Tell us a little bit about yourself and what you do.
My name is Jacqueline Surdell. I’m a Chicago-based artist who was born and raised in Bucktown, Chicago. I work in fiber, sculpture, and installation, and my work spans concepts relating to memory, history, power, and the human experience. My primary materials are rope, cord, fabric, and steel.
Could you describe your practice?
Existing somewhere between intimacy and desire, my work revels in the joy of repetitive, ritualistic motion. I use macramé, weaving, and knotting techniques to wrap, weave, and knot nylon dock cable as a connecting drawing device. It is a transformative process that combines reedy and slack with volume and shape. The technique’s performative, ritualistic nature produces base-relief wall, floor, and ceiling sculptures constructed of industrial rope and steel. Compositionally, the works appear topographical, echoing my approach of collaging topographic landscapes, images, and drawings that serve as a guideline for the pieces. I choose locations, architectures, and places that are meaningful, either emotionally, psychologically, or topically. This highly visual approach connects the work to histories of modern and contemporary painting. At the same time, the material and craft-based processes embrace concepts of labor, the body, and process, anchoring the work in the history of fiber and textiles, with visual and conceptual references to artists such as Faith Wilding, Sheila Hicks, and Mrinalini Mukherjee. Playing with focus, perspective, and translation between collage, painting, sculpture, and installation allows the work to both embrace and reject traditional categorizations in favor of deeper discussion around material, place, sexuality, and identity.
How did your interest in art begin?
My grandmother (my Oma) is an artist. She moved from Amsterdam to Toronto after WWII to get married and have kids at 20 years old. She was only able to pursue painting later in life. She lived in Beaufort, South Carolina, where she and my Opa ran an inn for several years. Her home was one of those classic southern A-frame houses with a dock. Ospreys nested on the end of the dock, and when we visited, we would go shrimp fishing. It was honestly a pretty overwhelming experience for a gal who grew up in Bucktown, Chicago (that’s probably why I remember it so vividly). She had a painting studio on the second floor. It was in my Oma’s studio that I felt like I could see the vulnerable side of her, a very intense adult woman, connected to the curious and wonder-filled child within me at that moment. Studio spaces are so raw and personal, and hers was no different. Her studio was like a laboratory, filled with beautiful light and incredible natural objects like fossils, shark teeth, nests, feathers, Knick nacks, photos, collages, and material experiments. She received beautiful cursive letters from her sisters residing in Amsterdam and Montreal. My great aunt Anne is an artist as well, and many of her paintings were mounted throughout the house and in the studio. It smelled like sunlight and oil paint. And then there were her paintings!! I was in awe of her skill, and I was in awe of her. I wanted to be close to this side of her, and I wanted to stay in this room of wonder and discovery forever. I would implore her to allow me to sleep in the room during our visits, much to her dismay!
Eventually, she blew up an air mattress for me, and if I was lucky, my cousins, brother, or the family cat, Panther, would join the slumber party. It was kind of magical, and it warms my heart to think back on that time and this interwoven relationship between art making, family, and domestic life. I didn’t know how much it would shape me, and I remain really grateful for those experiences.
Wolfgang Liab’s practice.
Poetics of Space.
The frescos in Giotto’s Chapel.
While residing in Tokyo for the month of May, I saw Theaster Gate’s solo exhibition at the Mori Art Museum several times.
Nezu museum + gardens.
Ancient architectures, catholic architectures, and memorial architectures.
The olympic games
Rachael DeLue: American Landscape
Jenni Sorkin
Who are some of your favorite artists?
Of all time?! It’s hard to say… hard to choose really…here goes:
Lenore Tawney, Carolee Schneemann, Albrecht Durer, Hieronymus Bosch, (i’ve always had a crush on Donatello and Tommaso Masaccio), I think i’m secretly in love with monet (god help me), Agnes Martin, Wolgang Liab, Vija Celimins, Georgia Okeef, Kawahara Keiga, Bruce Nauman, John Cage, Anselm Kiefer, Harmony Hammond, mathew barney, barbara chase riboud, faith wilding, Magdelena Ab, Sheila Hicks, Sanford Biggers, Ernesto Neto , Tara Donovan, Kennedy Yanko, Ugo Rondinone, Shinique Smith, magdalena abakanowicz, Eva Hesse, Louise Bourgeois, Vito Acconci, Kerry James Marshall, Cady Noland, Mark Bradford, Sônia Gomes, Rodney McMillian, Beverly Fishman, Richard Serra, Robert Morris, …
Honestly the list goes on and on.
What is one of the bigger challenges you and/or other makers are struggling with these days and how do you see it developing?
I think there’s a general struggle with purpose—finding what you want to say and why. Why make art today? What does it mean to make this choice every day? To create every day? It’s a constant struggle, honestly. Coming out of a conceptual graduate school made it difficult for me to accept that I create work because I enjoy it and the dialogue it fosters. Just a simple connection with people. It’s case by case, of course. I hope everyone can find their purpose and feels empowered to create for themselves. I promise it’s not selfish. I can’t tell you how many times art has saved me in some way—how feeling connected to an artist or place long since past has grounded me and provided solace in one way or another. It’s a gift.
What are the main motifs in your work?
Some recurring motifs are literal circles, supporting the idea of repetitive cycles such as seasons, life, and death, all of which are aspects of the human condition. Time passes and the light changes throughout the day.
What are some recent, upcoming or current projects you are working on?
Recent:
For the month of May, I lived and worked in Tokyo to prepare for my first solo exhibition in Japan, titled Bliss! My sincerest thanks to Gallery COMMON for supporting me in this endeavor. It was some of the most grueling, wonderful, and transformative weeks of my life.
A bit about the project:
Gallery Common is delighted to announce American artist Jacqueline Surdell’s first solo exhibition in Japan. “Bliss!” will open from May 25 to June 23, with a reception for the artist on May 24. The exhibition will present entirely new works made during the artist’s month-long residency in Tokyo, centering around large sculptural wall pieces and installation works that continue her exploration into the relationship between landscape, the body, and spirituality.
Current:
My contribution to the current group exhibition, Making Time, curated by Stephen Eichhorn, at SECRIST | BEACH is a monumental piece measuring approximately 19’x12′ (maybe larger?). I’m currently working on the piece on-site, with plans to finish it by August 17th. I am incredibly excited about the challenge and grateful for the opportunity to undertake this scale of work and installation. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. The gallery currently has the partially finished work installed along with my materials, reference images, and sketches—my studio of sorts. We will unveil the finished piece on August 17th, accompanied by exciting gallery programming in conjunction with Stephen Eichhorn’s solo show, VOIDGROUNDS.
What do you want a viewer to walk away with after seeing your work?
I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and sometimes I still want the viewer to leave feeling “impressed.” I was a competitive volleyball player for over 10 years, so I grew up encouraged to perform and encouraged to prove myself to others. It was a challenging transition going from a performance- based lifestyle to being alone in the studio. For years, I consistently employed the same methodology, striving to establish my own credibility and demonstrate the validity, importance, and criticality of my work. It was miserable and took away from the honesty and joy I find in my process. It kept me isolated from my artistic communities because I felt ashamed of what I had to say—either too much or not good enough to share. In this state of fear, it’s nearly impossible to be vulnerable, and honest work necessitates being unapologetic and terrifyingly vulnerable.
I think a lot about what it means to produce things in an overcommodified world, and for a long time I felt self-conscious that the space I took up was wasteful. However, as my body ages and the realities of life humble me in my older years, I hope that viewers walk away from my work with a sense of personal validation, a sense that perhaps it will be OK in some way. As a person and an artist within this creative community, I aspire to be safe—someone who provides affirmation and fulfillment to my relationships. I genuinely enjoy witnessing the success of those around me, and I aspire to be the kind of person people can turn to when they’re feeling unsure. As an Air sign, there’s nothing I enjoy more than finding ways to fan that inner creative flame. I will be the devil on your shoulder, giving you permission to do the thing you want to do. That honestly excites the shit out of me. Many times, I wished I had someone like this in my corner, so I took it upon myself to become that person. I see this as a way for me to contribute in a way that feels authentic and honest, so why not make this part of my “work”?
DO THE GODDAMN THING.
How has living and working in Chicago impacted your work?
grit.
Do you have any daily rituals?
I love this question, I recently shared with a fellow saic alumni and friend that if I’m working in the studio somewhere there’s written “play like a champion today” and I touch or high five that note before getting started. Or before entering depending on the context.
Link
^a ritual that’s near and dear to my heart and really, really pumps me up.
I stretch and walk most days, yoga, weightlift, shoulder work, I think it’s important to stay mobile and physical in some way
Drink coffee/tea. Recently, I’ve been getting into matcha.
What do you collect?
Over the years, I discovered that 4-5 objects have joined my collection on their own accord. I’m not sure if this qualifies as collecting, but I find myself accidentally bringing these objects everywhere I go and then gathering them from wherever they haphazardly fall out of my pockets, bags, or storage bins. An example is a large round glass bead from my aunt’s old jewelry collection. She used to let me and my cousin make necklaces with the leftover beads. This bead is not particularly striking, other than the fact that it never leaves my side. I’m not particularly attached to it. I never feel like I actively hold onto it, lose it, or search for it, but every now and then, when I turn around and look down, there it is. It has been this strange cat- and-mouse game for more than a decade—spanning multiple moves, residencies, and studios, it is both strange and comforting.
What have you been listening to/reading lately?
Reading: Landscape theory, Poetics of space
Listening to: Assassin’s Blade, Burner Boy, Watching: The Olympics, Big Love
Interview conducted and edited by Lily Szymanski.