part of the work, and I read it as a clever rebuke of censorship. Only later did I realize the fruits were an attempt to avoid being censored on Instagram. Can you talk about your experiences with censorship and sharing nude imagery on Instagram?

KL: Yes! The cherries and stickers on my work are my way of making the work “appropriate” for Instagram. This is an interesting question though because over time they do become part of the work. I choose the censor stickers  to be funny and/ or reference the body part they are covering up. Once the images exists in the world as a censored image in this way, it begins to take on a new life as a new work (and comments on society’s idea of modesty and outdated views of the body and feminine values). I am not thrilled that I have to censor the work, but in order to use the platforms, I do it. I find that even in my text and hashtags to go along with my images, I am “too explicit” by Instagram standards. I am often shadow-banned (taken out of public search results) as punishment for using hashtags that are not approved (#pussy is not well-liked by Instagram). 

Sliced Peach with Pearl Necklace (on a Silver Platter on a Rose Gold Sequined Wall), 2019.

OPP: What's going on in your studio right now? Are you pursuing any new directions at the moment?

KL: Right now I am really excited about what is happening in my studio! Pearl Necklace and Other Objects is evolving. I am introducing more materials and experimenting with the way these instant photographs are displayed. I have been collecting glittery and sequined fabrics in flesh tones and rose gold that I am beginning to cover the walls of my studio with. I have yards and yards of faux fur in shades of white, pink and black that I am excited to use in an installation in some way. I also have been collecting silver platters and placing sexy images of my tits on these platters instead of framing them. I am interested in pushing the tackiness and trashiness of the work to the max to see where it takes me.

To see more of Krista's work, please visit kristalabella.com

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006. Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan, 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis, 2017), Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018) and Kent State Stark (North Canton, 2019). Her work was recently included in the three-person show Manifestations at One After 909 (Chicago).


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1444912 2019-08-15T00:06:29Z 2019-08-15T00:13:27Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Michelle Murillo

Destinations (detail). Screen print on glass. 50 glass post cards. 3.5" x 5.5" each.

In MICHELLE MURILLO's work, water is a recurring metaphor for migration, and her ancestors' identification cards and passports are a poignant visualization of her own DNA test results. She combines the repetition inherent in printmaking with the spirit of archiving and mapping to explore the relationship between ancestry and identity. Michelle holds a BFA from Boston University and a MFA from the University of Alberta, Canada. She exhibits internationally, including shows in China, Argentina, Ireland and Canada. In 2018, her solo exhibition Adrift was on view at Museo de Prehistoria y Arqueologia de Cantabria (Santander, Spain), and she was an Artist-in-Residence at Edition Basel at Kaskadenkondensator Gallery (Basel, Switzerland). In 2019 her work was included in Aperturas, a satellite group show of the Havana Biennial (Cuba). She was a 2018-19 Affiliate Artist at Headlands Center for the Arts (Sausalito, California). Michelle lives and works in Oakland, California.

OtherPeoplesPixels: What do you love about printmaking? Is there anything you hate about it?

Michelle Murillo: I am drawn to print because it is a versatile set of media that can be combined with other forms such as drawing, photography, textiles and glass to create hybrid works or prints alone. I enjoy every aspect of it. The process inherent in print lends itself to a methodical way of making that allows an image to develop over time. While some people may find these aspects constraining, I also welcome the possibility that missteps or failures in the technique can present unexpected outcomes that I would not have envisioned if it were not for the transformation that an image undergoes through printing. 

Plotting Transience, 2015. Kilnformed glass, vellum, chalk, map pins. 13' x 10' wall, 13' x 10' floor.

OPP: In your solo show A Measure of Time (2015), you use various methods and media to visually represent your “conservative, standard and speculative” DNA test results. How do the works in the show reveal your understanding of identity?

MM: As an American of Irish and Colombian descent, I have always been interested in how one defines and creates their identity through place, culture and politics. Broadly, the show presented what I discovered from the DNA test, and it attempted to acknowledge the intersections between ancestry and identify. I translated this into visual form by using the DNA data along with documents from my family archive to create metaphorical maps that tell a story about my ancestor's origins. 

A fascinating aspect of the DNA testing is that the results continue to shift over time as the database and technology evolves. A few years ago the percentages were different, some information fell away while new details emerged. With this realization I wanted to visually record the shifting information. The piece DNA Map for a Shifting identity is comprised of shapes that represent the geographic regions of my lineage. Each region is represented by a unique color that corresponds to a map key. The transparent regions on the wall represent the increments and geographic regions that have fluctuated in the results. 

Michelle Murillo, 2011. Glass Driver's License (screen printed and fused powdered glass). 2" x 3.5"

OPP: Can you talk about your use of multiples in Waypoints? What role does variation play in this work?

MM: The use of multiples and repetition of the identity cards is used to map the "conservative" version of my DNA test results. I chose family identification cards to represent specific lineages- British/Irish, African and Native American. The sum of the known percentages totals 86%, leaving 14% unaccounted for. Therefore the piece is comprised of 86 prints and 14 empty standoffs. Variation is visible in the unique and slightly different impressions made by the process of screen printing with powdered glass. This variability suggests that identity is mutable and in flux just as the DNA test shows.

Waypoints, 2015. Powdered glass screen prints. 2x3.5," 3x4.5," 4x6.5" each.

OPP: I’m interested in how artists—myself included—often get something out of a project that is different than what is in the artist statement. In archiving your family’s passports, ID cards and other documents in etched glass, are your personal motivations the same as your artistic motivations?

MM: My creative practice is grounded in research that drives both content and form, so in a sense the motivations are the same. This work is inspired by my curiosity to know more about my family history and it represents material investigations across print and glass that I explored during a residency at Bullseye Glass. By archiving my family documents in a fragile material like glass, there is tension created between preservation and loss, which is a recurring theme in my work. The translation of the documents into another form can take on new meaning and depth as interpreted by the viewer. 

Adrift: 1979, Rosalba Llanos de Muñoz. Digital decal print, sandblasted glass. 36 x 21"

OPP: You've just spent a year as an Affiliate Artist at Headlands Center for the Arts. Tell us about your cyanotypes of the San Francisco Bay. How does the medium of cyanotype support your conceptual concerns?

MM: The work created at the Headlands continues to explore ancestry through the theme of migration, specifically the journeys of my great grandmothers. Map of Migrations is created from photographs of observations of the San Francisco Bay. Looking east into the bay, the images of water are the first impressions one has as they pass through the Golden Gate Bridge and arrive at the California shore. 

Historically the cyanotype was used in the 19th century to reproduce diagrams commonly known as blueprints. The Prussian blue of the photochemical process is befitting of the water vistas and like nautical navigation charts the cyanotypes become blueprints of passage through the Golden Gate. In this work, water is the liminal space, in between continental geography and a vehicle for travel, navigation and migration. 

Cyanotype, screen print. Site specific installation, Headlands Center for the Arts

OPP: Certainly the conclusions you draw about your own ancestry are both specific to your family and not unlike the stories of many Americans. Do you have any interest in exploring the DNA results or migratory histories of other people?

MM: The DNA test revealed that I am more of a global citizen than I could have ever imagined, and I still feel that I only know what is at the surface. Diving deeper into my ancestry takes me to Ireland, Great Britain, Spain, Colombia and West Africa, among other places. I think there are global through lines and connections to be found that will lead me to other people's histories. As I research I realize there is more to learn about migration and the circumstances that led people to uproot their lives. We are interconnected as a global community, and I find our shared history intriguing. 

100 Sons and Daughters. Screen prints. 6' x 25'

OPP: You've mentioned that you are in the early stages of putting together a solo show and residency in Cork, Ireland, where some of your ancestors lived. Tell us about this upcoming project and what you are planning. 

MM:  I plan to embark on a project that follows the traditions of craft from my ancestors to the present. My ancestors from Cork, Ireland were blacksmiths, shoemakers and cooks. I am in the early stages of piecing together all of the parts, and perhaps the show will include an oral history and work I make on site to create a portrait of the place that my ancestors once called home.


To see more of Michelle's work, please visit michellemurillo.net.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006. Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan, 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis, 2017), Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018) and Kent State Stark (North Canton, 2019). Her work was most recently included in the three-person show Manifestations at One After 909 (Chicago).

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1439582 2019-07-31T18:02:18Z 2019-10-29T05:04:44Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Donté K. Hayes

Motherboard, 2018. Ceramic, Underglaze, Glaze.13" x 8" x 5"

Influenced by science fiction, history and hip-hop, DONTÉ K. HAYES works in the spirit of Afrofuturism. His hand-built ceramics allude to the black body through texture and color, while his titles refer to both the imagined possibilities and the historical truth of the African Diaspora. Donté earned his BFA in Ceramics and Printmaking at Kennesaw State University in Georgia and is currently an MFA candidate at The University of Iowa. In July 2019, he was an Artaxis Fellow at Haystack Mountain School of Crafts and he received a Zenobia Award to attend Watershed Center for the Ceramic Arts, where he is currently in residence. Funkadelic Awakening: A Futuristic Resistance, a three-person show with Featured Artist Jennifer Ling Datchuck and Salvador Jiménez-Flores, just closed at The Clay Studio in Philadelphia. Donté has three works on view in the DUMA Biennial—juried by Sarah Humphreville, Senior Curatorial Assistant at the Whitney Museum—at the Dubuque Museum of Art through September 8, 2019, and he will have solo exhibitions at Garner Narrative (Louisville, Kentucky) and Iowa Ceramics Center and Glass Studio (Cedar Rapids, Iowa) in 2020. Donté lives and works in Iowa City, Iowa.

OtherPeoplesPixels: When did you first begin working in ceramics?

Donté K. Hayes: In 2015, I went back to college in my late 30s to study Drawing, Painting and Printmaking at Kennesaw State University in suburban Atlanta. I needed a three-dimensional art class to meet the requirements for a BFA in Printmaking, so I decided to take Ceramics 1. 

Empire Juice, 2018. Ceramic, Underglaze, Glaze, Gold Luster, Colored Rubber. 11" x 12" x 6"

OPP: What do you love about clay? 

DKH: My love of clay came immediately because the material forces you to remember that you are not in control, especially on the potter’s wheel. I’m definitely not a potter. Creating in clay is hard and challenging and registers the history of my hands throughout the working process. I enjoy the ritual of my hands and clay becoming one through the process of repetition, texture and pattern when making a ceramic object. Clay takes me places in the past, brings clarity to the present and takes my thoughts and desires to the future.  

True Kingz Series: Original King, 2019. Ceramic, Underglaze, Glaze. 11" x 13" x 10"

OPP: What are your favorite sci-fi texts?

DKH: Growing up, I was a big comic book and sci-fi nerd. My favorite comic books were from the Marvel Universe. I collected all the Spider-Man books, AvengersX-MenX-Factor, and my favorite being Black Panther. I’ve been a Black Panther fan way before the movie. Stan Lee and Jack Kirby nurtured my love for art and storytelling. Black Panther showed that a black man can be a strong leader, intelligent, and a hero for his people and all of humanity. Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 continues to resonate with me and how I perceive the future and present day. For example, the “parlor wall” is eerily similar to the flat screen television or cell phone which promotes the propaganda and news of the day. The movies that have influenced my concepts of the future are the Star Wars saga, the German dystopian movie Metropolis and Gattaca. My favorite television shows are the Star Trek universe, specifically Star Trek: Next Generation, and Dr. Who.

OPP: And your Afrofuturist influences?

DKH: My Afrofuturist influences come from Sun RaGeorge Clinton and ParliamentOutkastWu-Tang ClanA Tribe Called QuestThe Roots. Also the British-Ghanaian writer Kodwo EshunW.E.B Du Bois, and Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man

Dalek, 2018. Ceramic. 16" x 13" x 13"

OPP: Your all-black, textured ceramics are really exciting because they resist being static objects. Some have clear cultural references, for example, Dalek. Others, like Baby Boom and Seed, feel like abstractions. Are all of these based on the symbol of the pineapple? What's compelling about this symbol for you?

DKH: Yes, they are first based on the pineapple and then connected to my own influences and thoughts. The use of the pineapple is very important to the work. I’m from Atlanta, Georgia, and the pineapple is a prominent symbol in the south. I have always been fascinated about its origin as an icon for welcoming and hospitality. 

Currently, I am a third-year graduate student at the University of Iowa. Moving from Atlanta to Iowa City has been a hard adjustment. As an African-American and a person of color in a non-diverse city, I’m confronted with the rituals of creating a hospitable environment in my everyday routine. The pop cultural references bring the pineapple symbolism to the present day. For example, Dr. Who’s Daleks are a fictional, extraterrestrial race whose purpose is to “exterminate” all life in the galaxy they deem inferior. Works like Baby Boom and Seedexplore the narrative of how the cultivation of the pineapple created a boom of wealth and power from the blood and backs of enslaved people, while also speaking to the continued contribution of black people and people of color to growth and change in society. The human desire to find a place to belong and call home is universal.

Welcome, 2018. Ceramic. 18" x 16" x 13"

OPP: In looking at works like ArrivalWelcomeNo Welcome and Dalek, I’m thinking a lot about what could have happened, had European explorers had the Star Fleet’s Prime Directive, and what did happen—i.e. the violent conquest of non-Europeans, the theft of territory, the pillaging of natural resources and the enslavement of Africans in the Americas. How do these works speak to the historical truth and the speculative possibilities of first contact?

DKH: The sculptures you mentioned are about people of African descent during the Middle Passage. The Middle Passage was the forced voyage of enslaved Africans to the New World as part of the Atlantic slave trade. Through my research, I have learned that the origin of the pineapple as an symbol of welcoming and hospitality is rooted in slavery and agricultural colonization of the Caribbean, South America, and the Southern United States, in particular, South Carolina and my home state of Georgia. When a new slave ship bringing enslaved Africans docked at the port, the dock foremen would place a pineapple at the front of the dock to announce that a new shipment of enslaved Africans had arrived. Thus creating the pineapple as a symbol for welcoming. 

To further the concept of welcoming, I wanted to create a texture that reinforces the tactile feeling of being warmly embraced. Each sculpture is inspired by the textures in raffia, hair, fabric, carpets and tapestry. These ceramic objects are vessels, each making symbolic allusions to the black body. So through this work, I’m reinterpreting past history to critique the present and give hope to the future. 

True Kingz Series: Wise King, 2018. Ceramic, Underglaze, Glaze. 13" x 9" x 6"

OPP: How do the True Kingz connect the West African tradition of Benin Heads to American Hip-Hop?

DKH: The Benin Heads are Oba, which means ruler or king. Each Benin head was a portrait of how that king wanted to be represented to the masses. The strength of a king is how they can inspire or be the voice of a nation. In the history of hip-hop, the M.C. or master of ceremony has become a cultural king who speaks to this generation’s pain, joy, desires and interests. Hip-hop has become the voice of the people who listen and are inspired by its music. However, not all kings are wise, thoughtful and benevolent to their constituents. Likewise, there are criticisms that can be made about some of the misogyny, violence and glorification of money and materialism in Hip-Hop culture. The True Kingz series is a nuanced physical legacy of the good and the bad in empire worship. 

Afrodisiac, 2018. Ceramic, mason stain, acrylic. 20" x 13" x 15"

OPP: Afrodisiac (2018) stands out visually from all the other sculptures. Is this a one-off or a new direction?

DKH: Afrodisiac is a transitional piece that bridges the True Kingz series and my abstract pineapple sculptural forms. I was at the early stage of my research, so the work is made in a very literal manner. The work is informed by the art historical painting by French Canadian artist François Malépart de Beaucourt, titled, Portrait of a Haitian Woman (1786). This painting is believed to be created in the French colony of Saint-Domingue—now Haiti—before the revolution. The painting depicts an enslaved African woman holding a bowl with pineapple and other fruit while one breast is exposed and hanging out of her dress. The work speaks on multiple levels to past and present depictions of black women in art history. Both the pineapple and the black woman have been used to portray the exotic, status, wealth, power, and abundance. I wanted to create a sculpture which elevates the black woman’s importance as the origin of life and symbol of unconditional love and strength. 

To see more of Donté's work, please visit www.dontekhayes.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006. Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan, 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis, 2017), Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018) and Kent State Stark (North Canton, 2019). Her work is included in the three-person show Manifestations, on view at One After 909 (Chicago) through July 13, 2019.


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1433521 2019-07-17T12:08:30Z 2019-09-01T04:33:25Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Yvette Kaiser-Smith

Wide Ruled: 72535. Two sheets of transparent light bronze and one sheet of matte citrus yellow laser-cut acrylic, nylon spacers, and capped hardware. 23" x 33.375" x 1.5." 2017.

The aesthetics in YVETTE KAISER-SMITH’s abstract work are driven by a deep love of mathematics. In crocheted fiberglass and layered, laser-cut acrylic, she often uses the famous irrational numbers Pi and e as guides to generate patterns, color and form, underlining the presence of math in our world. Yvette earned her BFA at Southern Methodist University (Dallas) and her MFA at the University of Chicago. She exhibits internationally, and her work is included in numerous public collections, including Ukrainian Institute of Modern Art (Chicago), Lubeznik Center for the Arts (Michigan City, IN) and the U.S. Embassy in Abuja, Nigeria. Opening July 16, 2019, her work will be part of BRIDGES LINZ 2019 - Mathematics, Art, Music, Architecture, Education, Culture at the Johannes Kepler University Uni Center in Linz, Austria. Through Artist Residency Vishovgrad. International (ARV.I), Yvette will spend August 2019 in a small village in central Bulgaria, followed by solo exhibition of new work at Gallery Heerz Tooya (Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria). Yvette lives and works in Chicago.

OtherPeoplesPixels: Talk to us about the famous irrational numbers Pi and e. Why do these numbers continue to show up in your work after all these years? 

Yvette Kaiser-Smith: My wall-based, crocheted fiberglass constructions were initially based on identity narratives. In 2001, while looking for a way to randomly punctuate a rhythm within a group of 80+ small units, my math-nerd husband pointed me towards pi. I realized then that numbers are in all aspects of identity and math structures became part of my conceptual toolbox. Since 2007, all my work has been number generated.

Both pi and e are numbers with infinite number of digits where the pattern never repeats.  So, as pi and e are my source material, these numbers that go on forever without repeating, present possibilities of creating an infinite number of new original patterns and spatial relationships. And, math is beautiful.

Identity Sequence e 4. Crocheted fiberglass with polyester resin. 121” x 117” x 8." 2007.

OPP: Is mathematics the content in your work or means to an end?

YKS: Both. I devise systems for visualizing digits of specified sequences. In the crocheted fiberglass works from 2007 and after, this is direct, thereby more obvious and readable. Always as means to an end. Numbers are the works’ referent, their source of abstraction. I use specified sequences as a boundary for experimentation with intent to create new and unpredictable forms and patterns within the scope of minimal, geometric language.

Identity Sequence e 4, which is a grid of 17 rows and 19 columns, is constructed from 323 small units to straightforwardly spell out the first 33 digits of the number e. Reading left to right and top to bottom, pale neutral tone units directly articulate each digit, and fully-saturated colors mark the space between them. 

In more active sculptural forms, a direct, topographic method maps numerical value relationships as spatial relationships. Etudes from Pi in 5 Squared is based on the first 25 digits of the number pi. Reading left to right and top to bottom, a grid organizes 25 units into 5 rows and 5 columns. Curved units alternate from convex to concave. Here, the value of the digit determines the depth of each individual unit’s curve.

Etudes from Pi in 5 Squared. Crocheted fiberglass with polyester resin. 72” x 191” x 33." 2011.

OPP: Can you give us an example of an even more complicated system.

YKS: Lifesaver Movement in e uses two systems that directly reveal numerical values and one to distribute color in a seemingly random pattern. In 30 squares, reading e from the beginning, each square spells out a digit in binary code via the crochet tradition of filet charts. Filet charting is based on patterns created on a grid, where squares are either filled or left open to create an image. The sequence continues to break the line of 30 into groups, floating or dropped. This short sequence is 266249, so you see 2 squares up; 6 squares down; 6 squares up; and so on. I continue to use the sequence to drop placement of color. White was color #1; sequence following 249 in eis 7757; count 7 spaces, white; count 7 spaces, red (color #2); keep running the sequence left to right until all blocks have color.

Lifesaver Movement in e. Crocheted fiberglass with polyester resin. 55 inches x 111 feet x 4 inches. 2014.

OPP: When I first encountered your crocheted fiberglass sculptures, a big part of my excitement was in the soft, flexible structure of the crochet made hard and unyielding. When did you first start using crochet in your work? Have you always preferred hard structures to soft ones?

YKS: During grad school, I constantly tried new materials—sheet metals, wood, wire, rawhide, beeswax—never committing to one. In 1994, I purchased a spool of continuous fiberglass roving, but my trials were unsuccessful, and the spool got shoved under a table. Late one night in 1996, about 1 am, as I hurried past the meat counter at Cub Foods, I saw tripe and stopped in my tracks. My mind flooded with ideas. I saw tripe, I saw fat and lace at the same time. I saw beauty and ugliness in the same form, and immediately I saw a use for that spool of fiberglass roving. I associated lace with crocheting and bought a basic instruction book on how to crochet baby booties and potholders and assorted crochet hooks. A crocheted fiberglass exploration began then and kept me fully engaged until end of 2015. So, how did crochet enter my work? Call it rigorous studio practice or better yet, serendipity.

Untitled. Screenprint. 2016.

OPP: Did you get tired of crochet?

YKS: The crocheted fiberglass material process is labor intensive and physically demanding. I was tired of working in chemicals, tired of sanding fiberglass, but I had no plans to abandon a process I developed over a span of 19 years. Again, serendipity directed the change. Or just call it life.

A wall in my studio was falling apart and had to be rebuilt. Multiple issues stretched what should have taken five-weeks into a two-year job, during which my workspace was a construction zone full of dust and a pile of bricks.  

In early 2016, I took advantage of this unexpected loss of studio by participating in Hyde Park Art Center’s Center Program. Center Program’s goal is to push artists outside of their comfort zones in creation of new works though mentorship, sharing, critiques, a free class and access to Polsky Center’s Fab Lab which is a small but awesome maker space that includes a laser cutter. I entered with intention to transition the math to drawings. Late in the program, while working on my first series of screen-prints, I also qualified on the laser-cutter. The math-mapping system I was using in the print lab was a natural to transition to laser-cut acrylic. And a new obsession began.

pi x 5s (50792). Matte Caribbean blue, transparent yellow, and matte white laser-cut acrylic, nylon spacers, capped hardware. 23" x 17" x 2.25." 2018

OPP: What does laser-cut acrylic allow you to do that crochet could not?

YKS: Every material has its own way of articulating specific things. Crocheted fiberglass and laser-cut acrylic lend themselves to different ways of visualizing digits in their own respective languages. The pi x 5s laser-cut acrylic series systematically maps 5 digits from pi. Here, the value of 4 digits determines diameter of half-circles cut from small panels and the 5th digit moves one by a specific increment. Because no sequence in pi repeats, as I expand this series by following the number in sequence, this system can create an infinite number of unique works.

So far, I’ve only tried three math-mapping systems. Each new one is a reaction to an aspect of its predecessor, and the work is now pushing me to make my hand more visible by adding a hand constructed, non-acrylic element to the acrylic geometric works. These future, still mysterious constructions will need to develop their own language of mapping math, leading to new challenges and new possibilities.

Lake Street 1467. Digital pigment print on transparency film, laser-cut acrylic, polycarbonate spacers, mixed hardware. 23.5" x 21.375" x 5." 2019.

OPP: Recently, you’ve shifted from geometric abstraction into photography. Geometry is still at play, but these are photographs of existing spaces—often under train tracks in Chicago. What led to this shift?

YKS: It’s not a switch but a sidebar. This project was meant to be a one-off adventure with maybe 12 works but finished with 32. Whether photographic or created with Adobe products, images printed on film or clear acrylic, will make their way into the math-based, laser-cut acrylic work, eventually.

The time-consuming nature of crocheted fiberglass work and the privilege of having studio 37 steps from my home, kept me property-bound for a large part of 20 years. In 2016, my city driving increased with weekly treks to Hyde Park for Center Program and later to Polsky Fab Lab. I also joined the 21st century with purchase of a smart phone.

Sitting in rush hour traffic, I began noticing Chicago’s geometry, and then framing geometric abstraction in square and rectangular formats from the driver’s seat of my truck. I developed an obsession with Lake Street and the extreme vanishing point anchored by the elevated Green Line tracks. I have hundreds of cellphone snapshots.  I started sharing a few on social media. A friend noticed and included the Lake Street images in a photography group show proposal conceptually based on borders. In addition to the physical and conceptual borders captured within the image itself, I approached the concept of borders from a place of memory. Probably because, as artist, I have collected hundreds if not thousands of 35mm slides, photographs as records of inventory, and that iPhone image files limit the print size, and that I am currently working with laser-cut acrylic, reference to film and slide mounts became the starting point of presentation for this project. 

From e . . .71456. Panel 3 detail. Crocheted fiberglass with polyester resin. 2011

OPP: And there is a material trajectory that connects this photographic work to all your work.

YKS: As a sculptor, I needed to push these photographs just over the line, into the realm of sculptural objects. I unwittingly gravitate towards transparency. I transitioned from translucent crocheted fiberglass to drawings on matte and clear Dura-Lar to laser-cut translucent or transparent acrylic sheet, so presenting photographic images printed on clear acrylic and transparency film was natural. As artists, no matter where we go (within our studio practice), there we are.

To see more of Yvette's work, please visit yvettekaisersmith.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006. Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan, 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis, 2017), Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018) and Kent State Stark (North Canton, 2019). Her work is included in the three-person show Manifestations, on view at One After 909 (Chicago) through July 13, 2019.


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1427261 2019-07-03T10:55:29Z 2019-07-05T14:54:00Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Christopher Lin

What do you call the world? 2019. Installation.

CHRISTOPHER LIN combines organic materials—plantssoilteethhair—with synthetic and technological materials like polystyreneelectrical cords and LED lights. His sculptures and installations are thoughtful arrangements of found objects that make the familiar just unfamiliar enough to elicit contemplation. . . of climate change, of the impermanence of the body and self, and of the contemporary human condition. Christopher earned his BA at Yale University and his MFA at Hunter College. In addition to numerous group shows throughout the five boroughs, he has had solo shows at Art Bash and Ray Gallery, both in Brooklyn, as well as Thomas Hunter Project Space at Hunter College. He received the C12 Emerging Artist Fellowship in 2016 and is currently an Artist-in-Residence at the Hercules Art Studio Program. His work will be included in The Lovely Wild, curated by Jenn Cacciola and Frank Sabatté. The show opens on Sept 12, 2019 at Church of St. Paul the Apostle through Openings Collective. Christopher lives and works in lives and works in New York. 

OtherPeoplesPixels: I see an underlying buddhist perspective in your work. There are also overt references to the dharma, Zen koans, the breath and the mandala. How does Buddhist practice and/or philosophy inform your work?

Christopher Lin: Yes, there is absolutely a Buddhist influence within my work. Part of this comes from an indirect, cultural relationship. I grew up in a home with underlying Buddhist influences and observances (i.e. maintaining an altar to ancestors and burning incense), though my family never dictated my experience with religion. The other part comes from a personal desire to understand and address spirituality in my own experience. I am lucky to have been able to search for my own understanding of spirituality free from strict direction which led me to explore and define my own system of belief throughout my childhood. I identify more now as a student of Buddhism as a means to better understand abstract ideas such as the human condition. What is it that we are doing here and why? How do we make sense of this world filled with chaos, suffering, and violence? How do we find balance and equilibrium within ourselves and our environment? These are common questions amongst all people, but something that I've found is investigated more directly through Buddhist teachings.

Modern Dharma, 2016. Pencil on index cards (full transcription of Thich Nhat Hanh's "Peace in Every Step"), Buddha's Hand citrons, and lap desk. 24 x 14 x 12 inches.

OPP: There are repeated references to the body through its material castoffs, like hair and skin, and the marks it makes. In recent years, there’s been a trend in work that explores identity through the vehicle of the body, but I don’t think that’s the case here. I think your work is more about the experience of having a body, rather than the interpretations we add to those bodies. What are your thoughts on this? What keeps you returning to the body as a subject?

CL: I think this is a particularly keen reading of my use of body! I’m interested in investigating the human condition. The realization of the dissolution of selfhood and identity is a recurring theme in my works involving the body and perhaps stems from explorations of Buddhist understandings of the ego. I am more interested in how the idea of identity falls apart once we start to inspect it a little further. The molecules that make up our bodies—what we define as us—are constantly changing as we maintain our life processes through consumption and excretion, through breath and contact. What is at one instance us—our hair, our skin—suddenly becomes no longer ourselves through natural processes. And what was once another being—a plant, a cow, the minerals in the water we drink—is incorporated into our cells through consumption and integration. Furthermore we ourselves are ecosystems containing more cells of independent microorganisms numerically than our own human cells! 

Excoriate, 2015. Glue, skin, hair, and gut sutures. 1 x 48 x 36 inches.

Works like Excoriation (2015) present the self through the form of a molting, making evident the exchange of cells that were previously me but upon shedding become a spectral representation of the past. The sloughing of hair and skin cells is one reference to the nature of our temporality. Effigy (2013) is a meditation on my inevitable end. It was a way for me to contemplate the passing of time and dissolution of my own image through the slow burn of sandalwood incense. The collapse of the physical form through the burning gives way to another manifestation of scent and smoke which are briefly captured by the bell jar hung above, making evident a kind of phase change. 

Effigy (performance), 2013. Sandalwood incense, glass bell jar, rope, and pedestal.

OPP: How does “environmental anxiety” show up in your work?

CL: I try to address the current condition of environmental anxiety on a primary level through my material choices. I use found polystyrene ironically. This ubiquitous “archival material" is essentially throw-away packaging. Many works contrast organic and synthetic materials. This can be seen in 1up (2017): a dead and decayed tree on a piece of AstroTurf which appears to be resurrected by the balloon tied to it. Calcification (2018) is more direct: bleached brain coral and sand dollars are organized on a banker’s table like stacks of coins. This tableau links economy and capitalism to the destruction of organisms and habitats, pointing to the failure of our purely rational economic systems. The work poses the question: What is the value of a life, of a habitat, of an interdependent system?

Untitled (Deep Clean), 2016. Graphite on nautilus shell, cotton swabs, ear wax, and polystyrene.10 x 7 x 3.5 inches

OPP: Can you talk us through some works that address complicity and climate change?

CL: Conceptually some of my works attempt to understand levels of complicity with regards to climate change. What role do you or I play in the slow inevitable lurch towards global warming and carbon imbalance? Loaded objects like the air conditioner in Monolith (2015) point a finger at modern habituations and what we have created as our new “normal” living conditions. The ink-loaded bubble solution in Rupture (2015) and Where we begin and end (2015) draws a line between pleasure and beauty and its consequences, likening the blackness of ink to the blackness of oil. These two works depend on conscious and unconscious participation to generate this sense of complicity. Viewers actively blow bubbles to create the mural in Where we begin and end and unintentionally activate the motion sensor which controls the bubble machine in Rupture

Terra nullius, 2016. Globe, belt sander, sanding sponge, grooming table, and extension cord.

OPP: What sensation were you most hoping to evoke for viewers in your recent solo exhibition What do you call the world? (2018)? Can you talk about the symbolism in the objects included in the room?

CL: I conceived of this installation as an exploration of aspects of relativity. On the surface, it was a relative shift of gravity through the flipping of objects from the floor to the ceiling. The room was bathed in the magenta light of the grow lamps, which allowed the peace lilies to grow in an isolated, windowless environment. Viewers experienced a relative color shift after spending just 10-15 seconds in the installation. The eyes would accommodate the intense color, and the brain would adjust the sensation of color to appear normal even within the intensely pink light. One would begin to see greens in the leaves of the plants even though no green light was present in the room! When leaving the room, the color generated from regular light would appear intensely green until the eyes and brain could reacclimatize to neutral lighting. 

Conceptually I was interested in layers of artifice that allow us to perceive reality and how that relates to our contemporary experience of the world. Our brains are powerful intermediaries and interpreters of reality. What we initially find jarring in its unfamiliarity quickly becomes natural and a new normal. A grow room—one of the few ways to sustain plants in the darkness of the urban New York environment—is a strangely synthetic but natural space. I wanted to point a finger at the sci-fi artifice of the modern urban condition. The objects within the room highlight these ideas. A clock with a reversed dial runs counterclockwise such that the time is still accurately reflected. A torn quotation from a Calvin and Hobbes strip about personal gravity appears both right-side-up, yet upside-down. 

A shelf of books suspends source material and relevant readings: a NASA study analyzing and ranking various plants as air filters for space travel, The Biosphereby Vladimir Vernadsky, Vibrant Matter by Jane Bennett, The Interaction of Color by Josef Albers, and Chromophobia by David Batchelor, amongst others.

Wishing Well, 2014. Inflatable swimming pool, water, and ink. 66 inch diameter.

OPP: Your work is both poignant and clever—that’s a hard balance to maintain. Too much cleverness can tip into insincerity; too much poignancy can turn to sentimentality. I think you are able to strike the perfect balance. What do you think of this assessment of your work?

CL: Wow thanks! This is a very generous assessment of my work, and I’m really glad that you read it this way. The intention in all my work is to strike a balance between the known and the unknown. In the spirit of empathy and shared experience, I offer some familiar object or idea as an entry point, then make that starting point unfamiliar through recontextualization. I think at its core this is kind of a Surrealist move. I think the goal of artwork is to allow people a way to approach what they think they know a little differently. But it is important to start somewhere authentic, a real feeling that is deep and generative. As you said, the cleverness of an idea can often deaden a work and make it feel contrived or distant. I think this relates to the push and pull between irony and sincerity in art. An extreme on either side comes off disingenuous or disaffected. I think ultimately the goal of my work is not to find a clear or concrete answer to any of the questions I'm investigating, but to open up a topic or an idea for further personal examination. 

Too see more of Christopher's work, please visit christopherlinstudio.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006. Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan, 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis, 2017), Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018) and Kent State Stark (North Canton, 2019). Her work is included in the three-person show Manifestations, on view at One After 909 (Chicago) through July 13, 2019.


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1424698 2019-06-26T12:49:37Z 2019-06-26T13:02:14Z OPP Featured Artists at Facebook

Steven Vasquez Lopez
Written on the Wall, 2018. Facebook Menlo Park, San Francisco.

Last summer I was invited to be an Artist-in-Residence at Facebook Chicago. I was already familiar with the program because I'd noticed a few OPP artists posting on Instagram about it. Then I started to see OPP Featured Artists all over the Facebook AIR Instagram. Today, I'd like to highlight some of those artists and the mission of Facebook AIR. I reached out to Jessica Shaefer, Head of Public Programming & Partnerships at Facebook, to ask about the program. 

OtherPeoplesPixels: What is the curatorial mission of the Facebook Air program? Is it different from location to location?

Jessica Shaefer: Facebook's Artist in Residence program (FB AIR) encourages creativity, innovation, openness, and connectivity by inviting artists to create site-specific art installations and projects around the world at Facebook offices in their neighboring communities and, increasingly, in the public realm. The FB AIR program's primary goals are to foster connections between cultural producers and diverse audiences in experiential, educational and transformative ways. FB AIR is committed to working with artists at all career stages, including both those who have received global recognition for their work and with those who identify as members of under-represented communities. The FB AIR team consists of makers, curators, and producers who strongly believe in the value and power of art in society. We are committed to providing the space and resources to diverse artists to create original projects that push the boundaries of their respective practices and allow for exploration of new materials and ideas.

Yvette Kaiser-Smith 
Pascal's Bridges, 2018. Crocheted fiberglass with polyester resin, nylon spacers. 96" x 747" x 2"
Facebook Chicago


OPP: Are the invited artists always local? 

JS: The core of our mission is to support artists who are based in neighboring communities of Facebook offices around the world. We have curators based on four continents who focus on sourcing and commissioning artists in each region where Facebook opens an office. An exception is a Frank Gehry-designed building at headquarters in Menlo Park, California, which features projects by an international roster of artists. 

Andrea Myers 
Rainbowedbend, 2018. Site specific machine sewn textile collage. 
Facebook Chicago

Adam Friedman
2018. Facebook Seattle

OPP: How do you go about finding artists? 

JS: The FB AIR curatorial team regularly goes to art exhibitions, conducts studio visits, does online research, and considers recommendations from the Facebook community and past FB AIRs, among other methods. Instagram is a great digital tool for discovering new artists!

Tracey Snelling
A City Connected, 2018.
Facebook Menlo Park

OPP: I agree. And there are so many strategies for finding them. Do you have any strategies for discovering artists on Instagram? 

JS: Besides our FB AIR program official account, our global team of curators each have individual Instagram accounts where we often search for and follow artists that interest us, particularly in our respective regions. Sometimes we find new artists through the accounts of artists that we’ve worked with in the past; sometimes we learn about artists through nonprofit organizations, galleries, and other cultural institutions that we follow; sometimes we learn about artists and projects through the various publications we follow; and of course we are all part of a large global network of cultural producers who often post information and images that can lead us to all kinds of new discoveries.

Libby Barbee
Shapeshifters, 2018. 22'w x 12'h.
Facebook Denver

Stacia Yeapanis (me!)
This isn’t a problem to be solved; it’s an experience to be had. 2018. Dog waste bags, Sharpie ultra-fine pens on photocopies, hand-spun wool, cardstock. 40 feet long.
Facebook Chicago

Read the interviews with these Featured Artists:

Steven Vasquez Lopez
Yvette Kaiser-Smith (interview coming soon)
Andrea Myers
Adam Friedman
Tracey Snelling
Libby Barbee

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1419438 2019-06-12T11:44:52Z 2019-06-12T13:14:03Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Alexis Beucler

Woman in Stripes at the Beach, 2019. Oil, dye, canvas. 67 x 81"

ALEXIS BEUCLER (@liquidlandscape) investigates the landscape-figure relationship in paintings, soft sculpture and printmaking. The humans that populate her colorful, patterned landscapes float on inner tubes, frolic, fuck and lay about, seemingly carefree. But underneath the water, alligators lurk and decapitated heads decay. Alexis earned her BFA in Painting and Printmaking with a Minor in Art History at Florida State University. She has had two solo shows at Gallery E260 at the University of Iowa (Iowa City): Beyond the Mangroves (2019) and Razzle Dazzle Landscapes (2018). In 2019, she is an Artist-in-Residence for public art at the Grant Wood Art Colony in Iowa City. Alexis is currently pursuing her MFA in Painting and Drawing at University of Iowa, expected to graduate in 2020.

OtherPeoplesPixels: You’ve said in your artist statement that you “investigate a landscape-figure relationship.” How does the history of landscape painting inform your work?

Alexis Beucler: I’m drawn to the presence and absence of human figures within the history of landscape paintings. I am enamored by David Hockney’s patterned forestsEdvard Munch’s beachesJohn Dilg’s quiet trees, Mark Messermith’s bright, urgent, anxious landscapes. These spaces make me wonder, when can a campfire speak as loudly as a group gathering? When can a mark of paint emphasize collective feelings? How can animals and plants be placeholders for figures?

Swampland Bacchanal, 2018. Oil on canvas

OPP: What other visuals influence your work?

AB: Over the past year I’ve been reflecting on my time in the Floridian landscape—a landscape I’ve taken for granted for the past two decades—the native plants, swamps, waterways, festivals, island gatherings, quiet explorations.

Seeking to expand the lands in my painted world and in search of specificity of a space, I’ve started traveling to landscapes such as the New Mexico with sprinkled green plants dotting the desert land, blooming midwestern prairies, and I’m hoping to travel to Hawaii soon.

Afternoon Swim, 2018. Gouache on Paper. 20" x 28"

OPP: Do you think of the figures in your landscapes as in sync with their environments or oblivious to them?

AB: The landscape and environments subconsciously affect their motivations and actions. Likewise, the landscape absorbs the energy from actions the figures present, so the figure-landscape relationship is more symbiotic than anything.

In nighttime environments, there’s an increasing sense of urgency: people gather around fires, parties go too far. During the day, I think about the aftermath or residue of what occurred in the darkness, and wonder, do the figures exploring the day world know what happened the previous night? Are they floating down the river on an inner tube of bliss? How long have the mysterious heads at the bottom of the swamp been there, and does anyone other than the landscape remember them? As I explore this painted world, questions such as these are my guide.

Submerged Secrets, 2018. Gouache on Paper. 20" x 28"

OPP: Many paintings—Submerged Secrets (2018), Swamplandia: Journey With the Birdman (2018), and  Pink Alligator Roaming the Lands (2019), to name a few—reveal what is hidden beneath the surface of the water. Talk about your intent with this recurring compositional strategy.

AB: I’m interested in the above and below, how landscape shifts and becomes more fluid beneath the water’s surface, and how the underwater landscape is relatively untouched.

I grew up in Florida, where I visited the Weeki Wachee underwater theater quite often. We’d watch “mermaids” perform underwater dance routines and dramas. I remember when the water level was low, you could see hints of landscape above the water and the depths of the spring below, separated by the wavy line. I knew the mermaids were figures slipped into costumes, but I let my mind explore the fantastic possibility of seeing them and believing in them. Above the surface they are like me; below, they can be anything! That was my first real taste of magical realism. 

Beyond the Mangroves, 2019. Installation view. 

OPP: In your most recent exhibition, Beyond the Mangroves, you’ve now introduced references to home decor through the inclusion of a painted “blanket,” stuffed frames and a string of painted pennants. How do these additions change the context of the paintings?

AB: I’m increasingly intrigued by magical realism in fiction. For example, in Murakami’s IQ84, everything is seemingly mundane until a character looks up and realizes two moons occupy the sky. It’s so real, they wonder if the moons have always been there, if others notice them, or if they have transcended into a new space? This moment—one that identifies a subtle shift within our reality—is reflected within the physical objects from Beyond the Mangroves.

The red and white striped blanket and colorful pennants are recurring images within my paintings. Bringing them into the viewer’s physical space takes the viewer one step closer to the painted world. The blanket becomes an area the viewer needs to walk around, see through, and is invited to sit on and gaze at the paintings. 

Frames take on soft undulating forms that are repeated within the paintings— they reference fingers, arms, leaves, clouds, bottles. Soft and moldable. Gradients of color. They hug the picture and seep into our space.

Luncheon, 2018. Gouache on Paper. 20" x 28"

OPP: You are halfway through your graduate studies in Painting & Drawing at the University of Iowa. I know grad school is a whirlwind, so I wanted to give you an opportunity to reflect. How’s it going so far? How has your work changed in the first year of pursuing your MFA?

AB: It has been quite the whirlwind. Since I’ve been at UIowa I’ve started focusing more on landscape, patterns, personal mythology and magical realism. There’s an increasing nuance in color play and physical connection between figures and landscape.

Rocky Shore, 2018. Lithography Bleed Print. 15" x 22"

OPP: Before grad school, you made soft sculpture and also worked in printmaking. The lithographs on your website are just as detailed as your paintings, but eschew color in favor of pattern. But it seems that painting is your primary focus. How do you choose which medium to work in on a given day? 

AB: With painting, I’m able to delve deep into the world. Figures emerge, I trek into new lands, and through color everything flows together. With lithography, I generally already have an idea of what the image will be and use drawing as a tool to find ways of maximizing space with dense patterns. Recently I’ve been using this process to approach painting with fresh eyes and apply the detailed patterns from my print world into the painted one.

I can’t make soft sculptures until I have a clear grasp on where the paintings are taking me. I’ve spent the past two years reevaluating the landscape and figures through painting and have recently felt like I can once again pull some recurring elements out into our physical space through soft sculpture.

To see more of Alexis' work, please visit alexisbeucler.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006. Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan, 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis, 2017), Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018) and Kent State Stark (North Canton, 2019). Her work is included in the three-person show Manifestations, which opens on June 14, 2019 at One After 909 (Chicago).


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1414068 2019-05-28T14:34:23Z 2019-05-29T11:46:52Z Residency Deadlines in June

2 Upcoming Thematic Residencies at Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity (@banffcentre)

Location: Banff, Alberta: Canada, inside Banff National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage site
Housing: private bedrooms and shared bedrooms in shared house
Meals: provided
Fee: none
Application Fee: none
Financial aid: available, must apply

Banff residencies are for visual artists with an exhibition/publication record who have completed formal training in visual arts at the post-secondary level, or who have equivalent experience and recognition from their peers. Collaborative groups of no more that 2 are welcome to apply. The following programs are designed for participation over the entire period. Variable dates will not be considered. Residencies offer a structured program where visual artists, curators, and other arts professionals come together to create work and discuss pertinent themes. Through peer interaction, discussion groups, studio work, formal lectures, and studio visits from world-renowned visiting faculty, artists and curators, participants gain new ideas and insights that can be applied to creative exploration and professional development of their work.

Earthed

Residency dates: September 16 - October 18, 2019. 
Application Deadline: June 12, 2019

This program investigates the confluence of ethics and aesthetics in search of alternative structures to raise cultural and political awareness of urgent environmental issues. Led by artists Ackroyd & Harvey, whose work intersects art, activism, architecture, biology, ecology and history, this residency will also include engagements with local scientists, biologist, and ecologists.

Craft as Contemporary Art

Residency dates: November 04 - December 06, 2019.
Application Deadline: July 10, 2019

This program will explore what it means to create art using materials and processes associated with practices of craft. Contemporary art continues to make room for and popularize ceramics, textiles, hand-making, decoration and materiality. This program will investigate how these disciplines and approaches are being activated and consider the ideas craft is being asked to communicate. As we explore this area of practice, we will also discuss the histories and socio-political movements that inform the use of craft today and bring attention to historical distinctions between high/low, inside/outside, and art/craft that may no longer apply. The program will focus on the confluence of craft and contemporary art, and the intersection of these fields with topics of feminism, cultural identity, labour, materiality, object-centered theory, de/re-skilling, and activism.


New Orleans Artist Studio Residency at Joan Mitchell Center (@joanmitchellfdn)

Location: New Orleans, LA
Residency dates: five months in 2020 (4 artists, March-July; 4 artists, September-January)
Application Deadline: July 18, 2019
Application Fee: none
Housing: none, this is a studio-only residency
Meals: weekday communal dinners and an open shared food pantry 
Fee: none
Stipend: $600 a month

Eight selected artists will receive private studio space at the Center for five months in 2020. The residency program is complemented by a roster of events, including open studios, artist talks, and networking events, which foster creative exchange and encourage relationship-building among artists and other members of the New Orleans community. Artists have access to professional training and advisement, including studio visits with curators, and consultations and workshops with arts, business, and legal professionals. During a residency session at the Joan Mitchell Center, artist are expected to participate in regular dinners and our Center’s public programs. Eligibility and requirements: You must have lived in New Orleans as the primary residence for at least 5 years or be a New Orleans native. The Joan Mitchell Center recognizes Orleans Parish and Jefferson Parish to be included in the Greater New Orleans area.


Prairie Ronde Artist Residency (@prairierondeartistresidency)

Location: Vicksburg, Michigan, USA
Residency dates: October 1 to December 15th (for this deadline)
Application Deadline: June 15, 2019, also December 1 and March 1 for other sessions
Application Fee: none
Housing: private house/apartment/cabin
Meals: none
Fee: none
Stipend: $2,000 for 4 – 7 weeks, a $500 travel grant, and private use of a car

The Prairie Ronde Artist Residency is located in historic Vicksburg, Michigan, near Kalamazoo. The residency provides access to the 420,000 square foot former Lee Paper Company paper mill and its adjacent 80 acres of property to use as inspiration. Artists are also encouraged to utilize our close ties to members of the village community and the area’s creative community.

The Prairie Ronde Residency is looking for individuals who are highly independent, engaged and curious. We do not limit our residency to any specific medium but, rather, are looking for people who can creatively interact with the space we have to offer and the community of historic Vicksburg. Artists are asked to contribute at least one piece of art to the Residency’s permanent collection and to participate in some sort of community give back activity. These can be of the artist’s design and range from open studio work to teaching or an opening.


DENBO FELLOWSHIP at Pyramid Atlantic Art Center (@pyramidatlantic)

Location: Hyattsville, MD
Fellowship dates: October 2019, minimum 2 weeks, maximum 1 month
Application deadline: June 9, 2019 for Fall 2019 Fellowships
​Fellowship Length: Minimum 2 weeks, maximum 1 month
Application Fee: $25
Housing: none, studio only
Meals: none
Fee: none
Stipend: $250 two weeks, $350 three weeks, or $500 one month

Pyramid Atlantic is a nonprofit contemporary art center fostering the creative disciplines of papermaking, printmaking, and book arts within a collaborative community. We equip, educate, and exhibit in our historic Hyattsville home.

Two Fellowships will be awarded in October, 2019. This Fellowship is designed to offer artists, from a range of artistic disciplines, an environment conducive to individual and collaborative creative practice, and provides a unique opportunity to complete a new body of work at Pyramid Atlantic Art Center.

Selected artists will receive: Up to one month of access to the printshop, type shop, paper studio and/or bindery, key to studios and 24-hour access, 10 hours of one-on-one technical assistance, storage space and flat file for tools and materials, use of standard shop supplies.

Each applicant will be judged on the artistic merit of his/her work, interest and potential in printmaking, paper arts and book arts (or a combination thereof), as well as the quality and clarity of his/her plan for the residency. Although previous experience in a Pyramid Atlantic discipline may be helpful to a successful applicant, such experience is not necessary or expected. Artists are also asked to give an artist talk during their residency.


Light Work | Artist-in-Residence (AIR) Program for Photographers (@lightworkorg)

Location: Syracuse, NY
Residency dates: month-long residencies throughout 2020
Application Deadline: July 1, 2019
Application Fee: $10
Housing: private bedroom in a two-bedroom artist apartment just blocks away from our facility
Meals: Residents are responsible for buying or making their own meals. The artist apartment includes a fully-furnished kitchen for cooking and a fridge for groceries.
Fee: none
Stipend: $5000

Each year Light Work invites 12-15 artists to participate in its residency program, including one artist co-sponsored by Autograph ABP and one artist commission for Urban Video Project (UVP). Artists selected for the residency program are invited to live in Syracuse for one month. They receive a $5,000 stipend, an apartment to stay in, a private digital studio, a private darkroom, and 24-hour access to our facility.

Participants in the residency program are expected to use their month to pursue their own projects: photographing in the area, scanning or printing for a specific project or book, and so on. Artists are not obligated to lecture at our facility, though we hope that the artists are friendly and accessible to local artists and students. Work by each Artist-in-Residence becomes a part of the Light Work Collection and is published in a special edition of Contact Sheet: The Light Work Annual along with an essay commissioned by Light Work.

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1409214 2019-05-15T12:22:29Z 2019-05-24T03:56:31Z Going Strong for 7 Years: Libby Barbee

Did you know the OPP blog has been featuring exceptional, living artists since 2011? We are committed to looking at the full trajectory of each Featured Artist's work, as represented on their websites. As an artist myself, I don't think of individual artworks or projects in a vacuum. I'm more interested in how one work leads to another and what drives artists to keep making. So it's exciting to revisit artists interviewed in the first few years of the blog and find out what's changed and what's stayed the same in their practices. Today's artist is Libby Barbee (@libby.barbee).

The Commutation of Distances, 2018. Print on panel. 24" w x 66"-72" h

OtherPeoplesPixels: What's new in your studio, practice or work since you were interviewed back in 2012?

Libby Barbee: Wow! So much is new—and yet, nothing at all. I am still creating work that is broadly centered around the relationship between nature and culture, and often specifically focused on American frontier myth. However, though the themes I’m investigating have stayed the same, my approach to making artwork has changed a lot. Back in 2012, I was doing studio work full-time and most of what I was making was very time intensive. A large part of my practice was focused on intricate collages that took me months in the studio to complete.

The World Finally Gives Way, 2016. Cut paper and collage. 36"h x 48"w

Since then, I have had two babies and a very full second career. Making art is non-negotiable, so my practice has had to adapt and become more flexible. These days, I work a lot faster and in a much more focused manner. I do a lot of work from my computer, which frees me to work a little more nomadically. I have been working with digital prints that I can compose wherever I am, whether that is at the kitchen table while my children are napping or between classes at the University where I am teaching.

Astral America, 2016. Installation (digital prints mounted on plywood, sand, cacti, backpacking gear)

I have been surprised to find that though I have a lot less time to spend in the studio, I have been much more productive and have had a ton of cool opportunities come my way. The last year especially was a whirlwind of art-making. I collaborated with fellow Denver artist Bill Nelson to complete a participatory art piece titled The Sound Mirror Project. The project was really different than anything that I had done before and has left me wanting to do more participatory work.

MLRA 69: Upper Arkansas Valley Rolling Plains, 2018. Cut paper and ink.120"h x 36" w

Over the spring and summer, I worked on a piece commissioned by the Gates Family Foundation that used cut paper and prints to visualize data about the effects of agriculture and grazing on soil ecology. In the process, I was able to spend time working with a USDA Natural Resource Conservation Service Rangeland Specialist, from whom I learned so much about sustainable grazing and agriculture. I am convinced that the sciences urgently need artists to make environmental knowledge understandable and compelling, and to help propel movement towards sustainability. I hope to have more opportunities to work with scientists and ecologists in the near future.

Shapeshifters, 2018. Installation. 22'w x 12'h

I also had the opportunity in the fall to do a large installation at Facebook’s corporate offices in downtown Denver as part of the FB AIR (Facebook Artist in Residence) Program. The piece was installed the same week that my son was born, so things got a little nutty, but it was a really cool project and resulted in work that I am very proud of.

Taming This Most Unruly Nature, 2018. Print on panel. 2' x 2', 3' x 3', and 4' x 4' panels.

In addition to my studio practice, I have the amazing fortune to be able to work with artists in other aspects of my work life. In one corner of my life, I manage grant programs for artists at RedLine Contemporary Art Center in Denver. The Arts in Society program that I run provides $500,000 per year to support cross-sector work in the arts in CO. I have been endlessly inspired by artists who are using their art to make impacts in areas such as health, science and community welfare. In another corner of my life, I teach studio classes at local universities. I love working with young artists, and students are constantly giving me new ideas and fueling my curiosity. 

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1404037 2019-05-01T14:38:19Z 2019-05-02T21:36:06Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Kate Sweeney

Trans Loose Cyphers: Welcome to My Worlds, 2018. Detail of installation for Facebook Seattle. Photo credit: Candace Fields

KATE SWEENEY's installations, paintings and prints are static works inspired by the motion of the physical universe. Her colorful, layered works visualize wave forms at microscopic, human and cosmic scales. Fittingly, she avoids the restrictive edge of the rectangle whenever possible in favor of irregular, organic edges that meet the surrounding space with openness. Kate earned a BFA in Fine Arts & Medical Sciences and a MFA in Medical and Biological Illustration, both from the University of Michigan. She has completed numerous public art commissions, including installations at Facebook Seattle (2018), Redmond Technology Center Transit Station (2017), Overlake Hospital Cancer Care Center (2017) and Harborview Medical Center (2015).Recently, her work was included in Digital Maneuvers (2018) at the Seattle Art Museum and Playlist! (2019) at Museo Gallery in Langley, Washington. Kate lives and works in Seattle, Washington.

OtherPeoplesPixels: Tell us how your background in medical illustration informs the work you make now.

Kate Seeney: My artwork has always been fueled by my love of the natural world, and by extension, science. Both my interest in medical scientific illustration work and my painting practice spring from that love.

For the past several years I have been designing illustrations for complex environmental disaster remediation projects as a part of my scientific illustration career, and I’ve grown increasingly sad about what we have done to the planet. In my fine art practice my focus has now shifted to the macro natural world, as I have been thinking about the possible death of Nature. 

Meadow, 2019. cut paper. 42" by 76"

OPP: Tell us about The Meadow.

KS: The Meadow is an elegy. It reimagines the delicate beauty of the deep structure of Nature. The large collages in this project reflect my awe of Nature and my fond but fading hopes that She will recover after humans have either disappeared or revolutionized our relationship to energy consumption. 

I’ve designed the shapes used in The Meadow to fit together in a rough approximation of Penrose tiles, which are mathematically derived patterns using a limited vocabulary of interlocking shapes to cover a plane in a self-similar but non-repeating way. I created a set of loose-edged tiling shapes and then rearranged them into unique forms. This process happens in the real world, where a starting fractal equation/engine unwinds amid specific and singular conditions on the ground, which influences the expression of the underlying structural order. I consider this an excellent analogy to the natural world and the forms of life, both familiar and yet unique. 

Drops, 2019. cut paper. 24" x 30"

OPP: You’ve said “I don’t think in rectangles, but shapes.” Can you talk about the excitement of the edge?

KS: I just have never been content jamming my ideas inside a rectangle. I think form and flow are more naturally explored using a free edge. More sculptural I guess. But coming at my work from a 2D approach has challenged me to find a way to create outside that box, and while still addressing the practical aspects of presentation and display. 

I also think a lot about the scale of my work, and that too is a sculptural consideration in a way. How a piece relates to the size of the human body is very important. Ideally, I want my work to be a thing itself, not a depiction of something.

Clear Sailing, 2015. mixed on panel. 5' x 3'

OPP: Many of your works look abstract, but are inspired by “scientific theories of energy, waves, strings, and quanta,” etc. Do you think of your work in terms of abstraction or representation?

KS: I think my work is highly representational! I realize the viewer will see the patterns and colors as abstract, but I hope the structure speaks to a deep, unconscious, human appreciation of order, and reflects the mathematically derived forms that I believe underlie the creation of everything we can see. It’s all ratios and waves out there people!!!

I have, in the past, used the foundational concepts of quantum physics and theoretical physics as a jumping-off point for my seemingly abstract images. Spooky Action at Distance, particle wave duality, The Big Bang, multiverses and gravity waves are theories I have used to create color pattern fields that express my thoughts about what the world looks like at the smallest and largest scales.

Most recently, I’ve been using wave forms in a series of panels to explore water motion as a reflection of the fundamental oscillating forms of reality, a longstanding theme for me.

Gravity Waves: the unseen dark matter mass of systems can pull them apart and impact the entire universe. 2016. Acrylic on paper collage, with digital print, monoprint, braille print and transfer print. 44" x 80"

OPP: You’ve done numerous installations for offices and medical centers. First off, the practical. . . how do you go about getting commissions?

KS: My website and social media have been powerful avenues to commissions. I also pay attention to the calls for art proposals put out by various funding agencies, most notably in Seattle where we have numerous ‘1% for art’ programs.

Current/ Potential, 2012. Installation for Seattle City Light's North Service Center. 35' x 8.' Photo credit: Spike Mafford

OPP: Tell us about making art for a specific site? Do you think more about audience or space?

KS: When commissioned to do an installation in a space, one thinks about both the audience and the space itself. I typically start with thinking about the audience and the compelling core narrative I want to offer them. Then I look at the location and see how I can use it to deliver on my idea. The space becomes a powerful shaper of the narrative at that point.  

For my Harborview Medical Center commission, I thought about the journey that the patient and the families would be making though their hospital stay, a very challenging time in their lives. I imagined the hallway  where my piece would reside as a journey for them, a place of refuge, and also a transitional zone between treatment and recovery. I created an abstract forest transforming through the seasons, a narrative path that could bring serenity, like a walk through the woods. 

Willows over Water, 2017. Installation for reception area room, Cancer Care Center, Overlake Hospital. Paint and paper collage on wood elements. 3' x 9'

OPP: It looks like you are in the middle of creating a new installation from aluminum pipe for the Redmond Technology Center Transit Station in Washington. Tell us about your design and how the process is going.

KS: Yes, I am in the midst of a project for the transit center concourse ceiling out in Redmond, the technology capitol of the world--- well almost…

My premise for the piece is ‘Journey’, which speaks to the immigrant experience of many of the commuters who will be transiting through this station, and also to the self-similar but non-identical nature of commutes. ‘Same train, different day’ equals a brand new experience. To reflect this, I am using a simple form of a fractal, the Apollonian Gasket generator, which is one that utilizes perfect circles to create a nesting pattern that is unique each time, based on the starting input numbers and the constraints of the system that powers it. 

I worked up the design on the computer using 2D and 3D software, with the help of my 3D designer Ben Henry, who also was able to bring the design into a full scale architectural model of the station. This allowed me to see it in a VR walk-through, which is just so powerful for making design decisions and getting a great feel for what a massive structure looks like, full scale.

Right now we have entered the fabrication stage, which is being executed by the talented people at Fabrication Specialties here in Seattle. The structure will be made of painted aluminum rings and discs, and suspended over the busway for about 300 linear feet, the length of the transit area. I am excited to see this huge project come to life, and I look forward to having it installed by the end of this year. 

To see more of Kate's work, please visit katesweeneyfineart.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006 Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago.  Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), the Annex Gallery at Lillstreet Art Center (Chicago 2014), The Stolbun Collection (Chicago 2017) and Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis 2017) and Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018). During summer 2018, Stacia created  Renunciation Reliquary as a one-night installation for Chicago Artist Coalition's annual benefit Work in Progress and was an Artist-in-Residence at Facebook. Her solo show Practice is on view at Kent State Stark through May 4, 2019.


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1398893 2019-04-17T14:40:05Z 2019-04-17T14:48:20Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Sarah K. Williams

Mid-Sized Creatures: a 3-act sculptural performance for 3 performers and cello. 2017. 
Performers: Annelyse Gelman, Thalia Beaty, Ashley Williams, and Sarah Williams. Cello: Clare Monfredo. Text: Ashley Williams 

SARAH K. WILLIAMS' background is in painting and sculpture, but "perfectly still objects make [her] restless." She creates scores for sculptural performances, both performing herself and directing others. These hard-to-classify works linger in between theater, performance art and sculpture. Sarah earned her BA in Fine Arts / Art History at The College of William and Mary and her MFA in Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She was a 2017 Fulbright Fellow at Universität der Künste, Institute for New Music in Berlin. She is the founder of the Sprechgesang Institute, a "research-based platform for artists working in an in-between language of two or more disciplines." She is a 2019 Target Margin Theater Institute Fellow and has been an Artist-in-Residence at Vermont studio Center, Studios at MASS MoCA, Theater Magdeburg and Oxbow. Sarah lives and works in Brooklyn, New York.

OtherPeoplesPixels: As you say in your artists statement, you “made still objects once: out of clay and plaster, wire and wood.” Let’s talk about those sculptures first. Works like Sugar Temple (2013), Act I, Scene I (2015) and Over Saturated (2015) have a sense of action in them even though they are static. It’s not they that seem like they would move, but rather that they are sites where some human ritual might be performed. How do you think about ritual, in the world and in your practice? 

Sarah K. Williams: Yes, ritual is an interesting word and not one I often use with my current work, but I can certainly see the relationship with the works you’ve mentioned. I gravitate towards symmetry, repetition, precision, memorized gestures—which I guess are all present within ritualistic activity. But ritual connotes a sense of spirituality, which I have trouble relating to. Certainly I was thinking of sites for human activity—that the piece could potentially be moved or interacted with, though I hadn’t given myself permission to work that way yet. A bit related maybe, “otherworldly” was a word that was tossed around a lot with these works, which bothered me. I’ve become much more interested in the mundane, and finding absurdity within banal activities. 

Error Fishing, 2014. Plaster, polystyrene, expandable foam, clay, tinted water, wire, hook, acrylic and watercolor paint, powdered graphite. 60" x 48" x 36"

OPP: It sounds like stillness of those sculptures was a problem?

SKW: Those pieces are on the cusp of movement. I was feeling very restless with their stillness, even though, as you mention, there is a suggestion of activity. I think we sometimes restrict ourselves too much with titles, too aware of our chosen medium or discipline. At the time, I was too aware of being a Sculptor and frustrated that sculptors make things which sit in space and should be walked around and looked at. Obviously this isn’t helpful, and it meant I was irritated the minute I walked into the studio with all these unmoving things. There was a huge disconnect because my main source of inspiration was music and theater, yet I was trying to squish it into a very small box, under the umbrella of sculpture.

Sample Objects (and their potential movements), 2018

OPP: What is a “sculptural performance?” Is this a term you coined or are you part of a lineage of other artists? 

SKW: I started using the term ‘sculptural performance’ only because it seemed like the most logical and straight-forward way to describe my work. I would describe it as performative work involving a set of invented objects within a specific aesthetic framework. Within this work, I’ve started referring to my sculptures as objects. To me, an object has a functionality to it which a sculpture doesn’t have. I want these objects to exist with a purpose, to be assigned specific characteristics and abilities. 

I wasn’t so aware of this combination of composed sound and movement with strong visual elements until spending time in Berlin. The work which I found the strongest connection to there was in the genre of MusiktheaterI didn’t even know this was a genre! Very different from what we know as Musical Theater in the U.S., these pieces weren’t compelled to follow a narrative, were often very short, experimental, abstract, absurd. To generalize, most pieces seemed to enter a visual world through music composition, while I was the other way around. Exposure to artists like Heiner GoebblesDieter Schnebel, and Mauricio Kagel made a huge impression on me. 

Absorbent Objects: for one performer and 3 objects, 2017.

OPP: You often use the language of music and theater to talk about interacting with the objects you make. There’s the Orchestra of Obsessions and Dissatisfactions (2018) and The Found Sound Research Orchestra (2017). You also create “scores” for objects. Many performances are divided into Acts. Can you talk about this merging of the performing arts with the visual arts? Does this hybridity change the venues where you share your work?

SKW: When I first moved to NYC after grad school, I was completely uninterested in looking at sculpture or painting. I knew I should be going to galleries, openings, things we’re told are necessary as emerging artists, but all I wanted to do was go to the opera. I never had a relationship with opera until my last semester in grad school when I heard Wozzek for the first time and became completely obsessed. I basically spend two solid years learning everything I could about opera. I started working for a couple of small opera companies in NY, and spent hours in the performing arts library looking at scores as drawings, as recipes, as instructions for something that could be tangible. 

There is so much great overlapping vocabulary with sound and visual: vocal color, textures in music, light and dark, hard and soft, etc. I started writing ‘scores’ for sculptures as accompanying documents which might describe how an object moves through the world. In Berlin, I began really leaning into this overlap, which is where the orchestra pieces came from. I became interested in borrowing structural frameworks from other disciplines, approaching them with my own skill sets. How can I work within the conventions of classical music, but through the lens of what I know: material, process, color, form? As I’ve been working this way, I have become less interested in traditional gallery spaces, and more attracted to hybrid spaces, collaborative venues, non-art spaces, offices perhaps. . . 

Orchestra of Obsessions and Dissatisfactions, 2018. 8 minute performance for 9 performers and 11 objects.Ffilmed at The Studios Residency at MASS MoCA. 
Performed by: Kesso Saulnier, Max Colby, Hui-Ying Tsai, David Greenwood, Hyun Jung Ahn, Paolo Arao, Jon Verney, Ashley Strazzinski, and Ashley Williams

OPP: Can you talk about the difference between performing your own work and being a director? 

SKW: I’m much more interested in directing/conducting/writing than performing. I only end up performing by default, and it’s not a comfortable role for me. However, I have to learn about a piece by doing it myself, and then sometimes it’s easier just to execute it without needing to articulate it to someone else. When I do have the opportunity to work with “performers.” I put this is quotes, because I typically work with artists who have a relationship to the types of activities the piece focuses on rather than someone with a performance background and preconceptions about what it means to perform. I often make a track with audio commands as a sort of script. Practically, this is useful because the actions don’t have to be memorized, but I’ve also been playing around with letting the audio track become a more present component to the pieces. I’ve been going to a lot of plays recently which has brought up a lot of opinions about performing versus acting. As I’ve only performed with non-performers, it makes me wonder what would happen if I immersed myself more into a theater environment. 

Fried Book of Conjugated Concerns with Sprig of Thyme: for one muttering performer with multiple concerns. 2017.

OPP: You are the founder and director of Sprechgesang Institute. Tell us about the formation of the Institute.

SKW: The first iteration of Sprechgesang Institute began in Berlin when I was doing a Fulbright there in 2016/17. As I mentioned, I was studying the overlap of opera and sculpture. I enrolled in an experimental music composition department. Between being surrounded almost exclusively by musicians/ composers at the university and my fellow Berlin Fulbrighters in Germany—very few of whom where artists—it became clear to me how refreshing and enormously valuable it was to be outside of a strict Fine Arts community. The foundation of S.I. is made up of people I met while in Germany, paired with people I know here in New York, and a few artists working long-distance. Currently we are a mixture of sculptors, painters, musicians, writers, composers, scientists, journalists, cooks—all interested in finding overlaps within our lines of work. We meet once a month over an elaborate dinner, mostly constructed of tiny sculptural snacks, we staple a lot of things, file things, take roll—it’s all very institutional. 

OPP: What’s the latest project? 

SKW: Our current project is an experimental dining event. Each Artist of the Institute is making a dish—some edible, some not—to be choreographed into a 10-course progression for two performances in mid July. We’re also putting together an accompanying cookbook full of overly-complicated recipes. 

S.I. dinner #1, 2017.

OPP: Aside from Sprechgesang Institute, what’s next for you? Any new projects in the works? 

SKW: I am still digesting a few projects I started while at Vermont Studio Center last month. I’m working on a series of short performances with objects under the theme Critical Response, structured a bit like a concept album. I collaborated with some artists there on a couple of these pieces and they continue to evolve. I’d like to get them to a point where they can be performed back-to-back in quick succession. 

I’m also a fellow at Target Margin Theater this year, which has been a great outlet for exploring the more performative side of my practice. For this, I have an ongoing investigation of gesture and other alternative methods of communication not reliant on text or object. It’s so hard for me to ignore the visual side of things, but such a worthwhile challenge! 

I also have an ongoing project called Aesthetically Complex Pies. It’s exactly what it sounds like. 

To see more of Sarah's work, please visit sarahkwilliams.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006 Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago.  Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), the Annex Gallery at Lillstreet Art Center (Chicago 2014), The Stolbun Collection (Chicago 2017) and Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis 2017) and Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018). During summer 2018, Stacia created  Renunciation Reliquary as a one-night installation for Chicago Artist Coalition's annual benefit Work in Progress and was an Artist-in-Residence at Facebook. Her solo show Practice is on view at Kent State Stark through May 4, 2019.

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1390876 2019-03-27T22:21:48Z 2019-03-27T22:27:45Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Sarah Beth Woods

Esther and Anonymous, 2015. Hair weave, shoe laces, aluminum. 64" x 30" x 7."

SARAH BETH WOODS employs a range of artistic methods, including sculpture, film and relational aesthetics in her research-based practice. Her sculptural objects and events celebrate the material aspects of feminine adornment—hair braiding, nails and jewelry—and their corollary social spaces. Her formative years on the Southwest side of Chicago influence her ongoing engagement with black, female aesthetics in particular. Sarah earned a BFA at Northern Illinois University and an MFA at the University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign. Her solo exhibitions include Braid & Nails (2015) at Wheaton College and Bricoleur at Azimuth Projects (Chicago, 2014). Sarah collaborated with hair braider Fatima Traore for BRAID/WORK, and they were the recipients of the 2015/2016 Crossing Boundaries PrizeEsther and Anonymous is currently on view in Focus: Fiber 2019 at Kent State University Museum in Ohio through July 28, 2019. BRAID/WORK will be part of a symposium and solo show at Bethel College (Mishawaka, Indiana) in November of 2019. The conceptual girl group The Rhinettes will perform at Experience Threewalls at 15 on June 5th, 2019. Sarah lives and works in Chicago.

OtherPeoplesPixels: Can you talk about the relationship between objects and events in your practice? How do you balance these modes of making?

Sarah Beth Woods: The majority of my training is as a studio artist. In terms of my process, that always comes first and starts with a specific material. I think of my public events as collective performances. They are an important part of the evolution of the work rather than a means to an end. Recently, events have taken the form of musical performances and collective braiding sessions.  I’m interested in the act of braiding and the labor associated with the hand work as a common denominator or language shared by different communities. These events provide pragmatic ways to engage a specific audience while collectively thinking through materials. During Shared Language, curated by Tempestt Hazel at the Arts Incubator, Fatima Traore and I were able to braid and exchange stories with women from the Academy of Beauty and Culture, a beauty school on the West side of Chicago.

What does it feel like for a girl?, 2012. Bath poufs, hair weave, ribbon, felt, clamp lights, lightbulbs, steel. 14" x 10" x 58."

OPP: What does performance mean to you—both as an art form and in terms of our various identities?

SBW: For me, performance has everything to do with process and improvisation. We all perform specific parts of our identities on a daily basis. It’s a performance because it’s not innate; it’s learned and then acted out. During the research phase of my recent 16mm reversal film Hear the Glow of Electric Lights, I became really interested in female body comportment, specifically Maxine Powell’s finishing school at Motown and the methods she employed to train the Supremes to be “lady-like.” Powell spent a lot of time training the women how to get in and out of a car gracefully, with poise and posture. This was a strategic marketing ploy that has everything to do with class and respectability politics. I’m interested in the ways these ideas are inscribed on to the body through repetition and performance. Similar to content in BRAID/WORK, there was a lot of behind-the-scenes labor that went into this process.

Kayla, 2015. acrylic nails, pom-poms, googley eyes, glitter, confetti.

OPP: Tell us about your work with Fatima Traore. How did you two first meet and start working together?

SBW: Fatima Traore and I met when she was braiding hair during the Mappy Hair Project at the Gray Center for the Arts in 2013. We started braiding together informally. On some occasions, I would paint nails while she braided. We did pop-up salons for Prime Time at the MCA, the South Side Community Art Center and the 75th Anniversary Block Party at Hyde Park Art Center. We also did work together with Tracer’s Book Club, a group of international, intersectional feminist artists founded by Chicago-based filmmaker Jennifer Reeder.

BRAID/WORK, 2016. In collaboration with Fatima Traore.

OPP: Together, you were the recipients of the 2015/2016 Crossing Boundaries Prize awarded by Arts+Public Life & the Center for the Study of Race, Politics and Culture at the University of Chicago. What did this prize fund? 

SBW: The Crossing Boundaries Prize allowed Fatima Traore and I to complete BRAID/WORK, a collaboration that investigates the history and aesthetics of African hair braiding through a material and performative lens. We braided hair at Art on Sedgwick, a community art center located in the Marshall Fields garden apartments in Chicago's Old Town neighborhood and The Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago. There was a culminating reception and catalogue release at the Arts Incubator. The material components of this project—my hair sculptures and staged photographs of a fictional work space featuring Fatima braiding—were included in a show under the same name at Rootwork Gallery in 2016. The photographs were taken by Cecil McDonald, Jr.

DBL RAINBOW SWEET TWIST, 2016. Hair weave, foam, photo collage, comb, door knocker earrings, chain. 10" x 50" x 9."

OPP: What effect did this collaboration have on the work you make alone?

SBW: The experience taught me a lot about the ins and outs of collaborative risk taking, as well as potential ways to utilize institutional critique to investigate cultural paradigms embedded in the ways we look, think and critique. I’m currently reading Reversed Gaze: An African Ethnography of American Anthropology by Mwenda Ntarangwi, who examines his own lived experience as an African scholar studying anthropology in America with a focus on representation and self-reflexivity. I’m at a pivotal point with my sculptural work where I’m asking and requiring more from objects beyond their immediate purpose, especially the potential for characters or activations within narrative film.

OPP: In 2016, Mailee Hung wrote for Daily Serving about BRAID/WORK :“Woods is a white woman who spent her formative years in a primarily Black, middle-class neighborhood of Chicago, and she is highly cognizant of the dangers of appropriation her privilege affords.” How do you handle these dangers while working with “black material culture” as a white woman?

SBW: Fashion and hair style have never been static or fixed things. Style is always in the act of being appropriated, modified, or morphing into something else. Artifice brings these ideas to the surface, because it pronounces itself as artifice. It probes at the boundaries that spring up around markers of identity. I’m much more interested in creolization which actively moves against fixed identities and towards cross cultural, transcultural and hybrid forms.

The Rhinettes

OPP: Most recently, you’ve been investigating the aesthetics of the performances of 1960s girl groups. Who are The Rhinettes and how are they a “conceptual girl group,” as opposed to a girl group?

SBW: My interest in artifice and the performing body, as well as black and white cross-over appeal led me to the Supremes’ first performance of “Come See About Me” choreographed by Cholly Atkins on the Shindig television show in 1964. I’m really interested in early girl groups and their first televised appearances, as well as the technological spaces that they occupy. Politically, sonically and visually, it was an important and complex moment in American history. In 2017, I formed what I refer to as a “conceptual girl group” with Anya Jenkins, Alexis Strowder, and Yahkirah Beard, who is a professional dancer. She’s appeared on the television show Empire several times; her energy is incredible! We’re like a conceptual cover band—we don’t record or play instruments, and we only cover one Supremes' song. 

Hear the Glow of Electric Lights.16mm reversal film. 2017

OPP: How do viewers/listeners encounter The Rhinettes?

SBW: We’ve performed at Silent Funny, a mixed-use arts space on the far West side and the Jane Addams Hull House Museum during a series called Making the West Side, which aired on Can TV. The material component of the project is Hear the Glow of Electric Lights, a research-based, 16mm reversal film that I've been working on for several years. The content of the work is revealed through concealment, codes and learned body language, drawing attention to what we’ve been taught cannot simultaneously exist: beauty, power and the political. Pop culture scholar Jaap Kooijman articulated it well: “the power of the image, and in extension the Diana Ross star image, lies in its embodiment of the contradiction between fashion and politics, and its refusal to accept that those two cannot go together.” The remainder of the project is being shot and edited through 2019.

To see more of Sarah Beth's work, please visit sarahbethwoods.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006 Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago.  Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), the Annex Gallery at Lillstreet Art Center (Chicago 2014), The Stolbun Collection (Chicago 2017) and Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis 2017) and Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018). During summer 2018, Stacia created  Renunciation Reliquary as a one-night installation for Chicago Artist Coalition's annual benefit Work in Progress and was an Artist-in-Residence at Facebook. She is currently preparing for a solo show titled Practice, which will open in April 2019 at Kent State Stark.


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1385264 2019-03-13T17:32:50Z 2019-03-13T17:32:50Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Laura Mosquera

Left to right: This Weight I Feel Is Yours; Grasp, Clench, Slip; To Begin With Control; The Sounds Between and Through.2018

LAURA MOSQUERA uses difficult human emotions as the impetus for her abstract paintings. The resulting works are collisions of color, shape and pattern. Her shaped canvases give the impression of patterns in motion. They are like bodies attempting to invade or escape one another. Laura received her BFA and her MFA from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Her most recent solo exhibition was Close to the Bone and Skin (2018) at Rosefsky Gallery (Binghamton University, New York). Eight billboards of her paintings are permanently exhibited at the Chicago Avenue Red Line station in Chicago. Recent group shows included  Onyx at Alfa gallery (Miami) and ESCAPE/ISM? at Atlantic gallery (New York). Her work is currently included in Ineffable Manifestations at the Institute of Sacred Music (Yale University) through June 18, 2019. Laura lives and works in Brooklyn, New York.

OtherPeoplesPixels: It seems like you began as a figurative painter and shifted completely into geometric abstraction in the last few years. Is that true? Tell us a bit about your interests in the early figurative work?

Laura Mosquera: I began painting figuratively as it was the most identifiable and direct way to work out my ideas. At the time, it provided the most authentic process for me to capture fleeting moments of experience within a non-linear narrative. In these figurative pieces, I used abstracted environments to describe a shared psychological space to support the emotional content of the work. It has been nine years since the space itself became the sole focus. With figures removed, abstract forms and the space and shapes they create have become paramount in capturing the psychology of singular moments of fleeting emotion.

Somewhere In Between, 2010. Oil and acrylic on linen. 56" x 48"

OPP: Tell us about the shift away from representation into abstraction. Was there one body of work or painting that was the first completely abstract work? 

LM: During the years I worked figuratively, the process of making those paintings was always very clear to me. In time, I started to lose the clarity of my initial intent, and I began questioning why I was making the work. As seen in my earliest paintings, abstraction has always been a central element of my visual vocabulary. However, with getting older, the complexities of life are compounding and abstraction has become the most direct approach to speak to those unnameable concerns of daily life. It continues to be an evolving process.

Around the Edges, 2017. acrylic, flashe and gouache on panel. 18" x 24"

OPP: I think a lot about collage when looking at the work from InterplayEquations and Close to the Bone and Skin. Has collage ever been part of your process? What about sketching?

LM: Sketching has been part of my thought process since childhood, whereas I didn’t start utilizing collage until graduate school. I used both to construct the compositions of my earlier figurative paintings. 

When I moved to abstraction, the traditional method of using collage fell away and drawing and sketching became paramount. Still, my current works are constructed in stages, very much like a collage, except with paint. 

In this last year, traditional collage has been making its way back into the work. I’ve kept scraps of printed paper for years, some for almost twenty, and I am just now incorporating them into the paintings. 

The Space Between, 2019. Acrylic and gouache on panel. 10" x 8"

OPP: Pattern seems to be a metaphor. Can you talk about the relationship between conflict and harmony in Close to the Bone and Skin (2018)? 

LM: In my works, color, pattern and texture in addition to size and form all define shapes in relationship to each other. These relationships are what constitute the entire work. Every choice embodies emotion, ideas and memories. Sometimes these shapes work and flow together and sometimes they don’t. When a shape with saturated color and a tight pattern is placed next to another with a wash and a looser texture, it creates a relationship or narrative. I'm interested in those elements working together to become a cohesive whole, but not in an obvious way. I am most drawn to moments of visual tension or when things don't quite make sense, finding these complex relationships engaging as they parallel the real world.

Not Enough To Stay, 2018. Acrylic, flashe and gouache on canvas. 48 1/2" x 60"

OPP: Curves are very rare in your paintings. Can you talk about the dominance of sharp, angular lines? 

LM: When I removed the figure from my paintings, I was living in Savannah, Georgia and curves remained very much part of my work. Sharp and angular lines became dominant after moving back to an urban environment, and they are indicative of the New York architecture I used as inspiration. In the current body of work, these elements are incorporated as metaphors for rigidity and obsessiveness.

Something More Than Free, 2016. acrylic, flashe and gouache on canvas. 79-1/4" x 88-3/4" x 22"

OPP: The shaped canvases are so good! What led you to break out of the rectangle? How is the process for creating works like Not Enough To Stay (2018), Something More Than Free (2016), and Grab and Hold (2017) different from painting a conventional rectangle?

LM: Thank you very much! Working with a rectangle the creative process starts for me once the canvas is properly stretched and gessoed. With the shaped canvases, the creativity starts at the moment of construction since the shape of the work is also a carrier of the content.

While I was making the rectangular paintings, I realized there was an opportunity to have the content of the work inform the shape of the frame, further describing the nature of each painting. 

In my current work, I use the physical shape of the canvas to depict a psychological state or emotional effect. The relationships of the shapes within the painting are dynamic and can push, pierce and rest against each other, defining themselves and how they relate to one another communicating experience.

To see more of Laura's work, please visit lauramosquera.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006 Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago.  Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), the Annex Gallery at Lillstreet Art Center (Chicago 2014), The Stolbun Collection (Chicago 2017) and Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis 2017) and Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018). During summer 2018, Stacia created  Renunciation Reliquary as a one-night installation for Chicago Artist Coalition's annual benefit Work in Progress and was an Artist-in-Residence at Facebook. She is currently preparing for a solo show titled Practice, which will open in April 2019 at Kent State Stark.


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1379132 2019-02-27T14:30:02Z 2019-02-27T14:30:02Z Lotsa March Deadlines!!!!

We've highlighted them before, but in case you forgot, March is a hot month for applying to Artist Residencies. So many to choose from. If you don't have summer plans, it's time to apply for time in the studio.

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Due March 1

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Kimmel Harding Nelson Center for the Arts — Nebraska City, Nebraska

Deadline: March 1
Application Fee: $35
Length: 2-8 weeks, July 1 - December 20, 2019
Stipend: $100 a week
Food: none, but apartments have kitchens

The Kimmel Harding Nelson Center for the Arts offers approximately 70 juried residencies per year to visual artists, writers, composers, and interdisciplinary artists from across the country and around the world. Nebraska artists and those transitioning from graduate school receive special consideration by the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center.

KHN features living space for five residents in three apartments. Two large double-occupancy apartments feature private bedrooms with en suite baths, and spacious shared kitchen, living, and dining rooms. Composers stay in the garden-level efficiency apartment, located under the composition studio.

All apartments are furnished with basic necessities such as dishes, pots and pans, and kitchen appliances, and a basic spice pantry. Bedroom and bath linens are provided. Each apartment has private control for heating or air conditioning. Onsite laundry facilities are available for residents. The Center maintains two bicycles for residents' use.

Visual artists work in one of three studios, two of which are approximately 425 square feet and one that is 258 square feet, outfitted with work tables, running water and storage shelves. Hand tools, a table saw, a hand saw and painting easels are available. The studios feature full-spectrum LED track lighting with moveable fixtures, as well as overhead daylight fluorescent fixtures. The two larger studios have garage doors which may be opened to face the alley.

KHN gives special support to emerging artists by reserving a number of "transitional" residencies for recent masters degree graduates (within two years of application deadline). The application process is the same for all applicants, however applications from artists in transition following graduation from an accredited degree program receive special consideration.*

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Millay Colony Residency — Austerlitz, New York

Deadline: March 1 for August-November
Application Fee: $35 fee or $50 for the Extended Deadline
Length: 2-4 weeks
Food: Our chef cooks healthy delicious dinners and also provides food for residents to cook their own day-time meals. We are happy to respond to food allergies as well as vegetarian, vegan and other diets. We have a barbecue for outdoor grilling and get-togethers.

The Millay Colony is an artists residency program in Upstate New York offering one-month and two-week retreats to six visual artists, writers and composers each month between April and November. We also offer a select number of group residencies for collaborating artists and virtual residencies for those who can’t spend prolonged time away from home. We welcome artists of all ages, from all cultures and communities, and in all stages of their career. Each residency includes a private bedroom and studio as well as ample time to work in a gorgeous atmosphere. We do not emphasize events or production goals. We believe we can offer artists nothing more precious than the chance to work, and we provide everything an artist needs to organize her time for maximum productivity.*

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DUE MARCH 6

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Banff Artist in Residence Summer 2019 — Banff, Alberta, Canada

Deadline: March 6
Application fee: 
$65 for each individual or group application. Individual group members must pay an additional registration fee of $35 on acceptance.
Stipend: 
*Financial Aid up to 100% covering tuition and shared room accommodation will be offered to all participants due to renovations taking place in Glyde Hall, the Banff Centre’s Visual Arts building. Meals plans are not eligible. If you would like to be considered, please complete the Financial Aid section when uploading your supporting materials.
Length: July 22 - August 23, 2019

The Banff Artist in Residence (BAiR) program is designed for visual artists to focus on their own practice in a supportive learning environment. Participants are encouraged to explore new ideas, create, self-direct their research and time, and cultivate new directions in their work — all while surrounded by a community of peers within Banff Centre’s spectacular mountain setting. 

The program encourages experimentation and risk-taking, via access to shared production facilities and knowledgeable staff who are available to provide technical support and assistance.* Participants may attend talks, exhibitions, and performances by world-renowned visiting artists as well as receive studio visits from program guest artists. In addition, participants have the opportunity to build connections, create networks, collaborate, and share their work with other artists-in-residence and the public.

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DUE MARCH 10

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ACRE — Steuben, Wisconsin 

Deadline: March 10
Application Fee: Through February 28: $40; February 28-March 10: $50
Length: 2 weeks, 3 sessions
Residency Fee: 14-Day Session: $700
Funding: Numerous scholarships available. click here for eligibility. 
Food: Breakfast is provided each morning in the lodge, available from 8-10am, continental style. Residents eat lunch and dinner communally in a large screened-in outdoor dining hall/kitchen. Prepared by a large team of chefs and assistants, each meal is made from locally-sourced meats, veggies, and dairy. Options for vegans and vegetarians are available upon request, and food is prepared specially for those with other dietary restrictions.

Session 1: July 1-14
Session 2: July 18-31
Session 3: August 5-18

ACRE (Artists’ Cooperative Residency and Exhibitions) is an artist-run non-profit based in Chicago devoted to employing various systems of support for emerging artists and to creating a generative community of cultural producers. ACRE investigates and institutes models designed to help artists develop, present, and discuss their practices by providing forums for idea exchange, interdisciplinary collaboration, and experimental projects. Please note that studios are set up as shared work-spaces. Private work spaces are limited to your apartment. If you are seeking a solitary residency experience or require private accommodations, ACRE may not be the right program for you.

Most residents stay in the sprawling Steuben Lodge, which houses around 40 people and contains a large central area that includes a library with limited wireless internet, breakfast area, computers, printers and scanners for everyone’s use, and more.*

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DUE MARCH 15

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Djerassi — Santa Cruz Mountains, California

Deadline: March 15
Application fee: 
$45; $65 up to one week after deadline
Stipend: 
Ford Family Foundation Residency, available to visual and media artists who reside full-time in Oregon, will reimburse fellows for the cost of air travel and shipping of materials.
Length: 
4-5 weeks

Residencies are awarded competitively, at no cost, to national and international artists in the disciplines of choreography, literature, music composition, visual arts, media arts, and science. There are 6 residency sessions each year: 5 are 4 weeks long and 1 that includes Open House/Open Studios is 5 weeks long. One session is devoted to Scientific Delirium Madness and the intersection of art and science. No shortened or partial residencies are offered. 

Djerassi Program is designed as a retreat experience to pursue personal creative work and share collegial interaction within a small community of artists. In this spirit residents are expected to commit themselves for the entire residency session they are awarded.

Our Program chef prepares communal dinners Monday through Friday, and provisions both kitchens. Residents prepare their own breakfasts, lunches, and weekend dinners using ingredients supplied by the Program.

Djerassi Program offers residencies during the regular season, which run from mid-March through mid-November. Winter Residencies for alumni of the Djerassi Program designed to be far more independent and substantially different from the regular residency.* 

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Plyspace Residency — Muncie, Indiana

Deadline: March 15
Application Fee: $25 
Stipend: $500 travel stipend for regular residents; $1500 for Resident Fellows to be used for travel and living expenses and up to $1000 in funding toward their proposed collaborative project 
Length: 4-12 weeks 
Housing: accommodations on the second floor of PlySpace, a post-victorian house built in 1916, in the Emily Kimbrough Historic District of downtown Muncie, Indiana. The living quarters will include a private bedroom, private or shared bath, a shared living space, shared laundry facilities, and a shared full kitchen.

PlySpace is an artist-in-residence program dedicated to offering visual artists, writers, performers, designers, and other creative individuals time and space to investigate and pursue their own practices. Additionally, it serves as a platform for experimentation and provocation by catalyzing conversation and collaboration with various Muncie communities. PlySpace facilitates various opportunities for residents to engage with the public through partnership and programming that is tailored to their area of interest.

Each resident will propose a personal project as well as a project to be completed in partnership with a community collaborator. PlySpace will work with both parties to encourage a successful and fulfilling collaboration. For more information on community partners and collaborations, take a look at the Community Collaborators page.

Selected residents will be offered one of two types of residency. The type of residency offered will be determined by the Admissions Panel and Final Selection Committee during the admissions process. All residencies include living space in PlySpace and studio space across the street at Madjax, a center for innovation and design. 

PlySpace Residents will be offered living quarters, studio amenities, and will be paired with a community collaborator based on their personal and collaborative project proposals and interests. Residents are expected to complete a public talk about their work and complete a project in partnership with their Community Collaborator. Resident Artists will have full access to the PlySpace studio spaces at Madjax as well as limited access to the School of Art (SOA) facilities at Ball State University. They will receive a $500 travel stipend for their residency period, between 4 and 12 weeks.

PlySpace Resident Fellows will be offered living quarters, studio amenities, and will be paired with the Ball State University School of Art as their community collaborator. Resident Fellows are expected to conduct multiple public programs connected to their practice through their partnership with the SOA. Resident Fellows will have access to the SOA facilities necessary to complete their projects as well as the PlySpace studio spaces. Resident Fellows will receive a $1500 stipend provided by PlySpace to be used for travel and living expenses and up to $1000 in funding toward their proposed collaborative project and supplies. Resident Fellows must plan a 9 to 12 week residency stay.

Three individual or collective applicants will be accepted for each residency term (one PlySpace Resident Fellow and two PlySpace Residents).

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Roswell Artist-in-Residence Program — Roswell, New Mexico

Deadline: March 15
Application Fee: $25
Stipend: $800 per month is offered along with $100 for a spouse/partner and $200 per child living with the grantee.
Length: 1 year

The studios are large, open spaces that measure approximately 30 'x 25 'x 10'. These areas are well-lighted and convertible to the artist's requirements. Artists are housed in a complex of six houses and 10 studios located on fifty acres of land. Each artist is provided with a house that can amply accommodate either a single person or a family. Rent, utilities (except telephone), repairs and maintenance costs are borne by the Program. Houses are furnished with major furniture items, appliances and utensils within reason. The printmaking facility is a small, fully operational studio - basically lithographic/etching in nature. No dogs. Cats allowed, but should be kept inside due to coyotes.*

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For more March Residency Deadlines, visit artistcommunities.org.


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1373820 2019-02-13T17:31:21Z 2019-02-13T17:31:21Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Corey Postiglione

Baroque Tango #3, 2018. Acrylic on canvas. 40 x 80 inches.

COREY POSTIGLIONE's paintings use the visual language of geometric abstraction in combination with the literary device of metaphor. In crisp, flat color, he returns again and again to the curved line, the oval and the interlocking chain, allowing the meaning of these recurring forms to shift from painting to painting. Corey received a BFA in Studio Arts at the University of Illinois at Chicago and a MA in Art History and Critical Theory from the School of The Art Institute of Chicago. He has exhibited widely since the 1970s with solo shows at Thomas Masters Gallery (Chicago), Westbrook Modern Gallery (Carmel, CA) and Jan Cicero Gallery (Chicago), among others. In addition to his career as a practicing artist, his critical writing has been published in Artforum, The New Art Examiner, Dialogue, and C-Magazine (Toronto). He was a founding member of the Chicago Art Critics Association. He is currently Professor Emeritus from Columbia College Chicago where he taught Art History and Critical Theory as well as studio arts for over 25 years. You can see his work through March 1, 2019 in Curators Create Second Biennial at the Bridgeport Art Center (Chicago). Corey lives and works in Chicago.

OtherPeoplesPixels: How do geometric abstraction and metaphor work together in your paintings? Are they balanced equally, or does one drive the work more?

Corey Postiglione: This question is essential to my entire artistic practice, which extends over many years. I have always been attracted to the possibilities of abstraction—especially the geometric style— for its formal innovation, its freedom for color, no longer restricted to nature, and its potential for ambiguity of content. This last is where I have used abstraction for its metaphorical possibilities referencing such things as population growth (the Exponential series) or the recent effects of globalization (the Tango series). Also in this regard, the concept of personal “life paths” began with the Labyrinth series in the early 90s. 

Vortex # 14, 2017. Acrylic on canvas. 16 x 16 inches.

OPP: Your titles are significant in terms of pointing to the metaphors, which are still quite open to interpretation. What do TangosVortexes and Lines of Flight have in common?

CP: All these series rely on certain themes mentioned above, a visual complexity or conundrum; the lines suggest flight or trajectories.  In fact I named one series of works Lines of Flight, for the possibility of escape. The Vortex series just increases the above concepts of visual complexity in the extreme as a metaphor for our current condition: where do we fit in this complex network of international globalization.

Dancer in the Dark #2, 2016. Acrylic on canvas. 30 x 30 inches.

OPP: You’ve been working with recurring visual motifs for at least 15 years (if not more). What keeps you excited about curved lines, ovals and interlocking chains? Are you ever tempted to paint something drastically different?

CP: Since the 2000s, I have mainly used curved forms, ovals, circles, to further my themes of complexity and interconnectedness.  Moreover, what I like about using these curved forms is that they can be both mathematically geometric but at the same time suggest organic images.

The artist Robert Mangold, one of my early heroes, has said that when you reach a certain point in a series and it no longer provides a new and exciting place to go. In other words, when you have exhausted the possibilities, then you need to move on. This is excellent advice and one I take very seriously. Cezanne’s’ doubt is always hovering over you in the studio. However, these forms continue to supply me with new and exciting ways to create fresh work. But when that time comes, when I feel these forms are no longer providing new and innovative visual possibilities, I will take Mangold’s advice and move on.

Tango Primary WBG, 2012. Acrylic on canvas. 40" x 40."

OPP: You’ve written that you are “inspired by the great utopian notions of late modernism (the cult of the right angle),” but it seems you haven’t painted a right angle lately. How would you describe your relationship to Modernism? 

CP: This is a very complex question but a good one. In the early 90s, I started to question the notion that Modernism—or maybe more precisely Modernity—could solve the world’s problems through technology, science, design and aesthetics. I specifically titled a piece Utopian Dreams, visually referencing these doubts. We also saw the rise of Postmodernism(s) that critiqued traditional modernism. I never rejected the right angle, and some of the early Labyrinth series incorporated a stricter geometry. The curved forms just provided me with a more complex lexicon of visual potential that would better serve my personal and political content.

Tango Eclipse Diptych, 2015. Acrylic on canvas. 40 x 60 inches.

OPP: What’s happening in your studio right now?

CP: I am continuing to explore new visual permutations with these curved forms. I am currently working on The Baroque Tango series. It follows the extravagant ideas imbedded in the concept of the Baroque: a rich and strong palette, emphasis on movement across the pictorial field and spatial complexity. It should be noted that as much as I strive to embody my abstraction with life-world content, I have always tried to make work that was visually generous in color and form. In other words, I want the work to seduce the viewer. I want the work to also be about the pleasure of the aesthetic experience, what Andrea K. Scott recently referred to as “retinal pleasure.” This is whether one gets what ideas are behind the making of the work. Otherwise I would just put up a didactic written statement. No, I am still an advocate of Visual Art with the emphasis on the visual.


To see more of Corey's work, please visit coreypostiglione.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006 Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago.  Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), the Annex Gallery at Lillstreet Art Center (Chicago 2014), The Stolbun Collection (Chicago 2017) and Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis 2017) and Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018). During summer 2018, Stacia created  Renunciation Reliquary as a one-night installation for Chicago Artist Coalition's annual benefit Work in Progress and was an Artist-in-Residence at Facebook. She is currently preparing for a solo show titled Practice, which will open in April 2019 at Kent State Stark.


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1368525 2019-01-30T14:55:41Z 2019-01-30T15:37:03Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Anne Yafi

Plush Grid, 2018. Pipe cleaners, mixed media. 144" x 96" x 20"

Bright color and texture are the purveyors of mindful pleasure in ANNE YAFI's conceptually-driven painting practice. She uses mass-produced materials that reference consumerism and hobby craft to subvert the values of Minimalism. Her pipe cleaner grids, whether hovering in space or popping off the wall, are malleable, resilient, and defiantAnne earned her BFA at Northern Illinois University (Dekalb, IL) and her MFA at The School of the Art Institute Chicago. Her solo shows include Anne Yafi, Fresh Work (2016) at Free Range (Chicago) and Does It Feel Delicious (2017) at Kruger Gallery (Chicago). In 2018, she collaborated with Christalena Hughmanick to create a site-specific installation called There's Nothing Natural About This at Wedge Projects (Chicago). Her most recent solo show is currently on view at 65GRAND (Chicago). Dip In My Daydream runs through February 23, 2019. Anne lives and works in Chicago. 

OtherPeoplesPixels: American culture sends mixed messages about the value of play. We are constantly being sold entertainment and pleasure, but there’s also a underlying, dominant idea that it isn’t productive or useful. How do you think about play and playfulness? 

Anne Yafi: Pleasure gets a bad rap, and rightly so when it doesn’t empower one’s life experience. It’s really a matter of perception and attitude, I’m solidly pro-pleasure! I think the critique regarding play in our culture when associated with pleasure is largely addressing passive and escapist consumer behavior versus one of active participation that I engage for my purposes as an artist. I’m well aware of the judgement and my continued interest feels defiant which makes it even more compelling to me. I think my embrace of play really took hold after creating my first pipe cleaner grid and closely observing visitors enter my studio.

Sex Karma (detail), 2014. Pipe cleaners, plastic beads.

OPP: How did they respond?

AY: Some of the most stoic, hard-core academics would break into a smile; others stood mesmerized, their eyes traveling about the grid. Several looked for ways to climb into the grid, while a few have absentmindedly reached for the pipe cleaners, stroking them like a pet while talking to me. Seriously fascinating. What does this mean in the context of art? I think the more interesting question is, how does an artwork shape the experience of viewing? 

Snuggle Wall (Make Love Not Walls), 2017. (detail)

OPP: What led you to work with mass-produced materials, including pipe cleaners, Perler beads and Ikea straws?

AY: My response to a newly found material or object is always highly visceral as I immediately fall in love with its materiality and the possibilities for abstracting it away from its intended function. I began grad school as a painter and had to reinvent my work because of a 60-mile commute into Chicago. I live in a rural community where every big box home improvement and craft store is within three miles of my home studio. IKEA is a store I frequent because I grew up with it as a child visiting Sweden decades before it entered the US.

2013-2017, Limited Edition, 2017. Ikea drinking straws. 50" x 40"

OPP: And you work with these materials as “painting?”

AY: These materials are a conceptual approach to drawing and painting. The IKEA straw works reference hard edge abstraction as well as contemporary issues on consumerism. They question value judgements around pleasure and on non-art versus art. The pipe cleaners are a linear medium that I alter through a painting process or punctuate with alternating color and texture with the beads.

Good Intentions, 2018. Pipe cleaners, mixed media, ceramics. 33" x 60"

OPP: How are the dimensional grids different from the wall works?

AY: After making a few two-dimensional “drawings” with the pipe cleaners in 2014, the three-dimensional grid was a natural progression in keeping with my subversion of Minimalism. The fantastic thing with pipe cleaners is they have a strong wire interior buried inside all that soft, disarming fuzz, and I employ these contradictions in the work. The grids begin as an invitation to an exhibition space. On my first visit, I’ll read the light, interior architecture and converse with the director about their mission for exhibitions and community. For this reason, I define the grid installations as site-relational rather than site-specific.

During the installation of Dip In My Daydream at 65Grand, Chicago

OPP: Tell us about Dip In My Daydream, which opened last week at 65Grand in Chicago.

AY: For this work, I wanted to reference process as it applies to pre-install preparations and to my imaginative experience while making. I began by creating the color palette in a multistage process of spraying and dipping over 9000 white pipe cleaners—approximately 300 at a time—with my paint mixture. Once install began I continued to dye pipe cleaners in new color combinations as the “palette" needed adjusting. I worked unassisted to build a 11’ x 9’ x 17’ hanging grid in eight days. There was no plan other than the grid’s systematic structure which functions as an allegory for how painters negotiate the pictorial frame or canvas. It’s an intuitive process that involves the selection and consideration of color and value relationships as I “paint” in the third dimension. The title also implies an invitation for the viewer to enter into this fantasy space that I’ve created. However, like its grid predecessors, the installation is built with only the illusion of entry as I’m drawing comparisons to the immersive experience one has when viewing two-dimensional paintings. 

Untitled, from the series Does It Feel Delicious, 2017.16" x 16"

OPP: The series Does It Feel Delicious? evokes decorated donuts and bagels with beautiful schmears. This work and its title seem to be a direct response to the term “eye candy,” which is often used in the art world in a dismissive way. Why are so many people so skeptical of visual pleasure?

AY: For the title, I chose a tactile descriptor in place of the visual for a twist on how paintings (again) are perceptually viewed and experienced. The heavily gessoed panels were created as topographical “meringues” to challenge my artist’s hand in painting a straight line repeatedly, the process thereby creating the resulting image. I found a pathos and humor in navigating that self-created obstruction. 

To answer your question, I think those who are skeptical of visual pleasure find it to be the antitheses of the intellect. This is a story old as time—body versus mind—and projections abound. I’m more interested in having them coexist within a contemporary female narrative because desire is not going anywhere. 

Overflowing Yummy, 2018. 24" x 24" x 6"

OPP: Well said! Can you talk about the recent addition of ceramics to your toolkit? I’ve seen images of works in progress on Instagram

AY: I was drawn towards ceramics because I could create exactly what I imagined. I entered this medium and its history with little experience which suits my preference for a direct and if you will, faux-naïve engagement with form. Plus, the glorious glaze colors, a candy store of options! The stripes on the “beaded” ceramic elements are painted by brush, a progression from painting on the gessoed reliefs to a fully three-dimensional object. Additionally, I’m currently in the process of making a variety of wall anchoring devices for the pipe cleaner works. There’s an inherent fragility in ceramics. That possibility of cracking or breaking regardless of its earthy density is compelling to me and in stark contrast to the pipe cleaner’s weightless strength. I’m always searching for materials where opportunities for humor and contradictions coexist.  

To see more of Anne's work, please visit anneyafi.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006 Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago.  Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), the Annex Gallery at Lillstreet Art Center (Chicago 2014), The Stolbun Collection (Chicago 2017) and Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis 2017) and Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018). During summer 2018, Stacia created  Renunciation Reliquary as a one-night installation for Chicago Artist Coalition's annual benefit Work in Progress and was an Artist-in-Residence at Facebook. She is currently preparing for a solo show titled Practice, which will open in April 2019 at Kent State Stark.


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1363899 2019-01-16T13:22:19Z 2019-01-16T13:22:19Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Claes Gabriel

The ouroboros, 2016. Acrylic on canvas. 36" x 35"

CLAES GABRIEL's (@claesgabriel) work is energetic, even hypnotic. His paintings push the boundaries of what paintings are. In addition to the conventional rectangle, he shapes his canvases to mimic masks and statues. These works, which put mythological and historical figures on equal footing, vibrate with color and pattern, making it difficult to look away. Claes earned a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Painting and Sculpture at the Maryland Institute College of Art in 1999. Exhibitions include Stand In (2016) at Automat Gallery (Philadelphia), Images from the Floating World: The Works of Claes Gabriel and Tyler Wilkinson (2017) at University City Arts League (Philadelphia) and solo show Thicker Than Water (2015) at Platform Gallery (Baltimore). Most recently Other Than Human was on view at the Philadelphia International Airport, and he was featured in the online literary journal A Gathering Together (Spring 2018). His work is included in the permanent collection of the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore, MD. Claes currently lives and works in West Philadelphia. 

OtherPeoplesPixels: Have you always been a painter? 

Claes Gabriel: What a great question: have I always been a painter? I just read Alan WattsBecome What You Are. so in a way, yes. But mainly because my father was a painter. He studied in Paris and New York and came back to Haiti with a fierce style which he passed on to me. The content of my work followed the change, I think. 

Esther, 2017. Acrylic on shaped canvas. 69" x 40" x 30."

OPP: When did you first start painting on shaped, sculptural canvases? 

CG: I began to shape canvas in college almost twenty years ago. I was fascinated by Frank Stella, Elsworth Kelly and Sam Gilliam. They broke out of the square shape. I wanted to mix what I learned from them with the rich Haitian history I come from. Usually I make the structures, then stretch and gesso my canvas and then begin drawing with charcoal.

The Haitian Revolution, 2017. Acrylic on canvas. 72" x 56"

OPP: You’ve represented archetypal figures such as The Elder and The Sea Nymph, goddesses from various parts of the world, including Circe and Green Tara, and historical figures like Little Ruby Bridges and Touissant Louverture. Can you talk about the way mythology and history live together in your practice?

CG: Mythology—that comes from my childhood in Haiti. I grew up hearing the voodoo drums in the background. We talk of spirits as if they are a real thing. The history part is simple. I have a pulpit as an artist that I want to use to bring up issues we may have forgotten that are still relevant. 

Little Ruby Bridges, 2018. Acrylic on linen. 15" x 6" x 4."

OPP: I was really struck by the image on your website that shows you standing on a stool working on The Harlequin. It emphasizes that these statues tower over you. Can you talk about the scale of the statues and the masks as they relate to the emotional tone you hope to evoke for the viewer?

CG: If I make the piece slightly larger than life, it might seem more human.

Queen of Time, 2016. Acrylic on shaped canvas. 50" x 36" x 12."

OPP: Can you talk about those recurring concentric circles, the undulating shapes of the masks and your palette?

CG: I think of tibetan sand paintings when I am making the circles. It's a meditation. 

The Ouroboros, 2017. Acrylic on canvas. 40" x 50."

OPP: What does the ouroboros mean to you? You have at least three different paintings with that same title. 

CG: I will probably keep working on that theme. It’s the snake eating itself. The best thing I could think of for a self portrait.

To see more of Claes' work, please visit claesgabriel.com

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006 Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago.  Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), the Annex Gallery at Lillstreet Art Center (Chicago 2014), The Stolbun Collection (Chicago 2017) and Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis 2017) and Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018). During summer 2018, Stacia created  Renunciation Reliquary as a one-night installation for Chicago Artist Coalition's annual benefit Work in Progress and was an Artist-in-Residence at Facebook. She is currently preparing for a solo show titled Practice, which will open in April 2019 at Kent State Stark.


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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1359522 2019-01-02T15:56:07Z 2019-01-02T15:57:14Z Going Strong for 7 Years: Andrew Scott Ross

Did you know the OPP blog just turned seven-years-old at the end of August 2018? In honor of our birthday and the artists we feature, we'll be sharing some blasts from the past throughout the year. In this post and throughout 2019, we'll share new work from Featured Artists interviewed in the first year of the blog. Today's artist is Andrew Scott Ross.

Ruins My Image (detail), 2018. Paper copies.

OPP: What's new in your practice, Andrew Scott Ross?

Andrew Scott Ross: I have dedicated the past seven years to the making of an encyclopedic museum—or more specifically a museum Omnia Temporaria—where all things, even the museum itself, is temporary. It’s an institution without a fixed location, and exists only as a collection of works; there are drawings, sculptures, videos, and installations. Many of these pieces mimic a diorama or traditional display of artifacts but are never considered complete. They transform each time they are presented and change in both form and intention.

Century Zoo IX, 2017. Weatherspoon Museum. Mud, paper, charcoal, paint, wood.

A good example is Century Zoo. This installation, produced when OPP first interviewed me in 2011, began with observational sketches within Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Greek and Roman Wing. I returned to the studio with all of these drawings, cut out parts, layered them, and covered them with ink, charcoal, and mud. Over the past seven years, I have exhibited this work eleven times, but have not once returned to the MET’s collection or observed their reproductions, denying myself the opportunity to reorient these representations to reflect the original forms.  

Century Zoo VII (installed at Gallery Protocol), 2016. Mud, Paper, Charcoal, Paint, Wood. Dimensions Variable.

Finally, the drawings of Attica pottery, Kouroi figurines, and marble busts are hardly recognizable, worn down by my studio process. The remaining forms and the way they are displayed in my installations only represent my fantasy of the originals. They are a collection of images corrupted by my imagination and the historical scholarship around this work that first influenced me. This evolving installation now represents my antiquities wing.

Dry Erase, 2017. Atlanta Contemporary Art Center. Styrofoam, Dry Erase Paint, Dry Erase Markers.

In 2014, I started playing with sterile materials found at Office Depot, like rubber bands, sticky notes, and bulletin boards. I wanted to combine these familiar products with distant prehistoric motifs that are beyond the grasp of our traditional systems of visual analysis. These experiments eventually morphed into Dry Erase: a sculptural work made of artificial boulders encased in whiteboard paint. These objects are arranged in formations that resemble Paleolithic rock art sites and are continually affected by the drawings made on their surfaces. I make all additional drawings and erasures on-site in the gallery, so the act of making and unmaking the work relates directly to the exhibition environment.

Ruins My Image (Installation View at the Hunter Museum of American Art), 2018.

I started Ruins My Image last year, and its first variation is currently on display at the Hunter Museum of American Art. This is an expanding group of drawings that originated from a single reproduction of prehistoric San rock art from the Matopo Hills of Zimbabwe. It all started from a small, beautiful, 3000-year-old yellow, ochre painting depicting an injured human. In my studio, it became the sole source of inspiration for the past last year. The results translated into an installation, which functions as a map of citations, a visual bibliography that charts where and why I have distorted the original prehistoric representation.

Songs (Abstract Cricket Boxes), 2014.

Like the Art Institute of Chicago, my fictive museum has a Modern Wing. The newest related work is sculptural and each piece doubles as a habitat for living animals. I created two Plexiglas geometric sculptures that act as aquariums for cold-water fish in 2012, and later, I made a series of sculptures that house crickets—you can hear them chirp as soon as you approach the objects.

Read our first interview with Andrew.

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1355058 2018-12-19T14:51:47Z 2018-12-23T01:11:38Z Going Strong for 7 Years: Andrea Myers

Did you know the OPP blog just turned seven-years-old at the end of August 2018? In honor of our birthday and the artists we feature, we'll be sharing some blasts from the past throughout the year. In this post and throughout 2019, we'll share new work from Featured Artists interviewed in the first year of the blog. Today's artist is Andrea Myers.

What's new in your practice, Andrea Myers?

Andrea Myers: Looking back over almost a decade of my work, which sounds crazy to say, I have been busy with artist residencies, exhibitions, curating and teaching. I find as a continue to work in the artistic field, everything is a domino effect and is symbiotic. Opportunities grow from one experience to the next; the works I have been making are born from one another. Scale, scope and technique are things I intentionally or subconsciously push at in my work; I’m always seeking the next direction in my work. 

BurstBoom, 2015. Machine sewn fabric collage. 40 x 55"

I have had moments of collaboration and unique site-specific interventions. My work has been commissioned by public locations, corporate entities and private collectors. I have traveled to places I never thought I would go and also have done residencies where I am immersed in places for long periods of time. My teaching has grown from part time to full time, and as I have been teaching sculpture for almost ten years, I get excited to see how emerging artists are viewing the world through the lens of their making.

GreyzigGrayzag, 2017. Machine sewn fabric collage. 36" x 120"

I continue to learn and make; each new project or residency or teaching moment brings more learning curves and insights into my own creative practice. Through the evolution and change in my practice and myself over the last ten years, I remain engaged in saturated color, materiality explorations and looking to abstraction as a means of expression and visual experience.

Tangled Web, 2011. Detail of machine sewn fabric collage. 38" x 44"

In 2011-2012, I was one of five midwestern artists to receive the Efroymson Contemporary Art Fellowship recipients, which awards $20,000 grants to regional artists. Through this generous grant, I was able to afford more studio space, daycare for my daughter and other living expenses to help supplement my adjunct teaching at the time. The funding allowed me to feel able to take more risks in the works I was making and afforded me focused studio time, all helping to build momentum in my work.

Knotted Knaw, 2013. layered fabric, MDF, latex paint. 24" x 24" x 24"

I had taken some time off pursuing residencies because of having a child in 2010, and I started applying and attending residencies again in 2015. In the fall of 2015, I traveled to Daugavpils, Latvia to participate in the Fortress Man Textile Symposium at the Mark Rothko Art Centre. In the summer of 2016, I was chosen for the Work in Progress residency at the Textile Art Center in New York City. During the month long residency, I recreated a version of my studio space in the front window of the center and held public workshops, creating experimental textile collages.

Switchswatch, 2018. machine sewn fabric collage. 36" x 58"

In the summer of 2018, I was awarded the Dresden Artist Exchange by the Greater Columbus Arts Council, receiving a fully funded two- month residency in Dresden, Germany. I will be returning to Germany in 2019 to participate in a residency at coGalleries in Berlin, Germany. My residency experiences have nourished my studio practice, creating protected and concentrated time to make works and be inspired by new surroundings.

En Plein Air, 2017. Machine sewn fabric collages. 8' x 25'

Two larger recent commissions I have created have been for the Dayton Metro Main Library Branch, consisting of six textile wall-based works, entitled En Plein Air, inspired by Monet’s Waterlilies. In 2018, I was commissioned to make a large-scale immersive textile wall-based installation piece for the corporate offices of Facebook in Chicago. These projects have fueled larger scale works I am planning for the future.  A good amount of the works I make are commissioned, which I also balance with studio pursuits that are self-directed. I feel at this point in my artistic career, I have my chosen visual vocabulary established, and I am further exploring the possibilities within my own constructed language.

Rainbowedbend, 2018. Site specific machine sewn textile collage. Facebook, Chicago.

Currently, I am represented by Hammond Harkins Gallery in Columbus, Ohio, McCormick Gallery in Chicago, IL and GUT Gallery in Dallas, TX with upcoming exhibitions at Galerie Klaus Braun in Stuttgart, Germany, the Columbus Museum of Art and the Textile Museum of Hohenstein-Ernstthal, Germany

Read Andrea's OPP interview from 2010.

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1350564 2018-12-05T15:02:08Z 2018-12-05T15:11:20Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Emi Ozawa

This is Granny Smith, 2018. Acrylic on poplar. 52" x 52" x 13." Photo credit: Margot Geist

EMI OZAWA's skillfully crafted sculptures show thoughtful attention to line, form and color. The simplicity of her geometry—repeating circles, lines and squares—belies the complexity of her thematic concerns. In kinetic sculptures and wall-hung sculptures that change dramatically as the viewer walks past, she explores of the relationship between looking, touching and moving. Emi studied at Joshibi University of Art and Design and Tokyo School of Art. She earned her BFA in Craft/Wood at The University of the Arts (Philadelphia) and her MFA in Furniture Design at Rhode Island School of Design. She has exhibited widely throughout the U.S, in London and in Tokyo. In January 2018, Emi's solo show Follow The Line opened at Richard Levy Gallery. The gallery will also take her work to Art Miami in December 2018. Her work was included in the group show Parallax : A RAiR Connection Exhibition (2018) at the Roswell Museum and Art Center, alongside Featured Artist Justin Richel. In 2019, Emi will be an artist-in-residence at Tamarind Institute in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where she lives and works.

OtherPeoplesPixels: You studied graphic design and furniture design. How did that inform the work you make now? 

Emi Ozawa: while I was working as a graphic designer, the feeling of wanting to create 3D objects by my hand grew. I had the idea that objects could be kinetic and interactive. The reason why I started learning woodworking was to make my sculpture steady for touching and moving. I was interested in furniture as objects that have a built-in invitation to touch and move. I also wanted to learn about wood. I love the feel and the texture of this material.

Square on Square, 2010. Acrylic on apple plywood with brass. 19.75" x 20" x 3". Photo credit : Margot Geist.

OPP: What led you away from functional objects toward visual art?

EO: From the start, I was combining my sculptural ideas into furniture. I wanted my work to be inviting. You can sit, you can open a door. Its function was secondary for me. For instance, Bird tables surface is very limited. My ‘box form’ sculptures—like Wound Up(2001) and bOX (2001)—have very small inside spaces. Each piece has very unique way of opening and closing. They needed to be explained by someone present, sometimes a piece would be displayed in a case, all of this intruded on the viewer’s full experience. Gradually I felt that I wanted my work to be independent like a painting on a wall. Viewers are invited to look and have an experience of interaction without touching. Further more, I wanted to focus on surface painting more than spending too much energy with building mechanical parts and joints.

Red Bridge, 2004. Acrylic on apple plywood with brass. 15" x 15" x 2.5". Photo credit : Mark Johnston.

OPP: In your statement, you mentioned that play is a central concern of your work. Early kinetic works like Triangle Train (2009) or See Saw 2 (2002) could be touched. What makes an interactive work a sculpture versus a toy? Does that distinction matter to you at all?

EO: Yes. This distinction matters to me, but I can’t help it if others blur the line between the two experiences. Making art which applies itself to our instinct to play is the connection I am seeking. I think a toy is for the users—user-centered. That’s why a lot of toys are made safe for certain ages, for certain development, or there is a room for how to approach the toy.

Speaking about my interactive sculpture, there is a very specific way that a viewer can interact with the piece. When it’s activated, it shows a movement or a surprise which I created to share. So it is artist-centered.

Rain on Rain, 2016. (front, left and right side views). Acrylic on poplar. 48" x 28.5" x 2." Photo credit: Margot Geist.

OPP: Your wall sculptures are very much about visual perspective. They change if you look at them from different points of view. Is this pure abstraction? Or do you think of these abstractions as metaphors?

EO: I think a lot of them are pure abstraction using color and geometry, but some are developed from my response to nature. For example, I considered rain drops falling in Rain on Rain (2016), the moon in a night sky in Once in A Blue Moon (2014) and the vivid colors I see during Summer season in One Summer Day Takes a Walk (2013). I like working with squares and circles because they are my favorite language. They tend to relate, and I use them towards what you are talking about in terms of visual perspective. 

Drifting Mist (two views), 2015. Acrylic on poplar. 15" x 15' x 1.875". Photo credit : Margot Geist.

OPP: When I first looked at works like Kaki to Yuzu (2018) and Blue Line (2017), I thought of variations on the Modernist grid and the textile grid of weaving, as well as an accumulations of ladders against the wall. Then I googled Amidakuji (2016) and had a whole new perspective. Can you explain for non-Japanese speakers? 

EO: Amidakuji is a common game of chance in Japan. You just need a pen and a paper. You draw vertical lines of participants number which could be two to however many. Then add horizontal lines in between the vertical lines, write prizes or numbers at the bottom end of the line and hide that detail. Each player can add more horizontal lines. Now the game begins. Each participant picks a line. You track the path downwards from the top. Following the line, it crosses sometime with other path but never overlap. When you reach the bottom, you find the prize. When I started drawing this idea, I thought everybody knew about it. Then soon I found out it is not common in USA. As far as the purpose of the game goes, picking the shortest straw might do something similar.

Amidakuji, 2016. Acrylic on mahogany. 54" x 46.5" x 1.25." Photo credit : Jeff Krueger

OPP: How important is it that viewers understand this reference when looking at the work?

EO: I structured these three pieces based on this game and applied this rule to color these lines. I wouldn’t be making these works without knowing Amidakuji. But it can be looked at as a sculpture without its references. Though it is not a must, I mention its inspiration because it is part of it for me, as is this work’s relation to the Modernist grid you mention. It is interesting to see similarities in Mondrian’s structure and this game.    

Five Blue Circles, 2018. Paper on board. 10" x 15" x 2.5" frame.

OPP: Many recent wall sculptures are made of paper instead of wood. Is this a new material in your practice? 

EO: I have been making paper models for 30 years. It was for my furniture, as it is now for my sculpture. From drawing to paper model to wood sculpture. . . this has been my process. Paper model-making is an important step for me to see and understand three dimensional aspects before working on a piece in actual size and material. I always enjoy working with paper just like I do with wood.

I have an upcoming residency  in 2019 at Tamarind Institute in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where there will be an opportunity for me to do some 3D lithography. Because this work will be on paper, I was looking at my paper models and drawings and started experimenting with paper towards the work as a finished art object. 

Sugar Plum, 2018. Paper, tape on board. 13" x 13" x 1.5" framed.

OPP: Can you talk about the material differences between wood and paper?

EO: Paper doesn’t have thickness like wood. Paper is foldable and flexible unlike wood. Paper is more fragile than wood. There are many differences between the two, with what you can and cannot do, yet my paper and wood pieces are alike though in different scales.

Some ideas echo in-between wood pieces and paper pieces. My newest paper pieces are inspired by my wall wood sculpture that changes its look from the different perspectives. I found it is interesting that the reverse process is happening. Adding paper to my materials, my play ground of ideas is expanding. 

To see more of Emi's work, please visit emiozawa.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006 Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago.  Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), the Annex Gallery at Lillstreet Art Center (Chicago 2014), The Stolbun Collection (Chicago 2017) and Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis 2017) and Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018). During summer 2018, Stacia created  Renunciation Reliquary as a one-night installation for Chicago Artist Coalition's annual benefit Work in Progress and was an Artist-in-Residence at Facebook. She is currently preparing for a solo show titled Practice, which will open in April 2019 at Kent State Stark.

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1346189 2018-11-21T18:36:30Z 2018-11-21T18:38:59Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Alicia King

Machinations, 2018. Neon (mercury), graphite on paper. 122cm x 111cm.

Interdisciplinary artist ALICIA KING explores the relationship between the human body, technology and the always-imminent Future. Some sculptural works combine the visual language of the religious reliquary with living human cells. Other text-based works, rendered both in neon and in balsa wood that mimics the form of neon, highlights the false dichotomy of nature and technology. Alicia earned her BFA in 2005, followed by her PhD in Fine Arts in 2009 at the University of Tasmania, Hobart Art School. She exhibits internationally and has been included in group shows in Germany, the United States, Japan, Vietnam and Australia. Her work is included in the Fehily Contemporary Collection and the permanent collection at The Museum of Old and New Art (Hobart, Tasmania). Alicia is preparing for two solo exhibitions in 2019 in Melbourne: Our Long Conversation with the Sun at Linden New Art and Alien Nature at C3 Contemporary Art Space. Alicia lives and works in Melbourne, Australia.

OtherPeoplesPixels: What’s the relationship between biology, technology and spirituality, as you see it?

Alicia King: The spiritual link is interesting, and it can be culturally specific. For example, Japanese culture has a history of animism that influences their approach to robotics, but I’m not sure Western culture really makes that connection. I think the technological can seem in opposition to the spiritual because we generally equate the spiritual with nature, and tech is often seen as the opposite of nature. I wouldn’t say I’m overtly interested in spirituality, but I guess I allude to those ideas through exploring subjectivity and embodiment in biological materials, the sublime and phenomenological in nature and technology. 

In a way, the reliquary pieces play upon fake miracles of technology and the idea of science as fulfilling the mythology of the future.

Slip me some skin, 2012. Glass, human tissue (donated by anonymous donor), fibroblast cells (HaCaT cell line) agar, resin, flock. Detail.

OPP: Yes, I was specifically thinking about the reliquaries like Slip Me Some Skin (2009) and Delicacies of the Dead (2009). Works like these refer to the Medieval Christian practice of memorializing dead saints by their body parts, which were intended as devotional objects that link human and God. What does it mean to create reliquaries for human cells from anonymous donors? 

AK: How we deal with bodily materials once they are outside of their host body is really varied and fascinating. When used by industry, tissue is generally anonymous, objectified and considered to be a waste product, though it has incredible financial value. The individual origins of the tissue are removed and it is used like any other raw material commodity. 

In the case of cells from anonymous sources, the use of the relic applies a sense of subjectivity to bodily material, and places focus upon the identity of the tissue through the limited information available about its origins. It’s also used to make viewers aware of how tissue is used and the ethical issues involved. There are online tissue banks where researchers purchase cells and tissue, and that tissue is sourced from individuals—it’s a pretty wild concept.

The Absence of the Void. 2009. Human tissue (the artist's cultured skin cells from tissue taken via biopsy), polyurethane, flock, acrylic. Detail.

OPP: Is it a different experience when you use tissue from your own biopsies?

AK: With my own tissue, I was exploring an experience of self and whether working with my own tissue would effect my sense of embodiment. When was a teenager I had facial surgery that changed my face significantly and ruptured my sense of feeling in sync with my body. It also got me thinking about the psychological effects of adding and subtracting from the body with the living materials of other humans and animals, and really started me on this body of research. 

The Vision Splendid, 2010. Portable bioreactor housing living human tissue (the artist's own skin cells and tissue, taken via biopsy). Installation view. 3m x 2m x 2m.

OPP: In works like The Ephemeral Flesh Project (2010) or The Vision Splendid (2010), what are the practical logistics of working with bio matter as an art material?

AK: Working with living systems (human cells and tissue) is challenging and hard to describe. It’s a really layered and subjective experience—you can’t help being aware that the material you’re working with is alive, and that it comes from a human/s body. It’s also really temperamental, you can’t control the physical or aesthetic outcome like you can with non-living materials, you have to let the material guide you, and it’s prone to illness, infection and death. It’s a very strange process. 

Psychic Nature. 2017. Cast pigmented polyurethane, airbrushed metal sheet, magnetic material. 40cm x 40cm x 30cm.

OPP: In 2009 you earned a PhD for “Transformations of the Flesh; Rupturing Embodiment through Biotechnology, an artistic exploration of relationships between biotech practices and the physical, ethical and ritual body.” Tell us about this thesis project. Was it written? What do you mean by “the physical, ethical and ritual body?”

AK: My PhD explored how artists contribute to dialogue around the influence of biotech developments on our sense of humanness. The thesis comprised a body of artwork and a 40,000 word exegesis. 

I was looking at different relationships that we have with the body in society.  Firstly, the way that bodily material is physically used in science and medicine, i.e. how it is physically processed and/or manipulated; how it’s regulated in an ethical and legal context, in relation to commodification of bodily materials, i.e. who has rights over our bodily materials, and what can be done with them. And lastly the history of ritual attitudes to the body, in the sense of the emotive and subjective relationship we have to our bodies, living and dead, through reference to the historic bodily relics. We conceptualize and deal with the body with such conflicting and irrational perspectives. And I’m continually surprised by how disinterested people seem to be about what is happening to our bodies in science and legislation. 

Natural Phenomena. 2015. Detail. Biological amulet levitating above a cast of the artist's bust. The amulet rotates as it levitates, seemingly propelled by telekinesis.

OPP: Tell us why you chose to get a PhD and how it’s affected the visual art you now make?

AK: It’s more common in Australia for artists to have PhDs. Depending on your arts practice, it can help your work to be taken more seriously. My work has always been a fairly even mix of practice and research, but it helped me access University facilities and personnel in other faculty areas for research projects that I’m not sure would’ve happened if I’d been a random artist. Australia is pretty antiquated in its attitude towards artists, so it helps to level the playing field between artists and researchers/academics.

Clone the Future. 2015. Hand-carved balsa wood. Detail.

OPP: You’ve recently been making text-based works in balsa wood —Why Die and Clone the Futureboth from 2015—and neon? What’s the relationship between the two materials and the text? Does one address your conceptual interests more effectively?

AK: I find neon really interesting as a pop-cultural signifier of hi-tech and the ‘future.’ Neon is also biological, made from glass and natural gases. It can be seen as an atmospheric microcosm, much like the Aurora Borealis gases in the atmosphere, condensed in a glass tube and activated by electricity. So for me, it really embodies the relationship between nature and tech.

Hand-carving neon text in a natural material like balsa wood adds a layer of ambiguity to it, yet at the same same time directly relates the natural with the technological. 

Language also plays an important role in cultural hierarchies. The text alludes to pop culture and biotech in order to play with some of the iconic mythologies about science and the future.


To see more of Alicia's work, please visit aliciaking.net.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006 Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago.  Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), the Annex Gallery at Lillstreet Art Center (Chicago 2014), The Stolbun Collection (Chicago 2017) and Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis 2017) and Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018). During summer 2018, Stacia created  Renunciation Reliquary as a one-night installation for Chicago Artist Coalition's annual benefit Work in Progress and was an Artist-in-Residence at Facebook. She is currently preparing for a solo show titled Practice, which will open in April 2019 at Kent State Stark.

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1341269 2018-11-07T17:55:37Z 2018-12-21T22:31:05Z OtherPeoplesPixels Interviews Emily Budd

Hot Pants (from The Things We'll Carry), 2018. Cast aluminum. 21” x 2” x 18”

EMILY BUDD's cast sculptures explore the relationship between objects, humans and geologic time. Whether working in bronze, aluminum or conglomerations of concrete, plaster, paint, resin and found garbage, she reminds us that we are—right at this moment—in the process of becoming the fossils of the future. Emily earned her BFA in Sculpture at Miami University in Oxford, OH and her MFA at California College of the Arts in San Francisco. In 2018, she was an Artist-in-Residence at Recology (San Francisco), Salem Art Works (Salem, NY) and will be rounding out the year at Brush Creek Foundation for the Arts (Saratoga, WY). In September, she created a one-night installation at the Abandoned Railroad Station in Salem, New York titled The Exorcism of Emily Budd. Emily is currently based in the Bay Area.

OtherPeoplesPixels: What do you love about bronze as a medium and/or casting as a process? 

Emily Budd: Foundry casting techniques interest me by embodying both a traditional craft but also an evocative potential to address themes of time, loss, mimicry and fossilization in a contemporary context. I like this harmony of temporalities, and I regard the extensive process involved in getting there as a metaphor for a journey of transformation.

Water Bottles, 2017.

OPP: What role does stratification play in your work. I see it in the Water Bottles and the Artifictions

EB: I use layering to evoke geologic strata that to me, is also a creative record of time that is additive, liquid and dirty. That is how the earth and time tell their story, a diary using stratification as a language. In Artifictions and Water Bottles, I transformed garbage into imagined geologic matter, altering and stratifying it into molds made from discarded objects, as if formed eons beyond their use. 

Vulcan's Stockpile, 2018. Rebar, joint compound, graphite, plaster, concrete, paint, broken glass, caulk, epoxy, plastic, sand, grout, garbage. 42” x 18” x 34”

OPP: For the mold-making-challenged among us, can you explain lost-wax casting?

EB: Lost-wax casting is ancient but it stayed sexy. I love the exchange of liquid to solid, solid to liquid, heat and alchemy. You build a form in solid wax, and put a sturdy material around it such as a plaster or clay. Applied to heat, the plaster or clay hardens and yet the wax, like a candle, melts out in a designed escape plan. This is my favorite part of the process, and also the most anxiety-inducing because after the wax melts out, there is no sculpture. There is only a void left that the molten material can be poured into, recreating an exact copy of the original in durable metal.

OPP: What happens to the original sculptures after the metal version is made in works that use a different casting method? 

EB: That depends on the type of mold you make. In lost-wax, the wax melts out so you lose the wax form. There are variations on this process and strategies of using it in more experimental and modern ways. I have explored many different materials other than wax using the lost-wax process. I have burned out fruits and vegetables, seeds, wood, plant matter, garbage and textiles as a means to immortalize them, documenting their otherwise impermanent existence into long-lasting metal to ask deeper questions about the perception of time scales.

Cast Forward (Archway), 2018. Styrofoam, plastics, textiles and garbage cast in solid aluminum, steel rebar, plaster, iron oxide, ink. 59" x 96" x 22"

OPP: You were an Artist-in-Residence at Recology in 2018. Will you tell us about your experience at this unique residency? How did it affect your practice? 

EB: The Recology residency was really cool because you get access to the public dump and therefore anything discarded there. It makes you start looking at literally everything as a potential art material, even beyond the residency experience. I approached my trash-digging there thinking in terms of archaeology, imagining how our discarded materials will inform a future about our derived present.

Stalagmites, 2017. Aluminum. 22"-74" h, 5" -19" w/d

OPP: In Cast Forward, you shifted from bronze to cast aluminum. . . was this a practical, aesthetic or conceptual shift?

EB: Both bronze and aluminum have conceptual interest for me. Bronze is used in death memorials, grave markers, cremation urns and monuments, so it has this capability of retaining memory that is interesting to me when that is shifted. In my piece Lost Wax, I did a lost-wax burnout using a raw beehive honeycomb original to memorialize a potential future loss of bees. In Cast Forward, the aluminum, being lighter and cheaper, allowed me to realistically explore larger forms which I wouldn’t have been able to do in bronze. I also like how aluminum is newer and in a way tackier with its chrome-like reflection, like the more contemporary attitude of quick and cheap built environments. 

The Exorcism of Emily Budd, 2018. Cast iron, cast beeswax, found furniture pieces.

OPP: So what’s next? Any new directions in your studio?

EB: I’m developing a new body of work that I think will open up a lot more over the next year. I am collecting fossils and found objects and experimenting with various casting materials such as beeswax, iron and glass. I am reimagining post-apocalyptic tropes by designing artifacts that display a dissonance within our current world. Thinking out of context of time and place, I want to make objects that memorialize change and unknowability.

To see more of Emily's work, please visit emilybudd.com.

Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist  Stacia Yeapanis.  When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations.  She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006 Stacia was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at  BOLT in Chicago.  Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (Michigan 2013), Heaven Gallery (Chicago 2014), the Annex Gallery at Lillstreet Art Center (Chicago 2014), The Stolbun Collection (Chicago 2017) and Indianapolis Art Center (Indianapolis 2017) and Robert F. DeCaprio Art Gallery (Palos Hills, Illinois 2018). During summer 2018, Stacia created  Renunciation Reliquary as a one-night installation for Chicago Artist Coalition's annual benefit Work in Progress and was an Artist-in-Residence at Facebook. She is currently preparing for a solo show titled Practice, which will open in April 2019 at Kent State Stark.

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tag:blog.otherpeoplespixels.com,2013:Post/1335631 2018-10-24T18:53:32Z 2018-10-24T18:56:05Z Going strong after 7 years: Lilly McElroy

Did you know the OPP blog just turned seven-years-old at the end of August 2018? In honor of our birthday and the artists we feature, we'll be sharing some blasts from the past throughout the year. In this post and over the next few weeks, we'll share new work from Featured Artists interviewed in the first year of the blog. Today's artist is Lilly McElroy.

What's new in your practice, Lilly McElroy?


A Woman Runs Through A Pastoral Setting, 2014. Video.

Lilly McElroy: This was a surprisingly difficult question to answer. While the work has evolved and looks very different, I’m still dealing with some of the same issues that I was addressing when you first interviewed me in 2010.  My projects are still about the desire for connection and control, or perhaps, more accurately, those two things are still part of the work that I’m currently making. Humor and absurdity are also still big parts of my practice. I’m most comfortable when I can get the viewer to laugh, but my projects have become more wistful and darker. Now the laugh I’m hoping to elicit is one that is tinged with sadness. For example, I just filmed The Big Game, a video of a man chasing me through the woods while he plays Gary Glitter’s Rock and Roll Part II on the trombone. The video is funny, but it is also violent.  


Hopeful Romantic, 2011. Video. Duration: 3min 59 sec.

Nature or images of nature are present in my current work. Even though I’m still interested in making work about connection and the desire for connection, I’ve stopped making social work. I’m no longer approaching strangers and asking them to participate in my projects. Instead I’m using the landscape. In 2011, I made a video called Hopeful Romantic for which I drove across the country and played Bruce Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark to the American landscape. This was the first project that didn’t involve any social interaction. I was alone for the drive and I was alone in the video. This video lead to other non-interactive works that involve the landscape. 

I Control The Sun #18, 2016. Archival Pigment Print 40" x 40."

My ongoing photo project, I Control The Sun is a series of photos of my arm jutting out into the landscape as I attempt to grasp the sun. I make a photograph every time I enter a new geographic location and have been working on the project since 2013. On their own, the photographs are beautiful and allow me to indulge in making pretty pictures. However, when you view them as a grid of images the repetition becomes obvious and that creates a sense of desperation. I’ve also spent the last year working on a project called Sanding Away A Year’s worth of Sunsets for which I printed out 365 8" x10” photographs of the same sunset, stacked them together, and have been laboriously sanding away the image of the sun by hand. I sand for an hour a day and the stack is 4” thick. The longer I work on the project, the harder it becomes to sand and the less I am able to accomplish in that hour. The project is also changing my body.  I keep having to reset the finger print id on my phone because the sand paper I’m using is scratching up my skin. The process feels ridiculous, but is producing an object that records the effects of my labor. At the end, the viewer will see a stack of photographs whose main subject has been scratched out.  

Hour 1 & Hour 100 fromSanding Away a Year's Worth of Sunsets, 2018.

So, duration, repetition and process have become components in my practice. Another change is the fact that I’ve started using objects and images both as stand-ins for my body and as characters in my work. I think I’ve missed being behind the camera. I also like the way objects bring additional meaning into work and are so easy to anthropomorphize. In Let’s Dance, a cactus riding a Roomba moves around a balloon that is tied to a rock and is being blown around by two fans. The two characters, the cactus and the balloon, dance around one another until they are both destroyed. It is both funny and heartbreaking.  


Let's Dance, 2018. Video. Duration: 4min 34sec.

The biggest shift in my practice, however, is the collaborative project that I’m currently working on with the artist Christopher Carroll. After years of helping each other film videos and make photographs, Christopher suggested that we make work together. Our project, I’m here. Now What? focuses on our relationship with and feelings of alienation from the natural world. It began with the construction of a simple stage in the woods in Maine. On the stage, we performed actions and filmed them. In a segment of the video, I treated an image of the landscape as a romantic hero and posed with it as though we were on the cover of a romance novel. In another segment, Christopher utilized a drone to explore the surrounding woods while he remained seated on the stage. The project keeps expanding. In the summer of 2017, we held a performative screening on the stage during which Christopher used a hunting tree stand to scale up a tree and play the cello. This summer, we decided to move away from the stage and explore the surrounding woods. The exploration began when we destroyed the stage with axes as seen in our video, Chop. This collaboration has helped expand my practice and opened me up to new ways of working. It allows for experimentation. I’ve never utilized drawing or mark making in my practice, but after chopping up the stage we made a gravestone rubbing of the wreckage. That act and the resulting drawing were exciting for me.

CHOP. 2018.

Read Lilly's 2010 interview.

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