Erika Diamond explores the fragility and resilience of the human body using materials that echo the properties of skin. Born to ballet dancers, Diamond creates work that is deeply informed by the expressive qualities of the body, the ephemeral nature of touch, and the power of presentation. A mentee of renowned artist Sonya Clark, Diamond examines textiles as conceptual skins that are protective yet permeable. Her work often incorporates materials like bullet-proof Kevlar and mirrored vinyl, which serve as metaphors for vulnerability, protection, and identity.

Eggshell Shirt – Business Casual (2022) is a meticulously quilted eggshell garment meditating on self-preservation and the complexity of queer experience. Diamond reflects, “As a queer woman, I walk through the world with a few extra layers of caution. I think a lot about protective exteriors, perceived fragility, and the paradox of safety and visibility. I find softness through breakage and strength in numbers.” The artist performed in a similar eggshell garment, inviting participants to hug her—an act that allowed both her skin and the fragile armor to register the physical imprints of the interaction.

As an artist working in Asheville, North Carolina, Diamond honors the labor and resilience of communities rebuilding after Hurricane Helene in Eggshell Work Glove (right) (2025), a piece reminiscent of heavy-duty gloves. Crafted from eggshells and tulle, she describes the work as a love letter to volunteers and survivors, highlighting the strength found in collective effort. In Houston, where the impact of past hurricanes still resonates, the glove serves as a powerful reminder of the fragility of our environment and the strength of communities in times of crisis.

Through these works, Diamond invites viewers to reflect on the dualities of protection and exposure, vulnerability and resilience. Her use of everyday materials transforms the mundane into the extraordinary, creating artifacts commemorating touch, labor, and the enduring power of human connection. By centering queer visibility and community care, Diamond’s work challenges us to consider how we navigate the world—both the barriers we build and the connections we forge.

The earliest surviving examples of paper marbling come from 12th century Japan, where it is known as suminagashi. In the Islamic world, the technique is said to have originated in Bukhara, Uzbekistan, traveling west along the Silk Road – a trade route that linked east and west for almost two millennia – to Turkey, where in the 15th and 16th centuries it quickly became beloved in the Ottoman Empire.

Every work of ebru begins with a tray of water, thickened with oil or a seaweed-based powder called carrageenan. Then, using a horsehair brush, needle, or comb, pigments are dripped or flicked onto the surface of the water. Pigments like white lead, gold, indigo, ochre, and acrylic are mixed with oxgall acid, which increases their surface tension and allows them to float on the surface of the water.

The pigment-laden water is then manipulated with the artist’s tools, allowing colors to flow together and form unique designs. Once the tray is ready, a piece of paper is carefully laid on the water, and the design is transferred onto the sheet.

The fluidity of ebru lends itself to abstract patterns and designs, but floral and geometric motifs are also popular. Expert ebru artists are also able to create works of marbled calligraphy, known as Yazili ebru, by applying a gum arabic resist to the paper before dyeing – a technique pioneered by celebrated calligrapher Necmeddin Okyay, who also developed the distinctive tulip design seen in many works of ebru today.

You can see more photos from our August 24, 2024 Paper-Marbling Workshop on our Facebook page!

Ato Ribeiro translates symbolic modes of communication from across the African diaspora, shifting traditionally textile-based expressions into complex, geometric wooden tapestries. His interlocking patterns reference Ghanaian adinkra and kente cloth traditions, as well as African-American quilts that were coded with secret messages and maps along the Underground Railroad. Adinkra are visual representations of concepts and proverbs traditionally stamped on cloth or ceramics. Kente cloth conveys social status, spiritual beliefs, and cultural heritage through its distinctive, intricate strip-woven patterns and color combinations. In Home Away From Home #10 (2023), Ribeiro incorporates Adinkra symbols throughout, including Nsaa (excellence and authenticity), Nkyinkyim (life’s twisting path), and Owuo Atwedee (the universal ladder of death).

Ribeiro draws inspiration from renowned fiber artist Sonya Clark, whose work is displayed in the exhibition, We Are Each Other, in the adjacent galleries. He says, “We’ve always used textiles to share stories…my job is to make the world remember these contributions.” By meticulously cutting, gluing, curing, and slicing repurposed wood into assemblages that invoke the communicative power of African diasporic textiles, the artist is also engaged in a mode of archiving cultural knowledge.

This past April, I joined Lakea Shepard in her studio. During our visit, Lakea shared her journey as a textile artist while she worked away on her latest work. We also discussed life in Houston, and her experience here at HCCC. 

The conversation that follows has been edited for length and clarity.

James Pickens: How long have you been an artist?

Lakea Shepard: I’ve been an artist my entire life. Even before I started kindergarten, I was making art – it’s basically the only thing that I know.

JP: When did you start working with your chosen medium?

LS: I started working with textiles and fabrics because I’ve always been around them since my mom worked for a textile company. But I really started to focus in on it when I moved to Detroit, like [in] about 2009.

JP: How would you describe your style of craft?

LS: My particular style of craft is what I consider [to be] where craft meets fine art. I mean that my work is very technical based, but also focuses on conceptual backgrounds.

JP: What is your process when developing a new piece?

LS: My process when developing a new piece starts with my sketchbook, so I’ll take any ideas that I have come about throughout the years and then I’ll just kind of combine them, and mesh them all together. I kind of sift through those ideas in my sketchbook to hone in on exactly what I’m trying to say. So from there, I’ll sketch up the design and make sure that everything is planned to the T. Because the kind of work that I do is not something that I can stop and start or redo, I try to make sure that everything is in place before I get started on the actual process.

JP: What other elements do you consider when beginning a new piece?

LS: A large part of my process is material development and material sourcing, because my work and my ideas speak through the type of materials that I use. [One time], I was using some random cords, some random materials, and I had an art critic ask me what was the purpose of the cords that I was using. And at the time, I didn’t really have a purpose. And I told him, “I don’t know.” And at that moment he said, “You should always know where your materials come from.” And ever since then, I made it a point to understand the basis of the materials that I’m using.

JP: What ideas inspire you to make your work?

LS: I feel like within Black culture, there’s a lot of things that aren’t being said, and that need to be said. And I feel like the purpose of me creating the type of work that I’m creating is to make sure that I’m speaking about things that matter, and [about] things that can educate the masses. I try to take personal situations that I may go through, and combine them with art. It’s important that I combine art history and Black history to create some sense of connection. Because I feel like there is a lot that has been lost between where we are today, and then the history of how we’ve become. So I just try to make sure that even if I can’t use the information, maybe my children or future children, when I do have them, will have information that may not be accessible when I’m long gone.

JP: When did you begin working with the idea of vessels?

LS: So, I watched a documentary on Netflix. In that documentary, they were trying to make connections between current residents here in America, and slavery. And within that documentary, they spoke about the ships that they traveled on as vessels. That immediately started to make me think about what a vessel really is because we consider ourselves vessels. That’s something that I’ve utilized in my work before looking at this documentary, so it made me go back and assess what a vessel really is, what it actually looks like, and what kind of impact vessels have on our life.

In our conversation, Lakea speaks about her conceptual use of vessels. She shared with me that she has been working with vessels for many years,because the baskets she weaves together have historically been used to store and carry items. While Lakea’s work takes visual cues from traditional African works, she says that there is no specific reference or region that she draws inspiration from. Her innate desire to create intricate vessels and masks has led her to produce works that reflect her own history combined with elements of Black history overall. 

JP: How has your work changed over time?

LS: Each series that I make is often completely different than the last. Even though I do that, I still take bits and pieces from previous series and incorporate them into new ones. The biggest change within my work has just been trying to release old habits. I have always been very strict about how I go about making my work, because I want to be able to follow the plan that I’ve created. But as time goes on, I’m learning to release some of that control in order to let intuitiveness into my work.

From here, our conversation changed course as I asked Lakea to reflect on her experiences as a resident artist and what it’s been like living here in Houston. 

JP: How has having an open studio affected your artistic practice?

LS: So, this is my first time having an open studio within my residency and it has been interesting. When I first arrived, I felt like I had to actually “put on the show.” But I got to a point where people are going to have to accept my process just the way that it is. No matter if I’m dancing in my studio at the time, or just being extremely focused. So having an open studio has really opened my mind to a bunch of things that I never would have known. So many people have intellectual gems that I never would have found, and I’ve also had people who were inspired enough by my work to donate materials.

JP: What is the biggest change you’ve seen since beginning your residency?

LS: I’m an introvert, so I don’t naturally gravitate towards people. But this experience has helped me open up to people in a different way. This experience has left an impression on me as far as just being open, and being able to actually speak about and share my work and process. In addition to never really being afraid to expose myself in fear of my ideas being stolen.

JP: What will you take away from your experience here at HCCC?

LS: I’ve had to constantly embrace change within my work. That’s been extremely difficult for me, to just be  true to myself and where I am, and understand that I embrace who I am and put that on display for others to see, and possibly judge. I’m always evolving, and I’m an extremely complex Black woman, and I feel like my work has to reflect that no matter what.

Part of the 2022-23 cycle of resident artists, Lakea concludes her time at HCCC in May 2023. 

This past March, I joined Yeonsoo Kim in his studio to learn about his creative process. During our visit, Yeonsoo walked me through his artistic journey and gave insight into where his inspirations, message, and style stem from. Additionally, we touched on his experience at HCCC, and discussed what it’s like living in Houston after traveling for various artist residency programs. However, we began our conversation with an introduction to Yeonsoo and his craft.

The conversation that follows has been edited for length and clarity.

James Pickens: How long have you been an artist, and how did you begin working with ceramics?

Yeonsoo Kim: I’ve been working with art since high school, so almost 20 years. I loved drawing and painting first, and one of my teachers had a double major: painting and sculpture. So that’s why I’m experienced with clay.

JP: How would you describe your style or particular type of craft?

YK: I started off with the onggi demonstration, which is making big pots.

JP: When did you begin working with the onggi form?

YK: I’m really influenced by, and through, certain techniques. So that’s why I decided to pursue the apprenticeship with the masters. That totally changed my life because not only did it enhance my skill set, but also was like, you know, a life lesson. So not only practic[ing] every day in the studio, but also I can see the philosophy, and how to manage a studio. And I mean, in terms as an artist, how to start life.

JP: Where do you look for inspiration?

YK: You know, I often go to the museum and it’s still my favorite hobby. I look at a lot of good stuff and then some pieces really touch my heart and touch me. I say, “Oh, I want to make something like this.” And then, “I’ve never seen this one.” So I try to make something like that. So it’s a huge impact.

JP: Is media a part of your creation process?

YK: I often listen to music and sometimes listen to lectures. I like to see what’s out there. One of my favorite podcasts is about clay and the art field (Tales of a Red Clay Rambler). So I can hear about their own perspective and their own journey.

JP: How do you find new references?

YK: I like, you know, beauty, the Korean beauty. And then I was trying to find out my identity. I’m hugely influenced by Western culture, even though I grew up in Asia. But Nike, Jordan, that’s one of my heroes. And, you know, blue jeans and pop – Michael Jackson’s one of my heroes, too. So that’s why I try to sometimes mimic, and mix, my [influences] together. Everyone has their own favorite items. So that’s why I try to collect my own favorite items, which means that object, creature, being, memories, sense or story.

As Yeonsoo described his process of gathering information, I became curious about how and why he may incorporate certain inspirations into his practice. 

JP: What do you try to convey through your art?

YK: I try to do a diverse way of perspective. Which means, I try to do not only utilitarian pottery, but also make structures where I bring and condense 2D and 3D. I don’t know what’s the best way, but we are different and people have different perspectives, so that’s why I try to open many doors. Sometimes this way, sometimes that way, and if I’m feeling something I’ll do colors and drawing, or focus on making shapes and certain expressions.

JP: How has your ceramic art developed over the years?

YK: At the beginning, my art was simple. But somehow, since moving to the states, I’ve been trying to put more into each space. And that’s why I try to do storytelling and make something interesting. [I want] my work to bring something new, and that’s why I try to blend and collaborate. I even try to collaborate with my past self. Which means, when I look at my past work, I try to bring these moments and blend them together. And also, if I’m influenced by someone or a different inspiration, I try to put them together. I also spend a lot of time decorating. Sometimes it’s really stressful when I’m making something new. And I feel like, you know, I am just figuring out who I am as an artist.

In a prior conversation with Yeonsoo, he described to me how collaboration is always present in his work to some degree. While he collaborates with many other artists such as 2022 resident artist Jihye Han, Yeonsoo also spends much of his time contemplating who he is, who he’s been and who he may become. Within his art, he plays with these ideas by incorporating drawings, sketches, and 3D forms that represent stories, thoughts, and emotions that reflect his life experiences.

From here, our conversation changed course as I asked Yeonsoo to reflect upon his experiences as a resident artist and what it’s been like living here in Houston.

JP: How has working in different environments affected your practice?

YK: I feel like I’m just figuring out who I am as an artist. As human beings, we are hugely influenced by the environment. We see this in not only nature, but also [in] people and even structures and buildings. When I was in Montana, that location was really isolating somehow. But out of the studio I could see the deer just jumping into space, and [I] just say “hello,” and then I would just go walk outside and be in nature. And in terms as an artist, you know, sometimes isolation, is challenging

JP: How has living in Houston affected your practice?

YK: Since moving to Houston, you know, it’s been a good time to interact with people and get involved with the community. And also I’m enjoying going to opening receptions, meeting artists, and sharing our own perspectives and ideas.

To conclude our conversation, I asked Yeonsoo to tell me about the concepts and messages behind his work, how it’s changed, and what has influenced him the most since being in Houston.

YK: I’ve been thinking a lot about my relationships. First of all, I’ve been thinking about my relationship with myself, because I don’t want to just follow someone who says, “oh, this is the right way. This is more valuable for you,” stuff like that. When I was young, I didn’t know what my dream was. What did I really want to do? So, it’s been a good time to figure out who you are, who I am, and also what I really want to do. I love creating. I love making things. Making art is really meaningful for me because no one could make this work like me – so that’s the more valuable reason. And also I really like my work, and my job as an artist. So I hope the people enjoy my work and put the happiness and journeys into their life. Life is just too serious already. So I want to bring happiness to the people. Yeah, that’s the reason I make my work.

Part of the 2022-23 cycle of resident artists, Yeonsoo concludes his time in Houston in May 2023. 

This past February, I joined Rebekah Sweda in her studio to learn about her creative process. During our conversation, I watched her work while we went back and forth between the kiln and her studio. In that time, we covered topics spanning her influences, inspirations, and experiences at HCCC. Our conversion began with a brief introduction to her work, where she guided me through her artistic journey thus far.

The conversation that follows has been edited for length and clarity.

James Pickens: How long have you been an artist, and when did you start working with ceramics?

Rebekah Sweda: I’ve been doing ceramics professionally for about four years. I’ve been building my ceramics skills for about eight years, but haven’t been doing ceramics professionally for too long.

JP: What drew you to ceramics?

RS: I have a background in STEM, so I have a chemistry degree, and I’d always done art all my life. And I really, really loved that ceramics is this combination of art – like creativity and chemistry combined together.

JP: How would you describe your art?

RS: I’d say what I work on tends to be a either response or likeness to traditional Greco-Roman work, with a good amount of playfulness in color and sculpture.

As Rebekah described how she combines Greco-Roman influence with abstract expressionism, I became curious about her inspirations, and how she uses these elements to create vessels that contain her signature cutout and scribble designs.

JP: Where do you look for inspiration?

SW: Anytime that I go to a museum, or really am living life, and I see a vase or a piece that I love, I pretty much always take a photo of it and draw it in my sketchbook so I can see what aspects of it that I love. And I bring it back, and I try to bring it into more sketches of more pieces that I’m gonna make down the line.

JP: Are there any particular artists that influenced you?

RS: I grew up loving abstract expressionism. It’s a big part of my history growing up in art, so I take a lot of influences from abstract expressionists that I love. The one that’s influenced me probably the most over my making career is Clyfford Still. I really appreciate and love his way of using paint as not just color, but also substance and medium, and using canvas as a way of making the pieces really stand out, and really beautiful. His history in painting in general is fantastic. The artist that influenced me the most in Houston is going to be Cy Twombly. I found [that] out – coming here and getting to see Cy Twombly at the Menil has been so fantastic and beautiful, the lighting is gorgeous. And then I bought a book about his life after seeing the exhibition, and found out that he spent a lot of his making career in Italy.

Rebekah’s scribble designs were influenced by her love for the work of abstract expressionist Cy Twombly, who often used a similar technique. She notes that the use of cutouts in her work are like windows, which juxtapose the ultra-manicured nature of shaped and thrown pottery. This occurs because the cutout shows the contrast between what Rebekah molds the medium into on the outside, and what the clay makes of itself on the inside.

Another fact Rebakah shared with me is that rather than using glazes or paints she uses pigments to color the clay, and an inlay technique to embed her design into each piece. Interestingly, she only began doing this technique after teaching it in a college course, and deciding to use it for herself. From here, our conversation changed course and we focused on what media she takes in when working on a new piece. 

JP: Is media a part of your creation process?

RS: When it comes to pop culture and media, I love it. I love to consume it very much, and so much more so in the sense that there’s been this movement within media of learning how to express emotions again, and doing it in a very safe way where people [would] usually have, like, explosions. I came from a background that was all explosions in my household. So, the conversations of people talking about how to express emotion in a safe and honest way while not denying yourself has been like a really big influence, though I know it’s not pop culture. It has been part of the culture that I’ve been listening to and hearing that has influenced my art the most. I think of one part of the emotions that I think of, with the mark making, is letting go when I’m making.

JP: What media do you consume while working? For instance, what music do you listen to?

RS: [laughs] It’s sort of something that I’ve always wanted to hide a little bit, because I feel like people don’t take people who play video games very seriously. I consume [them] really all the time! And so, a lot of [what] I do while I’m making is actually listen to other people play video games. Things that I really enjoy listening to while I’m working, one is an album called Plantasia (1976), which are songs that were made either based on, or for, different plants. It’s really grounding and lovely. I’ve been listening to a lot of Remy Wolf, really enjoying her wonderful sort of rebellion in her music. And then I’m listening to video game soundtracks. I pretty much always listen to Mario Galaxy, it has really great theatrical pieces. And then, Zelda 64 has the best sounds, It’s great. It’s very nostalgic and wonderful.

To conclude our conversation, I asked Rebekah to reflect on changes she has seen in her art, in addition to which sentiments she’ll take with her following her residency at HCCC.

JP: How has your work developed and changed over time?

RS: I’ve been trying to move my work into the direction of trying to celebrate community. I used to just put loneliness into my pieces, and now I have much more happiness in my life, and I’m trying to see how that reflects in the pieces. I think the residencies have been pinpoints in that reflection. So, the residencies that I’ve done before were really isolating. I never talked to anybody. I never worked with anybody. And I was by myself all the time. And so coming [to HCCC], realizing what community can be, and getting to celebrate that while I’m here has been so healing for me.

JP: What can you take away from your experience here at HCCC?

RS: I think, for me, HCCC is… just a really wonderful healing time for me. So what I’m taking away from it is a re-affirmation of artists and art communities, and people’s engagement in art. I think beforehand I just wasn’t having any engagement at all, and I wasn’t talking to anybody. And so being here has helped me with that. And I know I’m going to take that into the future. I’m starting a studio in the future, and I want to take the vivaciousness and the wonderful community here, and help my community in my town and have that as well. You know, those folks are everywhere and I want to find them.

Part of the 2022-23 group of resident artists, Rebekah concluded her time in Houston in February 2023, and has since returned home to Michigan. 

HCCC: Why were you interested in this residency program?

Carl Johnson: I would say that, in large part, it was the interaction with the public and the ability to have an open-door studio. I could have dialogue with the public, who may have never met an artist before, or who maybe were an artist themselves and were interested in what other people are doing. By having my own studio, I could also work and explore my work with no restrictions. The location also appealed to me. I hadn’t spent much time in Houston, and it’s exciting to learn a new city.

I also like that it’s not a museum where things are just on the wall, but where the public can see who is behind the art. I like giving insights into my work, and sharing what I do with other people.

HCCC: How did you become a weaver?

Carl Johnson: I went to college to study textile design for fashion and upholstery. The program required me to take a weaving class, so I took it as quickly as possible. I wanted to get it over with, so I could get back to digital textile designs. I ended up loving it, so much so that I studied both weaving and design through college. After graduation, I decided to focus solely on weaving.

What’s interesting is that I didn’t know art school was a thing when I was in high school, until my art teacher told me I was going to go to art school. They then gave me a list of schools to look at so that I could pursue the arts.

HCCC: What attracted you to weaving with metals?

CJ: I had done a weaving project early on using really thin-gauge wire. I didn’t think much of it at the time but revisited the idea months later. I had a really ambitious idea to weave a 25-yard-long piece of fiber, with wire in both the warp and weft. I didn’t know it was even possible to weave something that long on the loom I was working on at the time. After finishing that piece, I had become more comfortable working with wire and decided I wanted to explore it in more depth, jumpstarting my career weaving with metals.

HCCC: Where are you from?

CJ: Washington, D.C.

HCCC: What do you like best about living in Houston so far?

CJ: I’d say how diverse of a community there is, that I have met through the Center and through playing ultimate frisbee. I love how accepting and inclusive these two groups can be.

HCCC: What did you find the most different from where you’ve lived before?

CJ: The most different thing is probably the traffic!

HCCC: Flour or corn tortillas?

CJ: Flour.

HCCC: If you could be a dinosaur, what would you be?

CJ: Do I have to be able to spell it? No? Then a pterodactyl.

To learn more about Carl Johnson’s artwork, visit his website.

Your support of the Annual Fund makes it possible for HCCC to host artists like Carl, and to provide them with monthly stipends, studio access, and professional development, among many other benefits. Please consider a donation today.

Mary Karcher: How have you evolved as an artist/maker during your time at HCCC?

 Abi Ogle: My time at HCCC has definitely been a time of listening to stories, being delighted by the proximity of (simply put) REMARKABLE makers, and a chance to explore the really incredible resources that the Craft Center provides. For me, personally, my six months here have been a time of growth, a chance to explore materials and concepts, and to make uninhibited (which has been SUCH a gift).

MK:  You have made some really incredible work during your time at HCCC – what piece has challenged you during your time here, and what piece has delighted you?

 AO: Challenged: The Jabuticaba explorations have been an interesting challenge. When I was first told about the Jabuticaba tree, I was completely freaked out by it. It’s a really strangely repulsive tree, and yet it kept beckoning to me. Again and again, I’d return to research on it, despite the strange horror I was experiencing in looking at it. I still feel like I’m wrestling with the material, but that’s been part of the process, too. It’s something that feels parasitic, but is also enticing. I’ve worked with desire/repulsion before, but this somehow feels different. It’s been a neat avenue to explore, and I’m excited with how the pieces have evolved over the last few months.

Delighted: I have really just fallen in LOVE with the grapefruit. In the first few months of my residency, I bought a bag of Texas Ruby Red Grapefruits, thinking, “This feels like a winter-in-Houston kind of thing to do,” and it really just snowballed into delighting over the beauty and complexity of the fruit. I was astonished by the way each membrane took on a life of its own, how it begged to be looked at and marveled over. Not only that, but eating grapefruit is something I very much enjoy, so it became a ritual full of delight, even though it was something that I did in great quantities. Not to mention, it was really special to get to use materials from the Craft Garden. Using Wood Oat stems was a neat way of making this piece even more specific to my time here in Houston than it would have been otherwise.

MK:  Why do you enjoy working in craft?

AO: For me, craft is a chance to explore broadly, to fall in love with materials, and to share memories associated with those materials. As a fiber artist, my understanding of fiber moves from things like human hair, to grapefruit membranes, to panty hose, and beyond — because all of these things are essentially fibers. Working as a craft artist reminds me that I am part of an art historical tradition that ties me to the makers who have come before me. It’s amazing to consider this. I mean, think about it, for all of humanity, we have made things, delighted in materials, adorned our bodies, explored nature around us, and created really interesting things. Often, I think about how working in craft is a way of remembering.  We spend time making things, and they become tangled with meaning, whether that’s because of a pre-existing association with a material, or what compels us to make the object, or what is happening in our surroundings. It’s a distinctly human thing, to make, and it’s something I deeply enjoy.

MK: How do you feel your residency at HCCC has prepared you for your next move?

 AO: Not only has my time here allowed me a space to develop my practice, but it has given me the tools and the confidence to be in conversation with other folks. It’s allowed me to invite people into my practice and share with them why I believe art is worth making–and how they, too, are a part of the conversation–but it’s also given me time. I’ve been able to spend countless hours in the studio after the Craft Center has closed, and because of this chance to diligently work, I’ve been able to make and make and make — something I’m incredibly grateful for. During my time here, I’ve made valuable connections, too, both with the artists I’ve come in contact with, and with different folks from all over the U.S., who have recommended new experiences or opportunities. It’s given me the chance to grow, to make, and to look forward to the next opportunities with expectant hope.

MK: Why do you think residencies are an important part of an artist’s career?

 AO: Residencies are a chance to be in communion with other contemporary artists, to be a part of incredible communities, and to learn a lot about listening and making. If we’re making art, but not actually talking to anyone about what we are creating, or what others are creating, I think we miss something really important. Not only that, but the community that is created is something really sensational. At the Craft Center, there is an opportunity to be both in community with viewers AND other artists. It’s helpful and worthwhile to hear what questions a kid has about your work, or what someone who is not a maker in the traditional sense delights in or critiques. It’s also a chance to be in conversations with artists from all stages of life and practice and material focus that validate and challenge you as a maker. Not to mention, when else do you get to make unrestricted AND be in conversation with amazing folks? Residencies are a really generous gift, one that, if you’re willing to engage generously with, will richly give you a great deal of good in return. I think when we take the time to listen to others and grow from what they say, a really important kind of work is made possible, and that’s something I’ve certainly gotten to be a part of here at the HCCC.

To learn more about Abi Ogle, visit https://aogleart.com.

Felicia Leyva: When did you first begin working with clay, and what do you love most about this medium?

Maxwell Mustardo: I began dabbling with clay in high school, after being denied entry into my preferred class in film and video. I didn’t begin considering making ceramics as a kind of viable path until I started visiting Toshiko Takaezu in her home studio, which is nearby my family’s home in northern New Jersey. There’s very little that I dislike about clay. It’s an immensely expansive medium, from Neolithic cooking pots to NASA’s rocketship plating to geological structures to the curious things kindergarteners make. It is polyphonic—singing with multiple disparate voices in a single harmony. There are so many ways to approach and enjoy it.

FL: Are there any specific artists or movements that inspire or influence your work?

MM: Toshiko Takaezu and Ken Price would probably be the most direct and dominant influences in recent times. Toshiko’s poetic use of volume and roundness… Ken Price’s irreverent approach to the medium, absolutely resplendent surfaces, and intriguing forms. Both were prolific, dedicated makers. I’m drawn to that voracious intensity around production. Lots of other sources enter into my work—I’ll rattle off some, in no particular order: Yagi Kazuo, Anish Kapoor, Picasso’s and Braque’s early Cubist works, the Futurists’ textual works, ancient clay tablets, medieval Shigaraki ware, Takuro Kuwata… and so forth.

FL: Can you speak a little about what a toroid is and what drew you to experimenting with this form in your work? What led you to exploring with merging the toroid with the form of a coffee mug? What have you discovered from this process?

MM: The toroid is a form I’ve been working with for a couple of years now, on and off. For me, it’s been a kind of intersection of geometry, vessels, and bodies. I’m most interested in the continuous contour—an edgeless object—and stressing the relationship of interior and exterior. The mug series came out of similar notions. These mugs are a kind of a cliché jab, taking a classic, un-intrusive, and widely recognizable ceramic form and contorting it to satisfy my own desires.

FL: As part of your studio practice, you are constantly experimenting with glazes, which contribute to the unique textures and surfaces of your works. Can you elaborate on your creative process for experimenting with glazes?

MM: My making process is fairly organic. I usually work on a few series at once, slowly developing them and occasionally overlapping certain elements. Forms evolve the need for new surfaces, and the discovery of new surfaces requires new forms. Or, I’ll have one simple form, like the torus or mug, and I’ll take it around town with a number of different surfaces just to see what happens. There is a nice cycle that occurs, and momentum builds as new avenues continually open up. Generally though, the chemistry involved in clays and glazes is a magical thing. I am endlessly fascinated and often astonished by how these materials behave.

FL: When do you finally decide that a piece’s shape is finished?

MM: Clay is kind enough to nudge me and provide some natural deadlines. There is a lovely choreography involved with wet clay—only a certain number of moves are appropriate at various stages of drying. Timing is built into the material. Once things begin to get fired, it becomes a little more arbitrary. Some pieces go through many glaze firings until they don’t look awful, others sit around unglazed for a month until some potentially appropriate surface treatment presents itself. Nothing really seems finished until it leaves the studio and enters into the world.

FL: Could you let us know what you’ll be doing after your residency at HCCC, in December and into the new year?

MM: Starting January of 2020, I’ll be a resident ceramist at the Sonoma Community Center in Sonoma, CA. I currently have work on display at the Center for Contemporary Art in Bedminster, NJ; the Craft Forms 2019 show at the Wayne Art Center in Wayne, PA; the Dimensional show at the Sabine Gallery in Houston Texas; and the Twelfth Annual Cup Show: Form and Function at the Amelia Center Gallery in Panama City, Florida. I’ll be having my first solo show in April, 2020, at the Center for Contemporary Art in Bedminster, NJ; my first duo show in May, 2020, with Grant Akiyama at the Foothills Ceramic Art Museum in Auburn, CA; and my second solo show in June, 2020, at the Sonoma Art Center in Sonoma, CA.

Former HCCC resident artist Audrey LeGalley in her installation, “Girlhood Scary” (2019), featured in “Ghostly Demarcations” at Blue Star Contemporary. Photo courtesy of Barbara Miñarro.

Grace Winburne: Though your pieces deal with heavy subject matter, the porcelain that you use to create your installations is delicate and fragile. Why do you choose to work with porcelain, and how do you see the material relating to your subject matter as you address the theme of domesticity?

Audrey LeGalley: The visual weight of the material isn’t directly indicative of emotional weight in this work. The emotional aspects are explored through implied fragility and anxiety that is emphasized through delicate forms. I use porcelain in my work because most viewers understand an immediate reference to its break-ability, encouraging a sense of anxiety in the viewer. I also think it’s important that the material I use is found in domestic spaces—normally, porcelain has a place in the average American home. It’s used for tile and dinnerware. I’m taking the material out of its intended purpose in the home and using it in dangerous and impractical ways, to address themes of insecurity within the home.

Audrey LeGalley, “Bed,” 2019. Porcelain, silica, epoxy, found linens, foam mattress.Photo courtesy of Barbara Miñarro.

GW: Mental health issues can stem from one’s experiences, regardless of their home environment. How do you see a girl’s relationship with the objects in her home relating to issues that could be occurring internally? How do you see these thoughts and feelings reflected in the physical space a girl resides in?

AL: My work focuses more on the nurture portion of mental health and the role that family plays in that. I’m interested in how the unstable home environment can encourage and cultivate issues of anxiety in children. My installations are made up of porcelain, implying a sense of anxiety in the space–encouraging the viewer to imagine interacting with the fragile furniture and objects. Although the theoretical “girl” is interacting with these objects in an emotional capacity, I interpret the furniture to be more of a symbolically external force than internal. The objects reference sources of anxiety in the home space, such as other family members and circumstances. The work does, however, indirectly address internal susceptibility to mental illness, as this predisposition is part of the onset of mental health issues–even when encouraged by external factors. My installations are constructed with an intentionally sterile feeling that I think implies a coldness that gives a hint that something isn’t right or comfortable. Also nodding to early tendencies of orderliness in anxious children.

Audrey LeGalley, “Toy Shelves,” 2019. Porcelain, silica, epoxy. Photo courtesy of Barbara Miñarro.

GW: The objects you make represent different aspects of the home and growing up that focus on the emotional dimension of physical space. Your work stems from a childhood spent growing up in a pre-digital world. Nowadays, there is an aspect of one’s girlhood that lives online through social media and the way we communicate digitally. How do you see your representations of girlhood engaging with the Digital Age and the way our culture has shifted?

AL: I really like this question! Throughout this series, I have been focused on objects and spaces referential of my own girlhood—a time when the most advanced technology in the house was a first-generation ipod shuffle. While contemporary children still interact with furniture and domestic objects, they also gain much of their personal identity from the internet. Girls are starting to create Instagram accounts at age 10. I hardly have the emotional maturity at age 23 to handle Instagram’s effect on self-perception and worth. While in my work, I focus on familial relationships and settings that affect mental health, a future exploration of the role of technology with the young girl might be an interesting avenue. I’m not yet sure how that would materialize visually, as I generally work objects based, and these themes are slightly less tangible. However, there is definitely plenty of anxiety whirling around on the internet to explore.

Audrey LeGalley, “Hand Towel,” 2019. Porcelain and found towel. Photo courtesy of Barbara Miñarro.

Audrey LeGalley, “Slippers,” 2019. Porcelain and found rug. Photo courtesy of Barbara Miñarro.

GW: In mainstream culture, craft is often associated with functional objects. Your work challenges that, as the objects you make can’t serve the function that they appear to serve. What does disrupting the object’s function mean for you and your art?

AL: There is an expected functionality of clay, and I am making objects that traditionally do serve a physical purpose. This expectation can give the work more weight, I think. It really encourages the viewer to visualize themselves interacting with the space and objects as they would in their own home. This functionality allows the viewer to understand the material more intimately. Everyone knows what it’s like to hold a tea cup in their hand; they understand the fragility there. In removing the object from its functionality, it becomes a purely metaphorical object, a visual discussion of anxiety. Taking the traditional function away encourages thought and curiosity in regard to the work.

Installation view of “Girlhood Scary” (2019) at Houston Center for Contemporary Craft. Photo by Katy Anderson.

About Audrey LeGalley

Audrey LeGalley is a sculptural artist from San Antonio, Texas. Her work explores the relationship between the body and the home, focusing on girlhood and fragility through porcelain sculptures.  Audrey graduated with her BFA in studio art from The Southwest School of Art in 2018 and begins her MFA in studio art at the University of Texas at San Antonio this fall. For more information, please visit www.audreylegalley.com.