Inheritance: In Memory of American Glass, 2016, Ditmas Avenue stop, F subway line, Brooklyn
Inspired by craft objects and folk art, CARA LYNCH is staunchly
opposed to aesthetic elitism. She embraces surface embellishment and
pattern in sculpture, print and public works. She taps into the
devotional power of heavily-encrusted talismans, while celebrating the visual pleasure of rhinestones, feathers, beads and glitter.
In 2012, Cara earned her BFA in Studio Art with a Minor Art History at
Adelphi University (Garden City, New York). Since then, she has studied
Printmaking at Columbia University, Papermaking at the Women's Studio Workshop in Rosendale, New York and Advanced Sculpture at Hunter College. Cara recently closed her solo show Love Tokens and Talismans, supported by Queens Arts Council Grant, at Local Project (Long
Island City, Queens). In spring 2016, she installed her first
permanent, public work for the NYC Metropolitan Transit Authority at
Ditmas Avenue stop of F subway line in Brooklyn. Cara lives in New York,
New York.
OtherPeoplesPixels: Tell us about your
research into the “sailor’s valentines, mourning jewelry, memoryware,
kitschy trinkets, and historical amulets or talismans” that informed
your recent body of work called Love Tokens and Talismans.
Cara Lynch:
I have an interest in those things that are not traditionally included
in the fine art world: craft objects and processes and folk art. I am
interested in why we make things and the purposes and power of these
objects. I see the embrace of these traditional crafts as a political
statement when included in a fine art context or conceptualized in this
way.
While my research for this particular body of work
initially began viewing images online, I also spent time at the New York
Public Library looking through books of reliquaries and walking through
the Met looking at various ceremonial and talismanic objects. I spent
time at the Morbid Anatomy Museum
in Brooklyn, pouring over their incredible collection of books on
mourning jewelry and love tokens. Many of the forms I created are
directly influenced by these objects, but my main interest is in the
traditions and functions of these objects: to memorialize experiences,
express devotion or provide protection or good luck.
You're Tacky & I Hate You, 2016. Cast hydrocal, rhinestones, feathers, paint, wood, hardware. 12.5 x 15 x 3 inches
OPP: How do these influence manifest in your sculptures? What are you loving, mourning, remembering or warding off in this work?
CL:
I grew up very Catholic, and I am very interested in how objects become
symbolic or get their power. For Catholics, the Eucharist, rosaries and
other sacred objects are given their power by the beliefs of the
faithful. In some other religions, this is not the case; the power
becomes inherent in the object itself. As artists, we are granted a
certain power through our making of objects. In many ways, making
becomes our faith.
The sculptures are very much about my own
experience, mourning the passage of time and struggling with the reality
that we can’t always attain our desires, whether for physical objects
or for abstract experiences, like equality or affirmation or holding on
to the present. The pieces combine casts replicating a number of objects
I’ve saved from my childhood or collected from trim stores along my
walk to work through the garment district in New York. I am
memorializing my own experience through these pieces, as well as
empowering the “non-elite” in some way.
There is tension
expressed in these objects: between high and low, art and craft, class
and taste, sentiment and spectacle. By embracing the decorative and the
domestic—newer pieces sometimes include casts from copper cake pans—I
hope to grant power to myself and to all women. By embracing “low,”
craft materials, and elevating them in some way, I am making a political
statement for the working class and challenging “high art” and academic
aversions to the decorative. By creating beautiful objects, I make my
fantasies attainable in some sense.
Fetter Better, 2016. Detail. Cast hydrocal, found ornament, chain, glitter, paint, iridescent pigment, wood, hardware. 10 x 20 x 5 inches
OPP: Your talismans are cast hydrocal, embellished with
automotive paint, spray paint, glitter, faux pearls, rhinestones,
chains, and tassels. It’s visually hard to separate the solid, cast
object from it’s surface embellishment. Can you talk about these two
distinct parts of the process: casting a solid substrate versus
embellishing it?
CL: I am very interested in
embellishment and the decorative. I think this stems from my interest in
both thinking about desire and devotional objects. The solid cast
objects are kind of funny, because they really are embellishments
themselves, made more concrete and solid through a transformation of
material. Embellishing the transformed embellishment seemed to be really
aggressively decorative or feminine—a little like overkill and kind of
funny to me.
Casts are also reminiscent of memories. They are a
replication, an attempt to reproduce. The embellishment allows me to put
this sentiment in tension with other interests. I am able to temper the
feminine quality with a little bit of masculinity, for example, through
the application of automotive paint.
Sex and the City, 2014. Archival handmade paper (pulp painting). 20 x 30 inches
OPP: Your pulp paintings appear to be speaking the same
language as painting, drawing or print, but these designs are actually
part of the substrate, not added to the substrate. Can you briefly
explain the process for those not in the know about paper-making
techniques?
CL: Paper-making is a really amazing process.
Plant based fibers are beaten into a wet pulp, then suspended in water
and caught on a screen to form a sheet. Pulp can also be pigmented and
“painted” with. Essentially, you are creating an image with a very
physical material itself in various colors, rather than with paint, ink
or pencil. It has a temperament of its own.
To create the colors
and patterns in this series, I pigmented the actual pulp in separate
batches. The various hues of pulp were stenciled and layered onto wet
sheets of freshly pulled paper, building up in some areas more than
others. After working on a wet piece for some time, It would be pressed,
combining layers of material into one flat sheet. In this way, the
patterns are part of the actual paper, not applied to the surface.
Pennants for the Working Class, 2016. Screenprint on felt flags, brass grommets, craft materials. Variable, each measuring 10 x 16 inches
OPP: In Pennants for the Working Class (2016), you’ve transplanted the “patterns derived from American household glass objects, including depression glass,
carnival glass, and early American pressed glass,” from utilitarian,
three-dimensional objects onto the flat surface of the flag, which has a
more symbolic function. Can you talk about the functions of pattern in
general and how you use it in your work?
CL: Pattern can draw attention to an object, create a tensions between surface and object, or refer to something beyond itself. In my work, pattern often symbolizes something beyond my initial interest in surface and decoration. In many works, I am referring to histories behind the patterns. In this case specifically, I see the patterns from these glass objects as symbols of the American dream. These patterns were found on glass objects that were highly affordable, widely available and also really beautiful. This is in contrast to their predecessor, cut crystal, which was only available to the wealthy. For this piece in general, I was really thinking of the pennant flag as a symbol of prestige and pride, borrowed from the vernacular of yacht clubs and ivy-league universities.
Pretty Bomb, 2016. Lithograph. 22 x 15 inches
OPP: Earlier, you mentioned “academic aversions to the
decorative.” Why do you think this aversion exists? Have you noticed a
sea change in the last 5 years?
CL: I think this academic aversion to decoration and beauty is tied to a
classist and sexist system. Higher education in the arts was sought
partially to professionalize art making. The way artists did this was to
become very "serious" about their work, substantiating it with theory
and criticism. View points other than the dominant, historically-male—rooted in theory, science, knowledge—were left out of the
picture. As Duchamp said, "artistic delectation is the danger to be
avoided." This kind of thinking was perpetuated through the discourse,
banishing beauty (and consequently, a slew of other things) from the
presiding conversation. To some extent, beauty
itself is a social construct, defined by social class, taste, gender,
and a number of other factors. But this is all really interesting! I
feel like we should be embracing it, instead of shutting it out.
