Tell us a little bit about yourself and what you do.
I am an artist and educator, originally from Birmingham Alabama but I’ve lived in Chicago for about 18 years now. Right now I work part-time as an assistant manager at the Fabrication Center at the Illinois Institute of Technology, where I also teach woodshop and fabrication to first-year architecture students. I also freelance as a fabricator and art-handler/preparator and have been doing that kind of work for various institutions and artists for about 15 years now.
How do you think being an art handler and fabricator informs your art practice?
I make a lot of work about work–mostly because I’m always working. That feels like a central truth that a lot of people can relate to. I’m really interested in the ways different types of labor show up and overlap in art spaces. I mean we call it “artwork,” and there’s so much behind-the scenes effort involved in getting art seen on both the front and back ends and that’s a deep source of fodder for my studio practice.
When I talk about labor in my work, I really mean it in a broader, more metaphysical sense–not just physical effort, but the act of doing, making, and shaping things in a real world. My practice reflects the muddy relationship I have with art-making and the instability of working on both sides of that space–as someone who installs and supports other artists’ work while also trying to make my own, make money, and find sustainability in a really unique economy.
Being an arts worker has tied me to the infrastructure of art in a really specific way. It’s made me think differently about how meaning is built–literally and conceptually–and how that shifts depending on your role in a space. Teaching fabrication has added another layer, considering practicality and utility while balancing concepts and the larger implications of exchanging knowledge, effort and time. There’s a pain and pleasure in trying to sort through how to value the application of that work so I’ll probably never be able to divorce myself from that as a reference point.
When doing commissions, is it important that you keep a personal touch to what you’re creating?
Commissions are really fun to me because it’s a perfect convergence of considering how creative exchange works and where that butts up against ethics and value systems. I shied away from doing straight fabrication commissions for a long time because there was always so much tension around the creative decision making that it caused me too much stress on delivery. It was easier if things were laid out one way or the other–my creative work being instigated by some specific parameters (like, something to fit into a particular space, or made of a particular material), OR you need five stretchers made from poplar with specific dimensions. I crave the opportunity to allow those things to clash, alas when things are for other artists, it gets messy. No one would want to call me a collaborator if they paid me to make it to their specs. I guess it’s an ongoing investigation.
What is it like living in Chicago? How does this affect your many roles in the art industry/world?
I mean I love Chicago. It’s a blue collar town and there’s always something happening…I just thrive on that energy. When I first moved here after high school I thought I was going to be a musician/singer-songwriter. That didn’t really pan out (turns out chain-smoking American Spirits outside of The Subterranean didn’t come with a retirement plan), but even meandering down that road led me to meet people that propelled me forward. If you are friendly, professional, and dedicated, you can make it in Chicago. It’s easy to cross-pollinate in the industry when you open yourself to opportunities and become your own yesman. People remember your name when you show up and people see that you are sincere. Faking it til you’re making it can still be sincere, right? I think Chicago and the people in it are the only reason I’ve had any success. It’s a constant source of inspiration and there’s a massive and varied creative community here. Some day I’ll move out to the woods but for now I’m still a city-gal trying not to lose my tools.
How did you typically find yourself becoming involved in commission-based or fabrication projects?
These days usually by referral. Someone will share my name if they need something moved, made or modified. It’s very flattering to have that kind of reputation among my peers!
What are some recent, upcoming or current projects you are working on?
Oh boy. So much. I just showed a hickory wet floor sign with this really amazing highlighter yellow stain that I’m obsessed with right now. I had ChatGPT write me a long-form word of caution in the style of Jane Austin and it is still cracking me up. All of the text is laid on with this painstaking procedure of masking and melting on black furniture repair wax. I’m really excited by that so there will be more objects in that vein. Other things in the works… some poplar caution tape, ceramic tin cans, wax matchsticks, plaster brick walls and a single-use fireplace. I have several shows coming up that I’m preparing for so my studio is particularly chaotic right now. I think I’m always working on five things at once because something always needs time to dry!
A lot of your work is inspired by tools. Do you understand them more as statements or designed objects?
This is an interesting question because all tools are designed objects but they can make statements depending on how they’re used or presented, right? I always thought it was funny to think about tools in art spaces, probably because as a preparator the last thing you do before the opening is hide all your tools. You wouldn’t want anyone to know how it all came together, that would be too messy and distracting. If you see tools in the gallery it must be an artwork because it shouldn’t be “doing” anything. Playing with that is pretty pivotal to how I see my practice as a whole. It’s kind of cheeky and pretty relevant to my perspective as an artist.
How did your interest in your work begin?
I think the series that really set things in motion for me was a series of drywall blueprints I started around 2018. It was one of the first projects I took on after stepping away from running Autotelic, the nonprofit studio organization I founded in 2010. Letting go of that role gave me the space to reconnect with my own practice, and that series marked a shift–both in what I was making and how I was thinking about labor, materials, and the structures we use and surround ourselves with.
The content of those pieces were all from plans made or practical sketch ups for projects I was working on at my job (design mock-ups, shopping lists, project layouts) and they were painstakingly carved into this super buffed plaster that I dyed with deep blue masonry stain. It was a huge mess and the pieces were super fragile but they hold a special place in my heart.
Do you have a specific process when you enter the studio?
Usually I start with a good hour of cleaning and organizing. I’m terrible at cleaning up after myself when I’m tired at the end of a studio hang, so I leave that work for future Andi. It’s good for me though because it helps me get reoriented with what I was doing, put things back where they go so I can pull them out again instead of digging through to find stuff. I don’t like not knowing where things are so that process is important. My husband and I call it my Eye Spy brain. I like to know where things are or it stresses me out. I’m not a clean person but I am organized. Mostly.
Does the arts community of Chicago play an important role in supporting your practice?
Absolutely! I have been given many jobs, exhibition and teaching opportunities, connections and project support by the many wonderful folks that live here. Not only do they inform and support my practice, but they have helped me find resources, helped me move things, problem-solved alongside me… I am very grateful for what Chicago has given me as an artist.
What do you want someone to ideally walk away with after experiencing your work?
I think ultimately I want people to feel that my work is accessible. I mean that intellectually and creatively. I want people to think my work can be funny and deeply interesting at the same time, that it can be investigated in longform or appreciated with a swift double-take. I want people to think about what art is or what it can be, how it was made, and how weird and wild it is to make things at all in a world that’s already so full of stuff.
My work does a lot of pointing. I often start with objects or images that tether the idea to something that already exists in the world, and I hope that gives people a starting point to really dig in. I really love philosophy, metaphysics and critically examining contemporary art economics, but I don’t think everyone needs to share my own nerdy interests to have an appreciation for the objects that I make. I’m truly just excited to make things and talk about art with anyone who cares.
Do you think collaboration is an inherent part to your fabrication or art making projects?
Sometimes! I love bouncing ideas off of people and showing my colleagues works-in-progress. They always give me great feedback and I can really focus my plans and processes once it’s pushed through someone else’s lens. My husband JP is an amazing person to talk to about my work because he is absolutely my harshest critic and my biggest supporter. He is also a professional arts worker and has a deep understanding of how work is conceived and received. That feedback is something I value deeply in my personal and professional relationships. We share our skepticisms about the art world and our frustrations with its inner workings and vast inequities and it keeps my approach safely between too optimistic or too pessimistic. Everything I do is always kind of floating around in space among people through its entire process of becoming.
What are you really excited about right now?
I am really excited (and really anxious) about an upcoming solo exhibition at the Cleve Carney Museum of Art this fall. It is my first major solo show and I am just giddy about the opportunity to show my work in this particular place since I used to work there as a preparator. I think the curator Justin Witte and I share an understanding about how much work goes into object-making and exhibition-making, so being able to work with him on this side of the walls is really something I am really looking forward to.
Is there anything you’re reading or watching right now that you’ve been thinking of a lot?
I am making my way through a very thick but very inspiring book called Surface and Essences by Douglas Hofstadter and Emmanuel Sander about analogy and how we conceptualize the world around us through association. I also just finished watching the latest season of The Rehearsal and I think it is one of the most important works in recent television history!
Do you ever find it difficult to stay consistent when navigating so many different aspects of creating?
Yes. Every day I wake up exhausted and by the time I get to where I’m going I’m excited to be there. Repeat!
Can you share one of the best or worst reactions you have gotten as a result of your work?
My mother-in-law once asked, “Why would anyone want that?” in response to a ceramic extension cord piece I was working on. I felt so seen. It was really a great question.
Interview conducted and edited by Liam Owings