Tuesday, July 30, 2024

The Art of Collage at Second Street Gallery

I have shared thoughts both about success and about rejection from juried shows, so I thought it would be fitting to share images from a recent juried show success that I had. I applied to be part of a collage show at Second Street Gallery last year, and The Art of Collage curated/juried by gallery director Kristen Chiacchia was the result of that call for work.

I was especially pleased to be included as one of 13 Featured Artists among the show's 41 total artists. There were so many interesting details in the many works included, images truly do not do them justice, but I will provide additional links if you want to learn more about the exhibition and some of the artists. 

All installation images are by Stacey Evans.


Works on the left wall are by (from left): Jonathan Lee, Sharon Shapiro, Blythe King, Hannah Diomataris


Artists from left: me, Sri Kodakalla, Zofie King, Lisa Macchi




Artists from left: various (see Second Street's list of participating artists), Cassie Guy, Richard Alonzo, Laura Wooten, me, Sri Kodakalla, Zofie King




Foreground image by Kay Vass Darling




The show was up from June 7th through July 19th.

Part of celebrating success is sharing it with others, so thank you for coming along as I practice sharing and taking up space here on the blog.

Wednesday, June 26, 2024

6 + 1 Questions with Yasemin Kaçkar-Demirel


I have a love/hate relationship with social media. I sort of expect that most people do, to some degree. The love part of my own relationship with Instagram comes primarily from my connections with other artists. I’m drawn to the generosity of artists who share the bits and pieces of their studio practices, their successes and their failures, the consistency of their work ethic, and the small glimpses into their day-to-day, non-studio lives. I’m well aware of the ability of the grammable image to deceive or to self-mythologize. Instagram, like all things, has changed since I joined in 2014 and the algorithmic suppression of lower-profile, emerging artists is a major disappointment. That said, I am still thankful enough for the relationships that I’ve been able to maintain over the years, as well as the new, online ones that I’ve been lucky to develop.

 

One such artist who keeps my Instagram adoration afloat is the Hudson Valley-based artist, Yasemin Kaçkar-Demirel.  Although we have never met in person, our work has been included in two physical exhibitions together: "18", a group exhibition of 18 abstract artists at the Janice Charach Gallery in suburban Detroit AND "Painting at Night", organized by Artist/Mother Podcast and juried by my friend (and phenomenal artist) Allison Reimus. I was immediately smitten with Kaçkar-Demirel’s ability to work with a variety of two- and three-dimensional materials (oil paint, embroidery, insulation foam, yarn, etc., etc.) while maintaining her own consistent voice and vision. The irregular, highly specific shapes within her abstractions bring to mind land masses, geographical boundaries and islands. Her work, however, resists many boundaries within traditional painting and incorporates chance as part of her making process. Kaçkar-Demirel often uses found materials and accidental stains, the detritus and residual marks of the painting practice, as a means of reflecting on the mutability of natural and human-made landscapes.

 

In the interview below, Kaçkar-Demirel discusses both Susanna Clarke’s 2020 novel, Piranesi, as well as the novel’s eponym, the 18th century, Italian artist and architect, Giovanni Battista Piranesi. Known for his layered etchings of inescapable, imagined prisons, Pirenesi’s interior worlds border on abstraction. We lose the ability to discern direction. Conventional depictions of reality crumble. In "Two dots or lavender clouds", one of Kaçkar-Demirel’s more frenetic, mixed-media works, I feel immersed in the same sort of disorienting un-reality evoked by Clarke’s novel and Piranesi’s prison etchings. The linear, embroidered paths lead my eye around the surface, diligently mapping both the stains and deliberately applied areas of paint. The tracks seem to weave and retrace their steps, linking explosions of paint, cyanotype prints and areas of camouflaged stitching.  In spite of the crystallographic balance, the elements push centrifugally outward, bending and distorting the edges with their delicate and persistent force.

 

Through July 17, 2024, you can find Kaçkar-Demirel’s work in ‘Scapes, a group show at Elisa Contemporary Art gallery in Riverdale, NY. She will also have work included in Peep Space’s 2024-2025 Flat Files program, with an opening exhibition in Fall 2024. Kaçkar-Demirel will be spending the summer in Bodrum, Turkiye where she will develop and experiment with mixed media works on paper, involving relief structures, blockprints and cyanotypes.

 

Thank you, Yasemin, for your generous and insightful responses and your willingness to share a peek into your studio practice. Here’s to an in-person meeting at some point in the future!🍻

Yasemin Kaçkar-Demirel, Leap island, 2022, fragment of paint palette, insulation foam, modeling compound, acrylic and oil paint, 8 x 9 x 1 1/8 inches



1. What’s your sign? If you are astrologically inclined, feel free to give your Sun/Moon/Rising. Do you identify with the characteristics of your sign(s)?


Both my Sun and Rising sign are Sagittarius. My Moon sign is Aquarius. I do identify with their characteristics in the sense that I consider myself free-spirited and try to avoid getting tangled in possessive relationships or restrictive environments. I have a curious nature, a love for learning new things, and eclectic interests. I enjoy traveling and exploring places, as well as testing materials and taking risks in my studio. While I generally have a joyful and lively disposition, there is also an introverted, introspective side of me that is very emotion and intuition driven. I feel quasi-comfortable within groups or crowds, and definitely prefer more intimate, one on one interactions. I like to think of myself as being quite observant and I enjoy listening rather than talking. I have a highly romantic side too but in a very down-to-earth kind of way.

 

Yasemin Kaçkar-Demirel, Wonder of a ruin, 2024, oil on oil paper, 12x 9 inches

2. What is your morning routine?

I have to say that I do not follow a strict routine. It tends to change frequently especially depending on the season. But a typical morning involves preparing my son for school and after sending him off, I brew some coffee. I briefly check my e-mails and Instagram. I take some time to greet the nature outside of my window. I pick a poetry book from my library and read at random, taking notes of any verses that resonate with me. I also recently began practicing meditation with an online community in real time. After it ends, I step in to my studio which is in the basement of my home. I start by spending some time planning my tasks for the day, and organizing the physical space. I make dance movements and stretch my body. Depending on the season, I incorporate outside walks to my morning-to-noon routine as well.



Yasemin Kaçkar-Demirel, Two dots or lavender clouds, 2022, paint stains and paint residues, hand embroidery, cyanotype on fabric, dye, on found textile

3. Have you ever cried in front of an artwork? If so, what was it?

 

I cannot think of a time that I cried, but I do get chills, teary-eyed or awestruck very frequently when I view artworks. Some specific moments stand out, especially from my youth. The first one might be a cliché for some, but the first ever artwork I remember that astonished me was Michaelangelo’s fresco in The Sistine Chapel. I was in middle school, visiting Italy with my mother. Seeing the figures so masterfully executed on the ceiling had a profound impact on me then. I wanted to reach out to the ‘Hands of God and Adam’. I was drawn to the delicacy, fragility and emotion of the hand gesture. Likewise, seeing the similar effect on the Pietá sculpture, the marble absorbing and projecting the emotion of grief and compassion was equally thrilling. Another memory is when I had visited the archeological site of the ancient city of Ephesus near Izmir, Turkiye. Walking on the marble stones on the site, the statues, the amphitheater, the infamous façade of the library and the promenade of columns have since been feeding my fascination with structural remnants and interest in transformation, bridging the past and the future by making art in the present moment. One last memory I would like to mention was on the very first day I entered my alma mater Mimar Sinan University in Istanbul as an undergraduate student. I was teary-eyed seeing the sunlight shine on the replica of the Hellenistic statue of Niké, known as the Winged Victory of Samothrace.


Yasemin Kaçkar-Demirel, Décollage, 2023, oil and oil stick on linen, 16 x 12 inches

4. What are you reading now? (You can also include what you’ve read lately, as well as what you are listening to, watching, etc.)

 

I am currently reading Piranesi, by Susanne Clarke. I was intrigued by its title because I love Piranesi’s architecture drawings and especially his series of intricate etchings called Carceri (prisons). Hence, I am quite attracted to the novel’s utopic labyrinth like setting, perhaps an island with its layered structure, halls full of statues, water flowing throughout and vestibules. The mysterious plot where new characters emerge through a quest for a ‘distributary’ world, sustains my interest. Before this book, I listened to the audiobook of A Wizard of Earthsea, the first one in a series by Ursula Le Guin, which, similar to Piranesi, followed a character’s quest to attain magic through journeys to various islands. I tend to forget the details of what I read over time, but a quote, a feeling or a description of a setting generally stays with me. Currently, I am also listening to the audiobook of Life with Picasso by Françoise Gilot and Carlton Lake. I find Gilot’s insightful account of their complex relationship with Picasso and conversations about paintings and processes within their circuit of prominent art figures interesting and useful. I have the hard copy as well but since I am a slow reader I gain more momentum by listening to the audiobook.

As for music, I am presently listening to Erlend Oye’s new album La Comitiva, Céu and the new single Like I say (I runaway) by Nilufer Yanya.


5.  Tell us four truths about yourself and one lie:

             

a. I sometimes dance in my head as if I am creating a mental choreography
b. I am left-handed but I recently became aware that I have a better tendency to dribble
basketball and iron with my right hand.          .    
c. When I was in college in Istanbul, I sang ‘It is only a Paper Moon’ at a jazz music festival.    
   
d. I love wall tennis and paddle boarding.           
e. I prefer text messaging or facetiming rather than talking on the phone.

 

Yasemin Kaçkar-Demirel, Autumnal ascend, 2023, yarn and vinyl paint on monk’s cloth, 25 x 20 inches

 

6. This is the wild card question. What do you listen to in the studio? Does what you’re listening to change the way that you make your work?

 

I strongly believe that all I hear, see, listen to or experience have their way of seeping into my work. The music I listen to depends largely on my mood and the kind of mediums and process I am engaged with in the studio. While I cannot say that listening to music changes my work in a concrete and representational way, listening to a variety of genres certainly inspires me to save my paint palettes and paint rags to use them as a source to generate collages, blockprints, sculptures and textile works. Similar to noticing variations of sounds, harmonies, melody and rhythm in music, I regard my painting practice as a conduit of possibilities expanding in tandem with a multitude of mediums. When I am painting with oils, I tend to listen to instrumental music or with minimal lyrics, such as jazz, opera, classical or indie/electronic and ambient music, to cultivate concentration. For this purpose, I prefer rhythmic, improvisational or repetitive tunes.


At other times, I simply prefer the sound of silence, or some tunes intrinsically pop up in my head and I find myself listening to them while painting. When I am making mixed media drawings or collages, I choose songs with lyrics which can be very eclectic, from Brit Pop to Radiohead. When I am doing mostly slower paced or rhythmically repetitive tasks like priming or shaping a sculpture, rughooking or embroidery, I pick podcasts, audiobooks, and talk shows in English and in Turkish on Youtube. Some favorite podcasts are Ariacode, On Being, Poetry Unbound and Sound and Vision.


I also like listening to interpretations of well-known pieces such as Pink Martini’s take on Ravel’s Bolero or Jacques Louissier’s take on Bach suites. Growing up in Istanbul, I acquired an affinity to a wide range of musical genres including nostalgic French and Italian songs, musicals, jazz, and classical music, as well as Turkish music from Alaturka to pop. While listening to music, I feel as though a sound space gets transmitted to my painting. This space releases an atmospheric quality inviting me into a subconscious state similar to the structural cues and traces of places I observed transform and dissolve into what I call a beyond space. I have been thinking about this beyond space lately, where remains of places dissipate, memories wilt, end and begin again, continue as angles, lines, gestures, as a new realm within sea, sky and land. By maneuvering the paint through sound and intuition, I observe the work becoming a welcoming container to what arises. I love this aspect of abstraction in music and in painting coinciding, proposing open-ended directions, sensations and unleashing obscurity for the work.  Aside from sound and rhythm, a lyric or a verse in a song or poem can evoke a feeling that I contemplate which can later end up as a title to a work.

 

7. What other artist(s) would you like to see answer these questions?

 

Sarah Arriagada, Seher Erdogan, Niki Kriese, Ashley Garret, Melissa Capasso.

 


Born in Istanbul in 1978, Kackar-Demirel received her MFA from Northern Illinois University, and her BFA from Mimar Sinan University, Istanbul, Turkiye. She has had solo exhibitions at The Yard: City Hall Park, (NYC), Mooney Center Gallery of The College of New Rochelle, (NY), C.A.M. Gallery, (Istanbul, Turkey), Courthouse Gallery of Lake George Arts Project, (Lake George, NY), and McLean County Arts Center, (Bloomington, IL), including her virtual exhibition with Laura A. Sprague Gallery of Joliet Junior College, (Joliet, IL), among other venues. Her works have been exhibited in group shows across the United States as well as internationally in Turkey, Italy, Israel and including KinoSaito in Verplanck, NY, the High Line Nine Galleries in NYC with Visionary Projects and at Ortega y Gasset Projects in Brooklyn, NY. She attended the residency programs at The Bischhoff Inn in Tamaqua, PA, School Of Visual Arts in NYC and AreaOdeon in Monza, Italy. She is a recipient of Moon and Stars Project’s Exhibition Award. Her work has been featured in various catalogs and periodicals including Friend of the Artist, Dovetail, New American Paintings, New Visionary Magazine and Fresh Paint and was included in the online curated registries of The Drawing Center, All She Makes and in the Flat File 2021 Program at Collar Works. She lives and works in Lower Hudson Valley, New York.

@yaseminkackardemirel
www.yaseminkackar.com

All images courtesy of the artist.

Wednesday, June 12, 2024

Reflecting on Rejection: Two Reasons We're Not Getting Into Juried Shows



When you submit work to a juried show and it gets declined, do you check out the show after it’s up (either online or in person)? Or is your attitude more along the lines of trying to forget about the rejection letter and moving on to other things?

For as long as I have been applying for shows, my feelings aligned with the latter, and I didn’t see much value in dwelling on what felt like missed opportunities. In the last couple of years, I’ve gotten curious about jurors’ and curators’ tastes and what work fits what they’re looking for, and why my work sometimes has not.


Assuming that we are meeting the basic entry requirements for a show (providing excellent images of strong work, fitting our statements into word count limits, etc.), there are two main reasons I’ve noticed for why my (and probably also your own) work hasn’t been included in juried shows. One of them may surprise you.


The least surprising reason for a rejection: the work doesn’t fit with the whole of the show. This can be a case of “the juror just didn’t like it,” but it can also be more subtle, relating to slight formal or conceptual mismatches. One of the first things I look for when I am trying to figure out why my work didn’t get into a show is the exhibition’s overall formal vibe; often, my colorful, graphic work presents a glaring contrast to a group of work that has softer edges or more muted colors. 


Conceptual mismatches can be harder to pinpoint, and if a juror provides a statement about their selections, this is helpful. I recently submitted work that was declined from a ‘nature’ themed show, and even after reading the juror’s statement and viewing the accepted work, I was struggling to determine why my work was not a fit. I was about to chalk it up to “they just didn’t like it,” (which may also have been the case) when I finally realized that all of the works in the show were speaking to broader topics relating to the natural world, like climate change, sustainability, etc., while my work instead presents a quirky microcosm that is more about a single moment in time. 


After I realized this, it seemed obvious, but it can be difficult to consider our work objectively. This kind of thinking is valuable, because considering why our work isn’t included in a show can point us towards contexts that will be a better fit.


A more surprising reason for our work’s rejection from a show: our work is already in the show. By this, I mean there is work included in the show that is visually very similar to ours. “Very” is subjective and sometimes hard to determine because we are able to attune to all the ways our work stands out that may not be as apparent to a juror, especially when they have just viewed 599 other applications. In this case, there may also be something else in the application packet that gives the selected work a leg up. For example, if CV’s are part of the application requirements, the selected artist’s CV may be more developed than our own.


This happened to me several years ago, when I noted in a group show I had been rejected from work that, like my own, was very colorful, with graphic edges and lots of patterns. However, I knew this artist’s name and was even familiar with curatorial projects they had developed. It was easy to see that while my work might have filled the same visual slot as this artist’s, their more prestigious CV could add value to the group exhibition in a way that mine could not.


It is always disappointing to get a rejection letter for an opportunity that we want, but if we take the time to consider the larger picture of where our work fits (or doesn’t) and why, we may* be able to pick better suited opportunities going forward. 



*To some degree, applying for things is always a roll of the dice. But we only have a chance at getting the things that we do apply for.



Saturday, May 25, 2024

6 + 1 Questions with Marie B. Gauthiez

In Four Lost Cities: A Secret History of the Urban Age, author Annalee Newitz writes about the Neolithic city of Çatalhöyük, one of the world’s oldest urban areas. Newitz unravels the relationship between personal identity and place, as well as public and private iterations of the self. According to Newitz, prior to settling down, nomadic Homo sapiens didn’t have a real conception of privacy. Identity was defined by one’s ancestral lineage rather than ties to a specific location. The aesthetic and symbolic components within the structure of this ancient city are also fascinating. Buried in the plastered walls are the skulls, teeth and claws of wild animals, some protruding out of the plaster and painted in bright colors. Over the course of their inhabitation, the homes within the city were perpetually cared for and rebuilt, each reconstruction burying the past under new layers of plaster, ash and clay. The walls and floors of the city are like palimpsests, hiding and revealing narratives of ancient human life.
I find compelling visual and conceptual similarities between Marie B. Gauthiez’ installation Self-portrait as palimpsest and Newitz’ description of Çatalhöyük. For one, Gauthiez’ work also investigates the relationship between identity and place, personal history and memory, using the wall as a metaphor to understand self-hood. Not just any wall, Gauthiez’ installation evokes a living space, albeit a deconstructed one. Additionally, Self-portrait as palimpsest incorporates material both on the surface of and within the constructed walls. Operating as a three-dimensional painting that references both the hard-edged clarity of geometric abstraction and an ecstatic material glut associated with the expanded field of painting, Gauthiez’ work uses the language of home renovation to explore how the physical boundaries that surround us can hold up a mirror to who we are.
Gauthiez’ materials list is expansive. In her work, traditional painting elements coincide with materials associated with home construction and interior décor. Self-portrait as palimpsest uses drywall, wooden studs, metal gridwall panels, plaster and latex paint aesthetically as well as contextually, and the materials are exposed rather than hidden. Expanses of stained canvas, wallpaper and fabric curtains create a layered, tactile (yet somehow still ephemeral) facade. Glazed ceramic shards are tucked within the nooks and crannies and fragments of patterns and images peer out of crumbling holes in the drywall. More often than not, the shallow windows within the piece give way to more walls underneath. Although her work does not veer head-on into the space of performance (thinking here of Corin Hewitt’s 2013 performative installation, The Hedge, at The Museum of Contemporary Art Cleveland, where Hewitt continued to manipulate the installation throughout the duration of the show), Gauthiez’ work resists stillness and promotes a kind of close, active looking, both encouraging and rewarding our efforts to look around and through, up and down, outward and inward. 
Marie B. Gauthiez completed her MFA from American University in May 2024. Her thesis work was recently exhibited in Surface Tension: The Visible and the Hidden at The Katzen Museum at American University and in Threads at 52 O Street Open Studios in Washington, DC. 👇Read the interview for more about Marie and her upcoming projects👇 💐Thanks a million to Marie, for sharing this peek into your mind and studio practice!!💐

⧫⧫⧫

Marie B. Gauthiez, Self-portrait as palimpsest, mixed media installation, 2024
Photo credit: Pete Duvall
 


1.  What’s your sign? If you are astrologically inclined, feel free to give your Sun/Moon/Rising. Do you identify with the characteristics of your sign(s)?
 
I am Capricorn, with the moon in Sagittarius, and rising Capricorn. I have always been fascinated by astrology, but I don’t know that much about it. When I was a child, my aunt gave me a little book on Capricorns that explained all the characteristics of the sign. I poured over it, thinking it held answers to so many questions. I am practical, sensitive, ambitious, enthusiastic, persistent, and protective. One thing that comes up is the idea that within my Rising in Capricorn “you feel like something is missing, and you won’t stop searching for it”. This is uncanny because this is truly how I feel about my practice. I am actively searching through the work. I like the idea that we are ruled by those bigger bodies that are planets and that it only shows our interconnectedness to the vast universe, but I also believe in our own agency and psychological strength to redress our negative traits. 

 
Marie B. Gauthiez, Self-portrait as palimpsest (detail), mixed media installation, 2024
Photo credit: Pete Duvall


2.  What is your morning routine?

I have always been amazed by the American idea of the “miracle morning”. Get up at 5 am every morning and be super productive. Sadly, it doesn’t work for me. I just have to be productive during normal sun hours! My ideal morning is tea while my kids have breakfast, shower and pack lunches, sending kids off to school with good vibes, and arriving at the studio by 9:15 am. Nothing fancy or athletic. I tried Julia Cameron’s morning pages for a while but it was just too brutal to force myself to get up early enough to write in peace.

 
Marie B. Gauthiez, Self-portrait as palimpsest (detail), mixed media installation, 2024

 
3. Have you ever cried in front of an artwork? If so, what was it?

That happened to me last week! I went to the National Portrait Gallery with two of my MFA colleagues, Pooja Campbell and Connor Gagne, and my professor Kyle Hackett. We wandered in the Fold and Self-taught Art Galleries. Connor and I stopped in front of a strange sculpture of stuffed denim pants, bucket with holes in lieu of head, torso missing, seating on a rugged wooden chair. From afar, it was unassuming. The wall text however gave it a context that made us reevaluate the work: The artist, Hawkins Bolden (1914-2005) was blinded in a childhood accident. He took to sculpting, creating scarecrow-like sentinels to protect the family’s vegetable garden. It triggered so many emotions in my heart and tears came up. I imagined this child feeling the world with his hands, building up shapes through touch but also through his visual memories. Instead of recoiling from making, he hung to his creativity with purpose: protecting. As an artist, I wonder how do you see the world through your hands? As a parent, I can only imagine the tragedy of raising a blind child, the worry, the adjustment, the loss. It was amazing to enter his world for just a little bit through those projections. I admire artists that can trigger emotional reactions and transport you instantly. It just goes to show how connected and empathetic humans are and it is a “movement” that is worth working towards. I wonder if his art should be experienced only by touch. Are we restricted by our visual sense?

 
 
Gauthiez' photo of Hawkins Bolden's Untitled, 1987
 
 

4. What are you reading now? (You can also include what you’ve read lately, as well as what you are listening to, watching, etc.)


I am reading too many books at once. Books are emotional support objects for me. I have books in different places for different activities. Amy Sillman’s collection of essays called “faux pas” is currently in the bag that I carry every day. I am enjoying her witty prose so much and I am mining the book for insight and wisdom. It is also very informative, and I am using it for the classes I teach at the Washington Studio School. It took me time to get into “The Great Believers” by Rebecca Makkai but I really enjoyed the second half. This fiction novel is about the AIDS crisis in Chicago, about chasing a hypothetical art collection and an estranged daughter. It is heavy, but essential to remember how inhumane the US were to the gay community as the disease started infecting people. The human losses were astounding, the agony implacable, the shame so thick. The novel also follows a photographer who documents the epidemic and who later becomes a super star in the art world of the 2000’s. I liked that the writer included this character as I believe artists are important witnesses of our societies and can shift mentalities through their works. I admire the bravery it demands. I just started “Wrong is not my name” by Erica N. Cardwell which weaves personal memoirs and art criticism through the works of Black artists. She explores loss and the healing powers of art through art, which really speaks to my own practice. Through her writing style, I feel very grounded in her experience. Can’t wait to read more!


 
Marie B. Gauthiez, Self-portrait as palimpsest (detail), mixed media installation, 2024
 
 
5.  Tell us four truths about yourself and one lie:



         a. I was born in France
         b. I love open water scuba diving
         c. Hypnosis helped me overcome my fear of driving
         d. I met the Balinese healer from “Eat, Pray, Love”
         e. His predictions all came true

 

Marie B. Gauthiez, Wall 2, Mixed media on wood panel and metal, 2024
Photo credit: Pete Duvall

 
6. This is the wild card question. You have a lot of experience teaching art to children. Has this experience impacted your personal work at all? How so?


In 2019, my friend Patricia Baca invited to me teach at her studio called Mango Street in Washington DC. It triggered a love of visual research and an interest in pedagogy. I feel it is my duty to pass on my love of art and my reverence for the process. I remember teaching a class on Louise Bourgeois to a group of elementary kids. I showed them how she drew spirals, either with a starting point from the inside or from the outside. It was a simple practice exercise. A mom later told me that her son recreated the activity for his birthday party because he was so excited about what he learned. The fact that a connection could travel all the way from Bourgeois’s own work, to how I personally responded to it, down to that kid’s birthday party amazed me. You can learn from the best teachers without even have met them. Observe the work, understand it, make it your own. More than anything, I enjoy the fact that I can talk about art with my own two children. They just want to draw like they want, what they want and when they want (aka back off mommy!). Drawing is play to them, freedom and therapy. They are unencumbered by theory and rules. I like that. They just need supplies and encouragement. We spend so much time as adult-artists wrestling with rigid voices in our heads or trying to recreate this self-generated creativity that I don’t want to force anything on them. Becoming a mom and experiencing the pandemic with two young children stuck at home helped me understand how crucial MAKING was to me and that the practice had to adjust to the environment, not the other way around. It was never about the time or the space, all those bad excuses, it was always about the will, the desire, the survival. I think about that a lot.

 
 
Marie B. Gauthiez, Wall Fragments, mixed media installation (in dialog with Lindsay Muellers drawings), 2024
Photo credit: Pete Duvall


7. What other artist(s) would you like to see answer these questions?


Reem Bassous
Kyle Hackett
Julia Reising
Cora Olson
Patricia Baca

 
Not really an official question, but do you have anything else you’d like to share? Anything you’re excited about in the studio, upcoming shows, publications, events, etc.?
 
I am graduating this week and I am bracing myself for the unknown of the next phase, working diligently in the studio on my wall fragments – little brick-like panels that proliferate on walls- and to be working in the clay studio at LAC on new sculptural pieces for my mixed media works as well as developing thoughtful content for my classes at the Washington Studio School. I guess that is still a lot but I am excited about a less stressful schedule. Graduate school, work, family and basic self-care were a lot to juggle those past two years. Many artists have visited my studio those past two years, generously sharing their thoughts, energy with me and I am looking forward to return the favor! So if you are an artist based in or around DC and need someone to look at your work, feel free to reach out! 
Photo credit: Taylor Sizemore


Marie B Gauthiez is a multi-disciplinary French-American artist who makes work about mapping of the self, reconstruction, preservation and identity. Marie received her MFA in Studio Art from American University (’24). She is a faculty member at the Washington Studio School in Washington DC. Recently Marie has co-curated an MFA invitational exhibition called ‘Holding Hands, Holding Space” in the Katzen Center (Washington, DC). Marie has participated in Art Night “Homegrown” at the National Gallery of Art in 2023. She was awarded the Van Swearingen Merit Award, the Catharina Baart Biddle Award and the Carol Bird Ravenal Art Award. She has exhibited in group shows at Soft Times Gallery (San Francisco), Studio Gallery (Washington DC), Brentwood Arts Exchange (MD), the Anacostia Arts Center (DC), the Katzen Art Center (DC), Blue Mountain Gallery (NYC), Pyramid Atlantic (MD). Marie holds a BA in applied languages from Paris 10-Nanterre and an MA in Fashion Business from ESMOD Paris. She lives with her husband and two children in Northern Virginia.

mariebgauthiez.com
IG @mariebgauthiez

All images courtesy of the artist.

The Art of Collage at Second Street Gallery

I have shared thoughts both about success and about rejection from juried shows , so I thought it would be fitting to share images from a r...