Artist Interview: Cameron Harvey

Today we're sharing a conversation with artist Cameron Harvey. Cameron Harvey is an artist currently living and working in Chicago. She graduated cum laude from Wellesley College in 1999 with a BA in Studio Art and moved to Chicago to attend the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, graduating from the Post Baccalaureate Program in Painting in 2007. Cameron’s work is playful and generous and continues to be fueled by a desire to explore color and materials. She believes in the importance of cultural exchange and has participated in programs and residencies including: The School for International Training (Cameroun), The Lijiang Studio (China), and The Vermont Studio Center. A former BOLT resident, Harvey has exhibited work in Chicago, Indianapolis, St. Louis, New York, India, Italy, and China. She has received grants from the City of Chicago as well as the Illinois Arts Council Agency and the Alice C. Cole Alumnae Fund. Cameron’s work is currently on display as part of Rebuilding the Present, Curated by Holly Cahill.

Rebuilding the Present is on view at Weinberg/Newton Gallery from January 18 –  April 13th 2019.

Weinberg Newton Gallery: Your Untitled, large scale, airbrush paintings on voile are hung off the wall and in a staggered line that expands into the gallery as you approach the works.  These double-sided paintings are positioned at enough of a distance from one another, so that visitors can walk and weave paths between each painting. Due to the lightweight, unstretched quality of the fabric, they undulate when air is displaced as you move past them. Can you tell us about how you chose the scale, installation, and configuration of these works as well as your intention to make them responsive to movement?

Cameron Harvey: I think of each painting as a figure painting that represents the possible energetic qualities of a person. I imagine the energetic body to be larger and more expansive than the physical body so, the paintings are taller and wider than the average person. I have been thinking about the interconnectedness of existence and how there are no solid forms, no boundaries between you and me, the chair and the wall, only atoms and molecules in constant motion and exchange with one another that make up what we, incorrectly, perceive to be solid, individual objects. Therefore, I wanted to make paintings that addressed ideas of visual perception and how what we see may not  in fact be what is real, as well as ideas of motion, flow and interconnectedness.

I decided to install the paintings in a free-hanging way, as opposed to up against a wall like traditional works, so that they could be understood as both individual works and as parts of a whole, and so that the viewer could walk between the works to activate the installation and see both sides of the paintings. I chose not to anchor the bottoms of the fabric too tightly so that the paintings would move with the presence of the viewer. The idea of a diagonal line came about as it worked within the confines of the gallery space and allowed the paintings to peak-out behind one another so the imagery could overlap and the paintings could interact with one another in a visual way. It is intended that the viewer activate the paintings by looking at the imagery and attempting to perceive what marks are really there among the movement of the moire pattern, as well as allowing their own presence to be part of the visual and physical exchange, contributing both to the composition and to the movement of the installation.

WNG: Your interests span the cosmic and the cellular, our internal and external states, liberation and confinement, what is real and perceived, among others.  The imagery in your paintings is not grounded in place, but rather depicts colorful, immersive, energetic fields in which interconnected complex forms emerge and dissolve.  However, when you move closely to examine them, a moire pattern disrupts the surface of the painting, making the image difficult to discern. How do you think about and develop the activity within these paintings?  What does the interference of the moire pattern symbolize for you?

CH: I think of the moire pattern as something that disrupts the marks and colors of the painting and which makes it difficult to understand where the marks reside, where they are coming from and how they are made. This is important to me because I am interested in creating a sort of ethereal mark that is not entirely there, or not fixed in space, to support my idea of creating bodiless forms and representing a sort of energy. The pattern also contributes a strong element of movement. Through the moire pattern, the paintings are in constant flux and therefore each person who views them has their own experience, and each experience is different depending on the light, the time of day, how many people are in the installation etc. It is important to me that the paintings interact with the viewer, that they do something, that they don’t just represent an idea, but somehow they are the idea. Through the movement, there is an element of impermanence, like the paintings can not be seen or captured, or made to be fixed or stil. Impermanence is one of the only guarantees in life, change is certain, nothing lasts forever and impermanence is about the fact that nothing is ever made up of the same particles, but that we are always in constant exchange with our environment.  I like how the moire pattern creates an energy flow within the painting. To me both of these elements illustrate the nature of being on a molecular level but also on a philosophical one as well. The moire pattern is strongest where the colors are the most dense so I need to plan accordingly when creating the images.

WNG: What I See with My Eyes Closed represents a dramatic shift in scale, material and form from your hanging paintings in the gallery.  In this small scale series on paper, you work to capture the fleeting afterimage we first see when closing our eyes.   Each drawing is detailed, yet fuzzy, involving a labor intensive process in the depiction of a transitional moment. These drawings require tremendous memory and focus on a brief experience at the edge of vision.  All of the drawings in this series are dated and you have compared these works to diary entries. Can you tell us about your process of making What I See with My Eyes Closed and what inspires you to capture these moments?

CH: The drawings are smaller and more portable than my paintings so I can work on them if I only have a few hours or if I am traveling, or want to be at home on the couch. They are also a collaboration with me and my physical environment where I don’t have to come up with the composition myself…but I can just close my eyes and try to remember the fleeting afterimage of the physical world and its light disappearing into a sort of vast inner space. Similar to my paintings they are made of layers of color and I think of them as representative of a certain place or time. I want to bring attention to moments of transition and attempt to capture the fleeting, which is impossible. I think of de Kooning and the ‘Slipping Glimpser’, he said, “You know, the real world, this so-called world, is just something you put up with like everybody else. I’m in my element when I’m a little bit out of this world: then I’m in the real world – I’m on the beam. Because when I’m falling, I’m doing alright. When I’m slipping, I say, ‘Hey, this is interesting.’ It’s when I’m standing upright that bothers me… As a matter of fact, I’m really slipping most of the time. I’m like a slipping glimpser.” I love that quote and how he addresses the journey of life and artmaking and how they are both slippery and it is hard to hold onto things to the point where letting go and being on the journey is the interesting part. I also feel like the act of making work for me helps me stay together while I am falling apart… and in some ways both my paintings and drawings are somehow disappearing or falling apart at the same time as they are coming together. It occurs to me that some people use the word transition to mean death, and I think, underneath it all, my work is about the relationship between the body and the Spirit and what happens when the objects on the physical plane disappear, about what is leftover. Fundamentally, my work is about death and what we are without the material world.

WNG: In addition to being an artist, you are also a yoga teacher.  Yoga is described as a moving meditation.   What drew you to learn and later teach yoga?   What is your meditation routine and how does it inform your artmaking practice or vice versa?

CH: I began practicing yoga because I was making poor decisions and wanted to know myself better, it was really about dealing with stress and anxiety and low self-esteem. Yoga helped me so much that I knew I wanted to know more about it and share it with others so that is when I decided to do the teacher training and get out into the community. I am getting older and have been working in restaurants for 13 years so I practice asana in the morning to maintain some flexibility, and to be able to walk without limping, and turn my head when driving. I generally meditate while I am having coffee in the morning for 15 min or so, checking the internal weather to see what I am dealing with on any given day. I try to just sit and see what comes up and be without judgement, and as a perfectionist that is one of my biggest challenges, to accept myself as I am. Meditation helps me to see my emotions and thoughts, to acknowledge them, and let them go. Meditation is also about death, going into the deep self that is not physical, it is about impermanence and the idea that everything changes, as well as the fact that I create my own reality through my attitude, thoughts and perceptions. Ideas relating to trying to discern what is real, and exploring how my own perception shapes my personal reality, are important to me and what I explore in my artistic practice as well. Sometimes I can’t see the forest through the trees, and meditation is a way to pause and take stock, take the aerial view. I think of my painting installation at Weinberg/Newton in a similar way, when you are in it, you are caught up in the micro-focus of the moire pattern and a sort of minutia that is always changing. I have realized through this experience that the installation creates a bit of instability, or maybe even anxiety as a result. But you can really only see the installation as a whole, in a more calm and stable way, if you step back out of the installation, out of the woods as it were.

Artist Interview: Meredith Haggerty

We spoke with Meredith Haggerty about her practice and her guided meditation piece Tiny Retreat. Tiny Retreat is currently on view at Weinberg Newton as part of Rebuilding the Present, curated by Holly Cahill.

Using collage, storytelling, and performance, Meredith Haggerty explores the process and pedagogy of mindbody practices and ways they allow us to connect to our experience and frame it.

After completing an MFA in 2007, Haggerty worked for a decade at the University of Chicago to develop campuswide programming in mind-body medicine. Her programs explored the relations between art, wellness, education, and spirituality, helping participants develop life and work patterns that promote physical and emotional well-being. This included site-specific yoga and meditation classes in galleries, gyms, and campus chapels that addressed themes like resilience, inclusiveness and acceptance. Haggerty also worked clinically with students to relieve stress and pain and promote wellness. At the University of Chicago’s medical school, she collaborated with faculty to develop and teach a fourth-year Empathy class and mind-body curriculums in the first year symposium and family medicine rotation. In 2013, she was granted the Campus and Student Life Award for Outstanding Service to the Community. Haggerty currently makes picture book manuscripts, illustrations, and performances that emphasize deep listening and are rooted in Buddhist teachings, the fabulist tradition and somatic experience.

Presented in partnership with the David Lynch Foundation, Rebuilding the Present brings together artists whose works engage a spectrum of meditative practices. The paintings, objects, audio works, and performance documentation on view suggest that meditation can function as a tool of not only self-care but of social justice writ large, offering practitioners a sense of agency to cope in the ever-growing chaos of our world.

Click here to stream Meredith Haggerty's Tiny Retreat, a series of guided meditations made specially for Rebuilding the Present.

Rebuilding the Present is on view at Weinberg/Newton Gallery from January 18 –  April 13th 2019.



Weinberg/Newton Gallery: Can you tell us how you developed Tiny Retreat, an album of audio tracks specifically produced for Rebuilding the Present? How did the process evolve through the collaborations and conversations you had with many of the artists in the exhibition?

Meredith Haggerty: Holly expressed early on that she wanted the show itself to invite people to slow down and observe. I was inspired by affinities between her ideas and time I’ve spent in walking meditation with my husband. When we lived in Chicago, we’d go to a retreat center called Windhorse in rural Wisconsin for self-guided meditation retreats. The center is in a beautiful area with lots of rolling hills, and between sittings, we’d take turns leading each other on silent walks. At dinner one night, we talked about how being guided through the landscape was such a highlight for each of us. It gave us a chance to actively observe a space unfolding without fully navigating things. It felt like watching a film or listening to music.

I’d been playing with the idea of recording guided meditations for some time, and Rebuilding The Present seemed like the right space to begin that work. As I began to compose instructions, it became clear that I wanted these meditations to respond to the Weinberg/Newton Gallery space and the works in it. But since I now live in Chapel Hill, I needed to find a way to do it from afar.

I researched the space and the artists, but felt the need for even more connection. I asked Holly if she and I and perhaps some of the artists in the show could talk about our studio practices and the work going into the show. I am so grateful for their engagement because those conversations shaped tiny retreat. We talked about life experiences that informed our studio practices, ways in which audience interaction with our work is meaningful to us and things we would like to see happen with our work. It felt right to me that guided meditations that invite close engagement with the show were inspired by heartfelt, thoughtful conversation with artists in the show.


WNG: You received your MFA from the University of Chicago and later worked there in mind-body medicine teaching and implementing campus-wide curriculum and programing over a 10 year period.  Can you share more about your experience as an artist working in mind-body medicine and how it may have informed the guided meditations in the exhibition?  Where do these tracks veer from your experiences in the field of medicine?

MH: It is important to include that besides visual arts, I also have training in mind-body medicine including massage therapy, yoga, somatics and meditation. All of these combined allowed me to develop such a program.

The program at the University of Chicago began in Student Health. There, I worked alongside physicians and nurse practitioners to create complementary clinical care rooted in mind-body practices to help students manage stress and pain.

It was this work that led to yoga and meditation programs in campus chapels, galleries and conference rooms and then eventually to a curriculum at The Pritzker School of Medicine. I was constantly taking apart and reworking mind-body instructions and practice to fit into a variety of spaces and meet the needs of the particular group. It was lovely to work creatively with each space. The site-specific nature of that work kept me connected to my art practice even though there was this whole other career. It felt natural to continue working with those themes for Rebuilding the Present.

At University of Chicago I kept my work within the scope of the scientific literature on mind-body medicine. This happened naturally because I was reporting to physicians who understandably wanted this program based in science. It remains a great foundation for me. Rebuilding the Present was a permission to open things up and bring in themes as they were being explored by the artists with whom I spoke. Wander without moving and object holding pattern are meditations in tiny retreat that both incorporate moments of contemplation that, as far as I know, don’t have any literature suggesting they are tools for stress or pain management but are certainly rooted in awareness and agency and interwoven with instructions that do reflect the science of mind-body medicine.


WNG: It would be wonderful if you could walk us through one of the tracks you developed with an artist(s) in Rebuilding the Present and give us some insight into how their work influenced the recording?  What do you hope that the visitors to the exhibition or the listeners on SoundCloud may take away from the album?

First settle in is a track that was inspired by all of the artists with whom I spoke. The instructions begin with an invitation to find a comfortable place and position and then bring attention to other immediate surroundings by looking around.  These instructions were drawn from our shared interest in installing work and inviting others to spend time with objects or ideas with which we have spent time, physically manipulated and developed a relationship with.

Then I invite observers to close their eyes and scan their body for sensations from breath, posture and tension. This part of the exercise is about noticing things that we typically take for granted or ignore, which is another theme that came up in each conversation. All of us were interested in the kind of intimacy that allows us to notice nuance. Whether it’s a slight variance in color or texture or a shift in the use or appearance of an image or object, each of us is curious about how layers unfold in our work and ways of inviting the audience to process this.

We then open our eyes and return to looking practice. The meditation closes with a tactile practice, similar to the beginning and my hope is that the track offers an opportunity to connect with the space in a way that consciously deepens over time and includes some stuff going on internally.


WNG: These works pair art and meditation to form the work itself.  How do you negotiate the relationship between the two? Is meditation an important part of your practice?

MH: They certainly overlap, but they are quite different practices. A practice in studio art is, at the end of the day, at least partly about production and assessing what you make. Meditation practice, while not passive, often includes stepping back and noticing our urges to produce or judge situations then sitting with those qualities or exploring them within their larger context.

In this way, just like any life practice paired with contemplative work, meditation and art-making can inform each other. If I try to boil down my own experience, each practice contains the opportunity to notice my habits and avoidance strategies. From there, I can choose to work in a space closer to my heart and move into the other practice from that sweet and tender space. For me, the practices in tandem are like a friendship where both parties can totally be themselves and that honesty, with all the expressed messiness, vulnerability and weakness, strengthens the friendship and supports the individuals.

There are some intersections where I cannot distinguish the practices so well. Both seem to be sensory-based platforms that connect us to our immediate space including our internal landscape. Both practices require presence and a willingness to stay and return even when things are boring, fruitless or failed. Also, sometimes people think about starting an art practice or a meditation practice but don’t do it. I imagine we’ve all done this many times. We have an idea for a book or some paintings or we’ve read that meditation can help with a work or health-related goal but we let it sit there as an idea, something for the future. There can be lovely creativity in thinking about making art or meditating, but only if it leads us to starting where we are with whatever we have. Any practitioner of either form will tell you that some irreplaceable, juicy stuff happens only when you start practicing and you have to keep diving in.

Also, I don’t know if it works this way for others, but for me, metaphors, stories and images arrive more easily and take on more significance when I make space for and listen to the landscape beyond my own constant chatter.

A Conversation with Deborah Stratman

Today, we're sharing a conversation with Deborah Stratman. Her experimental documentary film, The Illinois Parables, links the stories of diverse subjects, from indigenous peoples to natural disaster survivors. The common landscape connects these seemingly disparate stories of upheaval, violence, and struggle in order to illuminate the common threads of human endurance in the face of unimaginable difficulties. 

Deborah Stratman is a Chicago-based artist and filmmaker interested in landscapes and systems. Much of her work points to the relationships between physical environments and human struggles for power and control that play out on the land. Recent projects have addressed freedom, expansionism, surveillance, sonic warfare, public speech, ghosts, sinkholes, levitation, propagation, raptors, comets, and faith. She has exhibited internationally at venues including Centre Pompidou, Hammer Museum, Mercer Union, MoMA, Witte de With, Whitney Biennial and festivals including Ann Arbor, Berlinale, CPH/DOX, Full Frame, Oberhausen, Rotterdam, Sundance, and Viennale. Stratman is the recipient of Fulbright, Guggenheim and USA Collins fellowships, a Creative Capital grant, and an Alpert Award. She lives in Chicago where she teaches at the University of Illinois.

Conceived of as a tool, Weight of a World presents artworks that elicit lessons to be learned – and to be taught – from global conflict, local lore, and cultural identity. Presented in partnership with Facing History and OurselvesWeight of a World comprises sculptures, paintings, film, and supplementary programming that pivot upon two vast, inextricable categories: history and identity. The works on view recognize the roles of individuals within the long arc of history: how we are formed by our contexts, and how we may impact what comes next.

Weight of a World is on view at Weinberg/Newton Gallery from July 13 - September 15, 2018.

Still from "The Illinois Parables", 2016. Runtime 60 Min, 16mm or DCP

Weinberg/Newton Gallery: This work, The Illinois Parables - draws on events that are driven by faith, technology, and exodus. These events are particularly emblematic of the complex history of Illinois.. How did you narrow down to the 11 events featured in this film? What was the selection process like?

Deborah Stratman: I was trying to speak about as much as possible with the fewest possible moves. Working towards a maximalist minimalism. I didn’t know at the outset that I wanted 11 parables, but I knew 12 was wrong – too many Christian and calendrical associations. I settled on 11 because it’s a prime number, so irreducible, but also a little unsettled or imbalanced. That destabilization is a central theme in the film – it affords a kind of uncertainty that allows room for thinking. I tried to focus on historical events that were both extremely local, and political in their specificity, but also general or allegorical, able to rhyme with similar events across time. I wanted to avoid the most commonly re-told stories, like the great Chicago fire or ole’ Abe, and to avoid too many Chicago-based stories. Otherwise I would have tried to cram Studs Terkel and Harold Washington into the mix. A guiding principle was the idea of “thin places,” but rather than exclusively in the Jesuit sense of a place where the border between our world and the spirit world is thin, I was thinking about thin boundaries between sites with a heavy past but seemingly benign present.

WNG: Our partner organization, Facing History and Ourselves encourages people to examine history with the context of their identity. Are the events that you selected common regional knowledge? Were the local residents that you were engaging with generally aware/knowledgeable of the events?

DS: I think some of the histories might be common knowledge, but many are not. Most everybody knows Enrico Fermi had something to do with the critical mass equation that led to the first nuclear bomb, but maybe not that he was doing his experiments in Hyde Park. Many people will have heard of Fred Hampton and the Black Panthers, but maybe they won’t have known how Ed Hanrahan and the States Attorney’s office created their own false version of events for the nightly news by building sets in their offices and re-enacting the raid. Probably quite a few people have heard of Nauvoo, but maybe not that Joseph Smith who is a prophet to the Mormons was martyred there. And I think far fewer would know how less than a year after the Mormons had been run out across the Mississippi, which was then the edge of our country, Etienne Cabet and his Icarian followers moved into the freshly vacated village to start their own socialist utopian community. There was one person I met in Macomb who knew the story of the alleged pre-teen ‘firestarter’ Wanet McNeill. And aound Murphysboro, quite a few people knew of the Tri-State Tornado (to this day, the deadliest in US history). There seems to be general familiarity with the Trail of Tears, though I think most people might not have known where specifically the purged Cherokees and other first nations peoples passed through Illinois. Or that more died in our state than in any other during those years of forced exodous. Folks around Alton know about the Piasa Bird legend because they’ve been repainting that mural for a century or more. But I’m not sure how many know that it’s in reference to a mural that Fr. Jacques Marquette and Joliet saw and recorded on their river journeying. And I’d guess most people don’t know Michael Heizer produced a land art work in Illinois, or even who he is for that matter.

Still from "The Illinois Parables", 2016. Runtime 60 Min, 16mm or DCP

WNG: Parables is an interesting term to use- implying that there are lessons to be learned from the past events, and it gives the film theological overtones. The pacing of the film encourages the viewer to have a meditative experience with the depicted scene. How did the idea of “parables” influence the pacing of the film and the cinematic style?

DS: Yes, I used the term ‘parable’ for its embrace of the allegorical, or the archetypal. I’d say my parables are more secular ones, but definitely invested in ethics. I want them to resonate with other histories and places. The pacing and style aren’t directly connected to the concept of parables. This has more to do with making a film that is extremely dense, and needing to provide space for people to ruminate and drift.

Still from "The Illinois Parables", 2016. Runtime 60 Min, 16mm or DCP

WNG: Can you speak a bit about the use archival footage in the film? How did you decide to use the original footage or to re-enact certain scenes? Was it based on the availability of existing footage?

DS: I’ll answer this more broadly by saying that I was interested in what version of events, or modes of presentation, we tend to trust more than others.  That’s why the film is so packed with different types of material, archival and otherwise. There are newspaper headlines, paintings, enactments and re-enactments, voiceovers, interviews and archival films.  My choice and alternation of these have more to do with a desire to keep shifting the register of evidence, than about access or availability.

Still from "The Illinois Parables", 2016. Runtime 60 Min, 16mm or DCP

To see more of Deborah Stratman's work, please visit her website.


Artist Interview: Alison Ruttan

Today, we share an interview with Alison Ruttan. Alison Ruttan is an artist who primarily works within topically focused projects. Each project comes out of her attempts to understand perceived contradictions in the world around her. For the past ten years she has been engaged with various questions surrounding the nature of violence as a part of the human condition. In the series “The Four Year War at Gombe”, Ruttan references Jane Goodall’s research on primate aggression to construct a parallel narrative of our own history of warfare. Throughout the making of that work and the research she was doing, Ruttan found herself becoming increasingly concerned about an endless state of war and what that said about human nature. The U.S. was in the middle of the war in Iraq, that would quickly engulf much of the Middle East. I began this ceramic work as a means of trying to understand something that was beyond my experience. It started from a place of empathy.

While the subject of this work focuses on the destruction caused by war, specifically, the damage that civilians endure, it is equally impossible to ignore how strange and interesting these images of destroyed cities are. Modernity’s presence can be seen in the gridded structures revealed by the destruction as well as the directional movements within the collapses themselves. A feeling of the uncanny is present in the juxtaposition of buildings that feel familiar, yet now strange in their mutilated forms. The experience is further complicated as looking becomes entangled in remembered images from film, video games and other fictions, not to mention the engagement we might have with the formal language of abstraction while contemplating these destroyed cities. The uncomfortableness we experience navigating these thoughts, frames a perspective that is perhaps American, after all, we are safely looking from here and not there experiencing.

Conceived of as a tool, Weight of a World presents artworks that elicit lessons to be learned – and to be taught – from global conflict, local lore, and cultural identity. Presented in partnership with Facing History and OurselvesWeight of a World comprises sculptures, paintings, film, and supplementary programming that pivot upon two vast, inextricable categories: history and identity. The works on view recognize the roles of individuals within the long arc of history: how we are formed by our contexts, and how we may impact what comes next.

Weight of a World is on view at Weinberg/Newton Gallery from July 13 - September 15, 2018.


Triple Collapse, 2018, inset ceramic, black nested tables, 20 x 25 x 33 inches


Weinberg/Newton Gallery: How did you first become interested in addressing violence and its relationships to human nature through your artwork?

Alison Ruttan: I have always been interested in trying to decipher human behavior. I suppose it relates to growing up in multiple environments and cultural customs that I had to negotiate. As an adult, I have been interested in the ways culture and biology determine behavior. I am particularily drawn to the kinds of behavior that are part of patterns of learned behavior and those that are seemingly hard wired. I made work about sex and appetite for many years but switched to looking at aggression soon after 9/11. I use my art practice to try to understand the deep anger that fuels aggression. I have looked to fields like evolutionary biology, feminism, political science and history as sources of my inquiry. My most recent work has concerned itself with the state of endless war.

WNG: Our partner organization for this exhibition, Facing History and Ourselves, approaches history through the lens of identity and the individual. I feel your work does this in a unique way even without depicting any people. Through focusing on the destruction of urban homes, and often placing your sculptures upon or within domestic furniture, we’re constantly brought back to the effects of war on community. Can you tell us more about your choice to focus on civilian structures as opposed to civilians themselves?

AR: It is the feminist side of me that led me to the war work. I often feel that those who start wars (mostly men) are driven, (at best), by principles that often exclude consideration of the cost paid by those who have to live with the consequences. Chris Hedges writes in the book, “War is a Force That Gives Us Meaning”, writes about the terrible seductiveness of war and the problem with the idea of “herocism” that war promises. I was very affected by the images I saw on the nightly news during the war in Iraq. I was also very distrustful of my own countries involvement in the Middle East. I did not think we knew what we were doing.

Initially I was working in video and photography in related projects exploring the origins of violence. When I began the ceramic work, I initially tried to include people in the wreckage but I quickly saw that it too easily pointed to the emotion you should feel but left little opportunity for a more reflective experience. By removing the people and presenting only the shell, the remains of a home, it points to those who are now gone. The building most damaged are often built in “The International Style”, a type of architecture found in cities all over the world. Many of the buildings look like the same kind of homes we also live in. In the more recent work that integrates home furnishings with the suggestion of rubble or shattered buildings, my intention was to point to a domestic life lost.


Pile, 2018, White Console and ceramic debris/parts, 14 x 27.5 x 34 inches

WNG: As spectators, removed from the direct impact of warfare, we may see photographs of ruin and devastation but we can often become oversaturated with the images we encounter through our screens every day. Do you think the physicality of your sculptural installations provides the viewer with a heavier impact than the photograph is able to?

AR: We live in news world that largely focuses on one sensational story at a time. I think that when people see blown up cities night after night they begin to lose their shock. Andy Warhol speaks about repetition as having a numbing effect.  Sadly the horror of these images can become ordinary. In my work, I think the physicality and intimate scale invites you to peer inside to maybe understand more, the craft of how they are made also distracts your attention, but I believe the distraction holds your attention and your thoughts are allowed to linger as you move between the various emotions that the pieces elicit.

WNG: In your piece, All Down the Line, you show a row of nine buildings -- each one more crumbled than the next. This piece in particular hints at the passage of time and the perpetual state of unrest, as I can imagine one building slowly collapsing after the other. I wonder what role does time play in your work? From the fact that some of the ceramic structures you build are based off of images of specific buildings which may no longer be standing, to the fact that you personally have to painstakingly construct that which is destructed.

AR: The time I am describing is gone, these sculpture represent an in between state, neither livable or bulldozed over into empty lots. They are records of a sort, as each building is based on source photographs of specific buildings. This particular scene of the white row houses, all the same, looked like dominoes falling, I wondered how it might be to live at the end of the block that was hardly touched. Perhaps later or even now, new cities will begin to build on these same sites and the events will become just a memory.

All Down the Line, 9 Ceramic Buildings, table, slip covered plywood top, Table, 26 x 84 X 32 inches

WNG: You mention on your website that you began the ceramic work as a way to understand something that was beyond your own experience, starting from a place of empathy. What do you feel you’ve learned or helped others learn throughout the making of this work?

AR: In some ways I have learned nothing that points to making any of this better. I have learned that we don’t learn from our mistakes very well. Maybe that is something that should make us more wary, more cautious. I have tried through this project to make myself more knowledgeable about the history of this region. That is the least I would expect from those eager to start wars.  I am trying to humanize these events, to help people empathise with those who have been caught up in them. To see themselves in such circumstances. I am horrified that the US, has let in only 11 Syrian refugees this year. I see this work as contributing to the work of many artists, journalists and concerned citizens who are trying to keep these issues visible. It is especially important now, when our attention is continually diverted by the antics of a president who dismisses the value of being an informed leader, preferring to rely on his instincts instead.


Weight of a World installation at Weinberg/Newton Gallery

To view more of Ruttan's work, please visit her website.

Artist Interview: Orkideh Torabi

Today we share an interview with Orkideh Torabi. Torabi's paintings, made using a unique transfer process of fabric dye on cotton, depict oafish men in garish, sickly colors. These caricatures incorporate lush patterns and imagery from traditional Persian miniatures in order to emphasize the connections between power dynamics of the past and the present. She renders her male subjects as goofy and goggle–eyed in order to rattle the patriarchal precedent of her home country Iran, and of contemporary society at large.

Conceived of as a tool, Weight of a World presents artworks that elicit lessons to be learned – and to be taught – from global conflict, local lore, and cultural identity. Presented in partnership with Facing History and Ourselves, Weight of a World comprises sculptures, paintings, film, and supplementary programming that pivot upon two vast, inextricable categories: history and identity. The works on view recognize the roles of individuals within the long arc of history: how we are formed by our contexts, and how we may impact what comes next.

Weight of a World is on view at Weinberg/Newton Gallery from July 13 - September 15, 2018.

Sit tight, 2018, Fabric dye on stretched cotton, 43 x 37 inches

Weinberg/Newton Gallery: Your work does such an excellent job at weaving together intense criticism with a charming levity. Each of your creative choices, from the caricature-like portraits bathed in saturated color to your humorous titles, all work together to lift the veil on patriarchal culture in Iran and beyond. How did you come to realize this was an issue you wanted to tackle through your work?

Orkideh Torabi: I was always concerned about women’s life and situation in a male dominated society. My experiences came from a larger aspect of daily life. Growing up, I started to realize how woman did not have all the same options as men. The experiences with daily life favored men over women, and made me think how my life might be different if none of these problems ever existed.

Since I came to the United States I was able to meet people from different backgrounds that have the same insight and personal struggles. I began to realize how ridiculous the circumstances are for woman. This became an outlet for myself. It made me want to depict all of these aspects in the work.

I also wanted to understand my artistic identity and the language in my painting. Thinking about my relationship to Western art history and Persian art history. I was looking for a language to express what I wanted to communicate.

WNG: Many of your paintings show these men in intimate positions, such as the washing of another man’s hair in I hear you buddy, or the 3 men standing behind a sheet in The Greater Wall, where it’s unclear if they are fully clothed or not. What role do you feel this intimacy plays in the work?

OT: These men are in the places that women are fully removed from. In fact, this is a space that only men are allowed to go. In these societies, women are considered as the other and they are not the activators.

These men have control of everything. The intimacy has been established and they have the freedom to gossip. They can do as they wish without any female present. For example, the painting “I here you buddy” shows two men who are gossiping about their wives in the public bath. Making these men more intimate with each other. The male power, masculinity, and insecurities are the qualities these men share.

It's never enough, 2018, Fabric dye on stretched cotton, 43 x 36 inches

WNG: You also have a unique way of integrating cultural references across time and space. You often place your depictions of Iranian men into feminine roles from historically western paintings such as the Birth of Venus or the Madonna and child, calling their masculinity further into question. Can you tell us more about how you chose those particular western tropes to insert your characters into?

OT: Usually, when I start a new body of work I have multiple narratives in mind. Then I start working on some sketches, gathering different resources, and research. At times I look at art historical images to get some reference. It can range from Persian miniature to a historically western painting, it doesn’t matter. The revisiting of history has been a major part of my recent body of works.

For example, when I started the “Madonna” series I came across these images of Madonna and the child and I thought it’s a good place to start. I wanted to have my own version of it.

In this case, I replaced the female figure in the painting with the male figures. It just reminds us of the actual painting that I am referring to, but the whole composition is different. In fact, this parody is bringing a new life to these images.

My works are not about any specific nations or nationalities. These men can be from anywhere around the world to different communities.

That moment!, 2018, Fabric dye on stretched cotton, 43 x 37 inches

WNG: Your work brings up an important conversation about identity and freedom of expression--topics that our current partner organization, Facing History and Ourselves, integrate heavily into their curriculum. Would you share with us a bit about your experience of making this work here in the U.S. knowing how differently it may be perceived in Iran?

OT: This content was always there and continued even when I moved to the United States but the way I have executed the works has changed. The language, the aesthetics have evolved to make the message clearer. I used to talk about these issues through painting women but I found it problematic since the images that I produced usually were misinterpreted. So, I started creating these characters, using contemporary men, intermingling them with the images from art history.

I believe these paintings can be well-received in Iran. The art community in Iran is pretty open and there is an understanding between galleries and artists. They are more open to talk about these issues.

Where are all the houries?, 2018, Fabric dye on stretched cotton, 37 x 43 inches

WNG: One of my favorite pieces is Where are all the houries?, which features an angel-winged man floating in a sea of mustard yellow clouds wondering where all the heavenly virgins he’s been promised are; he even appears to be wearing a shirt patterned with a Venus symbol. I find this one to be the most cheeky and humorous, but also one that really exemplifies the powerful wit in your voice as an artist and a woman. How do you find yourself able to toe the line of satire so well?

OT: When one becomes fully aware of their surroundings they have the ability to be critical about it. I didn’t want to be outspoken with direct reference about the issues that I am talking about so I added humor to my work. The element of satire becomes more universal and is accessible to different ranges of people. I think very serious things can be discussed through satire.

I also think when a content is heavy with satire it can help the viewer to make more connections to the artwork. It’s a way to be discreet and humorous at the same time.

Weight of a World installation at Weinberg/Newton Gallery

To view more of Torabi's work visit her website.