January Sun

Reflections & Musings

on winter and it’s rhythms

Winter in West Michigan necessitates a slowing. Gone are the summer days packed to the brim with beach outings. Fall’s apples have all been harvested. The squirrels have cashed an abundance of seeds, and now they spend their days conserving energy and gathering together for warmth. Deer layer up with winter coats. Meadow mice and brown bats, some of Michigan’s few species that undergo true hibernation, will not be seen again until spring. There’s lessons to be had here. The sun sets early and rises late. It creates a rhythm that’s easy to lean into, if only one listens. And at Ox-Bow, it’s easy to listen. Quiet mornings and cozy nights, many cups of tea and hours by the fireplace… these are staples of campus during Winter Session. 

Light and shadows on a snowy winter trail by a yellow cabin. Photo by Hannah Bugg, Digital Communications Assistant.

While the sun offers itself more sparingly during these months, its presence becomes all the more powerful. Its efforts double with the help of its seasonal companion: snow. It reflects not only light, but light’s energy (heat). At this time the sun is at its closest, making the light that reaches us its most intense. The summer rays were what originally drew Plein Air Painters to Ox-Bow’s meadow, but it’s the cut-to-the-chase winter sun that has my affections. It beams down to campus in a fashion that says, “I got here as fast as I could!” While the rest of us focus on a time of slow and steady, the sun hustles to keep us warm.

In the anthology Women Writing on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, the collection is divided into seasons. The section on winter accounts for nearly a third of the book. How appropriate, given that Michigan’s winter stretches well beyond its quarterly allocation. For winter, the poet Catie Rosemurgy writes in the anthology:

Why am I always being the weather?

There were days in the winter 

when her smile was so lovely I felt

the breathing of my own goodness,

During the months I’m not on Ox-Bow’s campus, it’s hard to “be the weather.” With air conditioning, overhead lights, and a surplus of hours spent indoors, I disconnect from my environment and create a half-hearted facsimile of one inside my apartment. Ox-Bow’s campus gives access to one of the few places where I can embody Rosemurgy’s poem. Winter’s smile beams over the frozen lagoon and illuminates the meadow. Her laughter manifests in the chatter of the goldfinches, sparrows, and crows. And her warmth (alongside the diligence of the maintenance team) keeps the hearth inside the dining hall roaring. Whereas summer at Ox-Bow promotes lively shenanigans and spirited adventures, winter draws intimate community and quiet conversation. We tip our hat to those lessons of nature. We draw together, cache books, layer ourselves with sweaters, nestle into studios. And when the sun emerges, we lift our heads and smile back at her.

A snowy lagoon on a blue-skied day. Photo by Hannah Bugg, Digital Communications Assistant.

2025 Musings with Abbey Muza, Faculty Member Teaching Soft Meaning: Weaving, Knitting, and Felting

How has winter greeted and treated you at Ox-Bow?

Abbey Muza: Winter session at Ox-Bow is such a joy! This session we have been lucky to get lots of snow, and looking out the window in class to see soft snowfall has been a great pleasure. 

What differing rhythms has winter Ox-Bow offered in comparison to the other iterations and seasonalities you’ve experienced on campus?

AM: Winter Ox-Bow feels slower and sweeter. With a smaller group of students, faculty, and staff on campus we have been able to really establish a community and get to know each other over the course of our two weeks. There have still been plenty of opportunities to get outside, too, around the fire or on the trails around Ox-Bow. 

How has your course interacted with the seasons, both its weather and spirit?

AM: We profited from the winter session in so many ways - first, working with fiber processes was such a great way to cozy up in the studio - washing a fleece, carding and spinning wool, and dyeing weaving, knitting, and felting. We also visited a local farm and got to feed the sheep and learn about fiber ecologies, discussed readings while walking to the Crow's Nest, and visited a textile-based artist's exhibition at Hope College. 

Abbey Muza uses weaving and other forms of image-making to explore narration, identity, image-making, and abstraction. They are interested in the specificities inherent in textile objects - for example, how image and content can be imbued into a textile, or the uniqueness of a textile object’s relationship to ways of seeing and being in the world. They have been an artist in residence at ACRE and Alternative Worksite, and have been a Fulbright France Harriet-Hale Wooley Awardee, a Leroy Neiman Fellow at the Oxbow School of Art, and a visiting artist at the École nationale supérieure des Arts Décoratifs in Paris. They have shown their work in solo and two-person shows at spaces including Tusk, Slow Dance, and the Fondation des États Unis. They have a BFA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and an MFA from the Tyler School of Art and Architecture. 

Images: (above) Headshot of Abbey Muza. Photo courtesy of the artist. (below) Undressed Mirror, 2024, silk, wool, cotton, dye, sewing thread, linen, colored pencil, 15 x 25 inches. Photo by Gregory Copitet.

This article was written by Shanley Poole and was originally published in 2025 Winter Catalog. Banner image features a snowy glimpse of Rupprecht Way. Photo by Hannah Bug, Digital Communications Assistant.

A Cozy Look Back

Ox-News: Winter Reading

Dear Readers,

This past year filled our campus with so much life. From a cozy winter session that left our campus feeling like a winter wonderland, to a bustling summer that packed our studios and cabins with artists from all over the world. Just two weeks ago, we welcomed our first 2025 cohort of faculty, visiting artists, and students. Campus is alive once again, and we’re so excited to see what the coming seasons hold. As we say farewell to the old and welcome the new, we wanted to take a moment to reminisce on some of our favorite stories from the past year. Thanks for indulging our memories. We look forward to making new ones with you in the coming seasons!

With care,

Shanley Poole, Engagement Liaison & Storyteller

Fashion as Intuition

Gurtie Hansell’s love for fashion and connection to altered clothing stems far into their past. At a young age their grandmother taught them to sew and from there it seemed, in Hansell’s words, “I always made clothes or augmented clothes to fit my weirdo personality.” However, Hansell started to make a more communal and consistent practice of it in 2015. For the retirement party of Chicago’s Chances Dances, Hansell was approached about facilitating a fashion show. The project materialized into something substantial. Hansell reminisced on the crowd’s positive reactions. “And I had a lot of fun and the models really liked it,” they added. That Hansell would receive such positive reviews from all around didn’t surprise me. It’s in their nature to honor and connect with others, something I’ve experienced first hand in all my encounters with them. 

Visionary Awardee: John Rossi

“Looking back, my first memory of John Rossi is a fitting one. I initially met him during April of 2021 when I came to campus for a final round interview for what would become my first job at Ox-Bow. My encounter was brief. He stood atop a ladder in the old inn fixing an antique chandelier in place. He gave me a friendly hello, I returned it, and that was that. My first Rossi sighting.” – Shanley Poole

Storyteller to Storyteller

Ania Freer, former Artist-in-Residence, opens up about her storytelling practice with Shanley Poole in this intimate and free-flowing interview.

Alumni Philipp Groth Says By-Bye Pilsen

When Philipp Groth found out Cermak Center was closing, he knew leaving was no simple matter of packing up his studio. He had to say goodbye to the building and to Pilsen while he was at it. Pilsen, the neighborhood that Cermak Center called home, has been an artistic hub for creatives, but in its most recent years, the area has become exorbitantly expensive. When the building was slated for demolition, Philipp knew this meant he’d have to find an entirely new part of Chicago to house his practice. But first, he had to bid the neighborhood farewell.

2024 Artist Profiles

Image List:

A view of the lagoon at dusk. Photo by Dominique Muñoz (SF24).

Gurtie Hansell sits on a navy futon in front of a plant. Image courtesy of the artist.

John Rossi tinkers outside his studio. Photo by Dominique Muñoz (SF24).

Ania Freer stands behind a camera in front of pink-blooming shrubs. Image courtesy of the artist.

Philipp Groth sits on the floor of a studio. Image courtesy of the artist.

Headshot of Sarah Ann Banks. Image courtesy of the artist.

Christen Baker blowing glass in the Helen Keeler Burke Glass Studio.

Constantine and Hausther serve oysters out of a truck bed. Image courtesy of Constantine.

Crissman and Torrence sit together in their studio while pets perch on their lap. Image courtesy of the artists.

Michael Cuadrado painting in the studio. Photo by Dominique Muñoz (SF24).

Headshot of Jack Holly. Image courtesy of the artist.

Paul Peng sits in the studio and gestures at a painting. Photo by Natia Ser (SF23).

Headshot of Yashu Reddy. Image courtesy of the artist.

Steven Smith works on a leather coaster in his studio. Image courtesy of the artist.

Headshot of Mark Thomas Gibson. Image courtesy of the artist.

Reference Key:

SF - Summer Fellow

Winter Artists Market Gift Guide

From the lifelong learner to the “let’s stay in” type, our gift guide has options for all of your loved ones.

Let’s face it. You love your people, just like we love the eternal spring of toast to be found at the Ox-Bow toast bar. But sometimes it can be hard to show that love. Lucky for you, we’ve put together a road map that we think can help. In addition to being the local touchpoint for your favorite arts nonprofit, Ox-Bow House is here to assist in all your gift-giving needs! Whether it be holiday, birthday, or a little “just because,” we’ve got you covered. Read on to find the perfect thing for the ___ in your life.

For The…

Rock Hound 

Art to remind them of their favorite rocks, sturdy bags to carry their rocks, rocks to draw their favorite rocks while ‘in the field’. They love rocks and so do we!

Rock Cups by Joan Wyand

• Shoreline Blues by Margo Burian; oil and cold wax on jumbo playing card, 4 ½ x 7 inches

• Erosional Remains by Honore Lee; detailed nature based imagery ink, Prismacolor pencil, wax on cradled board, 5 x 5 inches

• Rock Cups by Joan Wyand; ceramic, rocks

• Crayon Rocks

• Waxed Canvas Zip Bag by Steven Smith

• Lagoon Rock Keychains by Devin Balara; rocks, resin

Lifelong Learner

The hobby-ist! The hands-on-er! For the person who is always trying something new. 

Ox-Bow Paint By Numbers Apron

• Rebecca Ringquist Embroidery Heart Sampler

• Gamblin Artists Introductory Oils set

• Ox-Bow Paint by Numbers Apron

• Woodfired Bread Bakers by Maryanne Von Ins; woodfired ceramic

• Cooking/Camping Broom Set by Cate O’Connell Richards; includes pot scrubber, cake tester, crumb sweeper, and mushroom brush

Lover of Details

Look no further when shopping for that detail-oriented friend. We have plenty of art to tickle the fancy of their keen eyes.

Cocktail Glass by Rachel Brace

• Tiny Clay Covered Books by Lisa Louise Adams; clay, paper, linen, beads, 1 x 1 ½ inches

• Trading Cards by Lisa Walcott & Meredith Ridl; ink, acrylic, graphite and pigment on paper, 5 x 7 inches

• Aerial Abstract by Christa Barnell; oil and collage, 8  x 10 inches

• Burnt by Sue Cortese; mixed media Collage on Wood, 8 x 8 inches

• Cocktail Glasses by Rachel Brace; glass

• Lake Michigan Bluff Erosion by Martha Rosenfeld; Wool, yarn, and t-shirts on linen foundation,  25 x 19 inches 

Mischief Maker

Playful gifts to match their *colorful* personality!

Shame Monument by Henry J Crissman

• Inner Wonder: a 52 card deck for sacred play by Lisa Louise Adams

• Book Earrings by Nancy Morains; marbled paper, hand sewn (perfect for writing secrets messages in)

• Cauldron Earrings by Rachel Brace; glass

• Shame Monument by Henry J Crissman; woodfired ceramic

• Candle Folk by Audrey Avril; Ink and watercolor on paper, 2 x 3 inches framed with 3 inch chain

• Harsh Reality Cup by Henry J Crissman; ceramic

• Summer of Love Poster by Dasha Klein & Jake Brown; screenprint

Chic Minimalist

Sleek, eyecatching, intentionally made. Earn cool points with the coolest person you know by gifting any of these.

Appear by Mary Brodbeck

• Engraved Glass Earrings by Priscilla Kar Yee Lo; glass

• Appear by Mary Brodbeck; Woodblock Print, 25 x 21 inches framed

• Ox-Bow Benefit Vases by Zena Segre; ceramic

• Minimal Flat Leather Wallet by Steven Smith

• 2-Handle Mug by Zena Segre; Porcelain, 3 ½ x 4.75 inches

“Let’s Stay in” Type

Find something from our gallery that pairs best with a cozy blanket and no plans.

Hand Sewn Leather Journal with Specialty Trim by Steven Smith

• Zakti Tallmadge Woods Chai, organic black tea

• Medium Felts by Christina Sweeney; merino wool, dye

• Hand Sewn Leather Journal with Specialty Trim by Steven Smith

• Woodfired Soup Bowl by Virginia Rose Torrence; woodfired ceramic

• A Great Gay Book: Stories of Growth, Belonging & Other Queer Possibilities edited by Ryan Fitzgibbon

• Earth Contours by Betsy York; water mixable oil on canvas, 13 ½  x 11 ½ inches

• Today Is Art Day 1000pc Puzzles

• Untitled I by Maria Scott; Pit-fired stoneware vessel, 8 x 9 x 9 inches

This article was written by Hannah Bugg, Digital Communications Assistant, and was based on Ox-Bow House inventory as of November 2024.

A Collector at Heart

Gary Van Dis shares about the emotional philosophy behind a decades long pursuit of collecting art.

Collecting is an exercise in emotional connectivity, according to Gary Van Dis. Former Vice President and Corporate Creative Director of Condé Nast, design consultant for Herman Miller, and graduate of the Illinois Institute of Technology’s Institute of Design (the New Bauhaus) with studies in design and behavioral science, Van Dis offers a unique eye to the realm of collecting. “I don’t identify myself with one silo,” he said. Instead he prefers to collect works based on the emotional resonance of each piece.

He credited that his first endeavors as a collector were conducted during childhood on the shores and in the forests of Saugatuck, where he found stones, seed pods, seaglass, and even a turtle’s shell. Though his collection has changed and grown a good deal since then, Van Dis still pays annual visits to the place that sparked his curiosity. His collection evolved as many artists’ collections launch: with trades. As a New Bauhaus student, he exchanged work with fellow students and professors. At the time, he was producing photographs and graphic studies. These exchanges ultimately inspired his current philosophy for acquiring. “Trading is a two way street” Van Dis recognized, “one has to put a value of what that emotional connectivity to each other [is worth].” Still to this day, Van Dis weighs this connection to the artists from which he considers purchasing art.

Manager of Ox-Bow House, Maggie Banstra, converses with a visitor in the gallery. Photo by Natia Ser (Summer Fellow 2023).

Van Dis speaks of collecting as a game for some, but he himself doesn’t find much interest in the way most play the sport. While some derive satisfaction from securing a prestigious bid at Sotheby's or scoring a Basquiat, Van Dis prefers to let his heart lead him to his next purchase. This methodology necessitates keeping a healthy heart, not via a bowl of Cheerios, but through attention to a wisened sense of optimism and an understanding of kinship and kindness to all. “Understanding human behavior has allowed me to be a better person,” he said of his academic studies, “and within that even make good and bad choices about what I’ve collected.”

Indicative of Van Dis’s background in behavioral studies, he mulled over concepts such as self-assurance, perception, and intuition. He brought us to these subjects as he talked about methods of interpretation, parting ways with work, and social media’s influence on the arts industry. While touring galleries, Van Dis said he occasionally encounters a piece that feels significant, but his own barriers prevent him from digesting it. Sometimes he’ll return to the piece and the work will strike him with new clarity. But he also appreciates the perspectives that arrive when viewing in the company of others. Of a particular group of friends, Van Dis said, “We all have sort of different eyes about how we see and interpret… and we’re able to share that with each other.” In this space they don’t prize singular truths and instead delight in a multitude of discoveries. 

Such conversations bring fresh perspectives that one couldn’t conjure in solitude. This concept of isolation and its limits Van Dis compared to trends he sees in social media. Just as he resists a siloed collection of art, he also fears the silos emerging in online communities, even in arts sectors. Van Dis believes that powerful art runs contrary to factions; art has the capability to connect across human experiences. Perhaps this is why Van Dis holds works loosely. When he intuits that his relationship with a piece has reached closure, he knows to rehome it, as he recently did with two glass candelabras made by Borek Sipek.

Van Dis credits his inclination towards shared exchange and generosity to lessons learned early in childhood. His parents were third generation residents of Saugatuck and raised their son in the lakeside town that bustled with the curiosity and creativity of visiting artists during the summer and grew quiet during all other seasons. Amidst the school year, Van Dis threw himself into sports, theater, and art classes. In summer, he lived for swimming lessons and back porch stories told by his Aunt Elita (Bird) Graves. From a young age he was taught by his family to remain curious, which he described as “a never ending gift.” 

While he still finds himself collecting rocks on the beach as he did in his earliest years, he also enjoys exploring the local galleries when he visits West Michigan, including our very own Ox-Bow House. Some of his latest Ox-Bow acquisitions include two ceramic candelabras by Christina Sweeney and works on paper by Katherine Sullivan. He applauded the artistic excellence of ceramicist Maria Scott, whose work he also acquired at Ox-Bow House and similarly described the work of Dove Hornbuckle as “the most exhilarating ceramics.” In particular, he finds himself enchanted with pieces made by artists living, working, and making their art on Ox-Bow’s campus. While Van Dis emphasized there was no question of the caliber of the work present in the space, that isn’t the only thing that draws him back to Ox-Bow House. “It’s the people,” Van Dis said, paying special note to both Executive Director, Shannon Stratton whose vision made Ox-Bow House a reality and Retail Manager, Maggie Bandstra who works directly with the artists.

Goblin, Dove Hornbuckle, 2018, stoneware, glaze, 23 x 21 x 24 inches. Image courtesy of the artist.

The works that have made their way into Van Dis’s home are nestled in every inch of the place: shelves, walls, and bookcases. When he feels satiated by a piece, he stores it away and swaps it out with another. Harkening back to his philosophy of generosity, he said he often passes on work to others based on the good faith that “they [are] going to get something out of it.” Similarly, before parting ways on the phone during the interview Van Dis gifted me with multiple reading recommendations. “I think you’d get a lot out of them,” he promised me. “When things get really rough for me, I think about the generosity of that community of 900 people when I was a kid…” He claims that the kindness and generosity has followed him through and impacted him to this day and I would wager that the two hours we spent in conversation, musing on the talent of other artists and the magic of a small town is just one modest proof of that generosity made manifest.

This article was written by Shanley Poole and was originally published in Experience Ox-Bow 2024 based on interviews conducted with Van Dis in December 2023. Banner Image from Ox-Bow’s 2024 Glass Exhibition. Photo by Dominique Muñoz (Summer Fellow, 2024).

House Renovations

An Interview with Charlie Vinz, Architect-in-Residence

As an Artist-in-Residence in 2016, Charlie focused on fiber arts. At the time he was already a well established architect, and joked he was “cosplaying as a fiber artist.” During his time on campus he challenged himself to use materials within a specific radius. This same philosophy Vinz has also applied in his architectural practices. He seeks out localized resources whenever possible to minimize the carbon footprint of his projects. The history of Ox-Bow House excited him in this regard. With Saugatuck’s roots as a logging town, it’s likely the wooden structural support of the building (originally constructed in 1870) came from the surrounding land. In the future, Vinz hopes to create a resources map that hypothesizes where materials were originally sourced from. These conjectures are one of Vinz’s favorite aspects of adaptive design projects. Most recently, by finding the geometric center of the building, Vinz was able to unveil center court of the old athletic club.

An individual bikes towards Ox-Bow House on a bright summer day. Photo by Ian Solomon (Summer Fellow, 2023).

When asked how Ox-Bow House fared in comparison to other projects, Charlie laughed. The words “one of a kind” tumbled out of his mouth soon after. It’s not too often that an architect receives three years to conceptualize a project, he acknowledged. “Architects are deliberate and thoughtful in any kind of process,” he said, and the nature of the three-year residence has allowed him to relish in that process. In his approach, his top priority is public interfacing.

In early conceptualization, Vinz proposed transforming the building’s accessible entrance into the main welcome way. He didn’t want anyone to feel like they had to use the backdoor. This ended up dictating much of the rest of the layout. “Things fell into place from there,” he said. 

A person ascends the stairs of Ox-Bow House. Photo by Hai-Wen Lin (Summer Fellow, 2022).

A year into his residency, Vinz still has plenty of hopes for what he’ll accomplish and ample time to realize those dreams. He invites all those curious about the project to visit Ox-Bow House. His studio is available for viewing and his collection of books serves as a “public bibliography” for his architectural approach. And if you see Vinz in the House, he assures that he always welcomes conversations with visitors, especially if you have a story or two to tell about the building’s history.

Headshot of Charlie Vinz. Image courtesy of the artist.

Charlie Vinz is an architect, designer, and artist who searches for simple solutions to complicated problems. In his approach, cultural production is an extension of the built environment, which is part of an open-ended, collaborative process. Vinz studied architecture at the Illinois Institute of Technology in Chicago and Bauhaus Universitat in Weimar, Germany, graduating with a BArch in 2004. He has worked at architecture firms in Chicago, with artist Theaster Gates and Rebuild Foundation, and was the Creative Director of the Rebuilding Exchange before starting his own practice, Adaptive Operations, which primarily adapts buildings and spaces for new and different uses and works with artists and cultural organizations. Vinz is currently an Architect-in-Residence at Ox-Bow.

This article was written by Shanley Poole, Engagement Liaison & Storyteller. The article was originally published in our 2023 Experience Ox-Bow Catalog.

Banner Image: a visitor explores prints in the main exhibition space. Photo by Dominique Muñoz (Summer Fellow, 2024).

Artist Profile: Yashu Reddy

From Michigan to Murano to Maui, glass artist Yashu Reddy continues to invest in the craft (and indulge in his love for travel).

What started as a college elective for Yashu Reddy quickly grew into a career and lifestyle as a glass artist. With over a decade in the craft, he has studied under and worked alongside artists of international renown, and developed a highly skilled reputation for himself as well. And still, Reddy is hungry to learn more and dive deeper into glasswork.

As Reddy catches me up to speed on his latest endeavors, he sips a beer and drags on a cigarette, a post-work ritual I’m familiar with from our shared summers at Ox-Bow. It’s 4:00 p.m. where he’s calling me from. Two weeks ago he was at a studio in Maui, but now he’s in Murano, Italy. To understand how he got here, we have to journey back to the start of Reddy’s studio experience. Back to that first class at community college.

At age twenty, Yashu Reddy enrolled in an introductory glass class in central Pennsylvania. He was goaded into taking it by a friend who recommended it as an elective. “Realistically, I owe it to him for getting me into glass,” Reddy credits. Over the years, Reddy would experience countless other occurrences and fateful directions from others in the community that would drive him deeper into his career. 

Vessels by Yashu Reddy.

The same friend who introduced him to glass found the Banana Factory Arts Center, which housed a glass studio in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. After undergoing what Reddy referred to as “tryouts” in the studio, Reddy received an invitation to intern there for the summer. The situation wasn’t what you’d call glorious. In return for the opportunity to work in the studio, Reddy was allowed to crash on the couch of the studio manager. During those long days at the Banana Factory, the glassblowers would watch videos on VHS of a Muranese glass master performing demos. A decade later, Reddy now works in that maestro’s studio. “If you would have told me ten years ago, I would have never thought in a million years that I would be the guy to work with the [maestro] in the video,” Reddy reflected.

It was in 2019 that Reddy and the maestro, Davide Fuin, first crossed paths. Though I suppose that makes it sound a bit too serendipitous. In reality, Reddy set out with intention to take the maestro’s workshop. After seeing openings for the workshop, which would take place in the studio in Murano, Reddy thought, “Wow, what a freaking cool opportunity it would be to go to Italy, but also to take a workshop from this guy who was one of the best in the world.” Reddy described the week-long experience as one of the most challenging and expansive times for his practice. “It was incredibly humbling. I remember that, but then I also remember how much content I felt like I absorbed within five days.” The firehose nature of the workshop was so impactful that when the maestro offered a course a couple years later in California, Reddy didn’t hesitate to join.

Yashu Reddy leading a glass blowing demo. Photo by Natia Ser (SF23).

Shortly before he attended that second workshop, the maestro extended an invitation for Reddy to join his team in Murano. After wrapping up a second season at Ox-Bow, that’s exactly where Reddy went. The experience still feels surreal to the artist. Not only does he work alongside a glassblower that he spent years admiring, he’s also surrounded by countless other talented glass artists in what has historically and still contemporarily been known as a haven of glassmaking. “You go out to casually get a drink at the bar, and you don't even know it, but you're surrounded by people who not only do the same thing as you, but have been doing it for probably longer than you've been alive,” Reddy said. While there’s an inherent respect for the glassmakers and the traditions they’ve upheld, you won’t hear people reveling about it at the bars. “Because everybody does that for work here as a career, no one really talks about it. You'll never hear people casually talking about work outside in town,” Reddy explained. 

The maestro’s team is intimate: just Reddy and a young, local glassblower named Carlo. Reddy swears that Carlo will be the next great Muranese glass artist, one who could carry on the maestro’s legacy. The two young artists often end the work day together, spending extra time practicing in the studio after the maestro calls it a day. Then they head to a local restaurant for dinner and a drink, where Reddy manages to choke back the questions his inner “glass nerd self” wishes he could ask the experts. 

Vessels by Yashu Reddy. Photo by Clare Britt.

While Murano is paradise, it’s not the only one Reddy knows. Most recently, he spends the majority of his year at a studio in Maui, Hawaii. For the immediate future, Reddy plans to continue spending time in both the maestro’s studio and in Maui at Makai Glass. Amidst all the travel, Reddy admits, “A place to call home would be really nice.” And as the months pass, he suspects Maui could become that. “I feel like this spot that I've found in Maui feels very much like a home base. I really like the idea of going back to there,” Reddy said. 

Beyond the studio in Maui, he’s found things to wax nostalgic about while he’s away from Hawaii. He misses his outrigger canoe team, the sound of roosters, and the lush environment. But the travel bug keeps him going: “I still love traveling and meeting people, and I'm not really ready to stop, you know. I'm not really ready to settle down,” he shared. Over ten years in, Yashu Reddy is still chasing fervently after glass. He shows no signs of slowing down in the hot shop, saying yes to new adventures, or finding yet another studio located on an idyllic island. 

Yashu Reddy is an Indian-American glass artist from Central Pennsylvania. His work focuses on the traditional aspects of glass craft and design from a functional viewpoint. Refining form and technique through the study of tableware, lighting fixtures, and abstract sculpture. He draws inspiration from the aesthetics of historical glass objects, with the intention of rendering his works with more relevant and personal styles.

His education began at Harrisburg Area Community College where he was introduced to the medium and from there continued to travel the world to study with prestigious glass artists such as Raven Skyriver, Kelly O’Dell, Darin Denison, and Davide Fuin. He has a diverse working experience ranging from design studios such as Niche Modern and AO Glassworks to educational organizations such as the prestigious Corning Museum of Glass, where he has been on the team of many reputable artists such as Swedish maker, Fredrik Nielsen and Head of Glass at SIU, Jiyong Lee. He was previously working at the Ox-Bow School of Art and Artist’s Residency as Glass Studio Manager. 

Since his time away from Ox-Bow he is continuing his education, working as an apprentice glassmaker in Venice, Italy for one of the last few living Masters in Murano, Italy, a small island located in the Venetian lagoon that is well renowned for its centuries long artistic glass making history. 

This article was written by Shanley Poole, Engagement Liaison & Storyteller and was based on an interview conducted in September of 2024. Header photo by Clare Britt.

Alumni Philipp Groth says “by bye Pilsen”

Organized and curated by Philipp Groth (SF23) and Jonas Müller-Ahlheim, by bye Pilsen zooms in on artists’ vanishing spaces and gives Pilsen’s Cermak Center an epic sendoff.

When Philipp Groth found out Cermak Center was closing, he knew leaving was no simple matter of packing up his studio. He had to say goodbye to the building and to Pilsen while he was at it. Pilsen, the neighborhood that Cermak Center called home, has been an artistic hub for creatives, but in its most recent years, the area has become exorbitantly expensive. When the building was slated for demolition, Philipp knew this meant he’d have to find an entirely new part of Chicago to house his practice. But first, he had to bid the neighborhood farewell.

The idea for an exhibition came to fruition when artist Jonas Müller-Ahlheim came to visit Groth’s studio. “He shared this tragic story with me that they're gonna basically kick all the artists out, some of whom have been in the building for 20 years, [to] repurpose the building,” said Müller-Ahlheim. The building held a storied history as a Ford plant that had since lived several lives as studio spaces for artists. Groth and Müller-Ahlheim decided to use the gap of time after artists had moved out of the space and before the building was demolished. The timeline left them with less than three weeks to assemble a group of artists and install the work. With Groth and Müller-Ahlheim’s combined dedication and persuasion, it all came together. 

Activating the space for them involved more than a traditional exhibition, they wanted the architecture to shine, to operate not just as a venue, but as an active, spotlighting part of the experience. This philosophy of activating existing structures was one that took root during Groth’s summer fellowship at Ox-Bow. In his own works at both Ox-Bow and in by bye Pilsen, Groth explained that he was “aiming to distill observable and imperceptible properties of materials and objects by installing works directly on the floor, in passageways, etc., so they automatically inherit architectural details such as the conditions of light or a site’s morphologies.” And while this same spirit of acknowledging the space made its way through all the artists’ works, each had their own philosophies and methods for how they achieved this.

“We saw ourselves more as facilitators than as curators,” Groth explained. Müller-Ahlheim elaborated that this allowed artists the permission to “[bring] in their own ideas,” that were both developed in and defined by the space. Ruby Que, for instance, brought in the site-specific installation “Closer,” which was developed at a residency and then adapted to the studio location. It featured a projection onto a Ford Escape mirror, paying homage to the building’s history as a former Ford plant. The video playing on a loop showed a drive around the neighborhood of Pilsen. The grainy nature of the projection gave it an air of nostalgia, fitting for a farewell. Müller-Ahlheim put the piece’s poeticism into words: “It was beautiful because the projection on the one hand, projects forward, but also the mirror projects backwards,” creating an embodiment of the studio space’s past and future lives.

The exhibition also included two works by Matthew Metzger, one of which left with quite the story attached. “Two works that influence the atmosphere of by bye Pilsen” included both a sound installation and a painting. The sound installation—a spun record’s eternal click, click, click—contributed its own wistful energy. But it was the painting that earned the story. After pulling a long night shift in the space, Groth and Müller-Ahlheim left the Cermak Center at 4:00 a.m. When Groth returned around 10:00 a.m., he was relieved to find everything from the projectors to the speakers still in place. With no budget and having run out of bike locks to secure the last room, the artists had put their faith in the universe, hoping that for six hours, the Metzger work would remain untouched. And everything did. Except, as Groth soon discovered that morning, Metzger’s painting, from which a clean cut of nearly a third of the canvas had been taken. Ironically, the piece was modeled after Manet’s “Episode from a Bullfight,” which was later split into two separate works: “The Dead Man” and “The Bullfight.” The piece had been with Metzger for over a decade and had even shown in major exhibitions. While rumors circulated that Metzger himself had torn the piece to add to the intrigue, Groth clarified that Metzger and his partner Miao Wang “were shocked standing in front of it.”

While deinstalling, Metzger consoled Groth and Müller-Ahlheim, saying that he knew the risk and felt the show was well worth it. And if the turnout says anything, it seems it was. Much like the lore surrounding Metzger’s piece, the exhibition developed a life and reputation of its own. When doors opened to the exhibition, over 300 people visited on its opening day. With folks congesting in hallways and conversing next to installations, the day itself became a manifestation of past, present, and future. Artists reunited and new friendships formed, all the while, a tangible grief for the loss of Cermak Center floated through the space. Yet, by bye Pilsen’s facilitators are hopeful that the exhibition becomes its own new beginning. In the future, Groth and Müller-Ahlheim intend to facilitate future happenings, ones that orchestrate new connections between creatives and generate an enthusiasm for what Chicago has to offer. 

Exhibition Statement:

“by bye Pilsen” marks the farewell of Chicago’s Cermak Center, a former Ford plant pre-dating the modern assembly-line of Detroit and Chicago area factories. Having served as an artist space for the last 20 years, the warehouse in the Pilsen neighborhood is now slated for remodeling, allowing for a careful repurposing of its broached industrial floors.

A tribute to the site and the city at large, the group show highlights the work of a young generation of artists addressing the space between industry and poetics, and between the creation of progress and the creation of meaning. By bye Pilsen.

The exhibition included works by: Noelle Affrich, Tauba Auerbach, Kaya & Blank, Camille Casemier, Matthew Girson, Philipp Groth, Gordon Hall, Gary Lapointe, Makayla Lindsay, Matthew Metzger, Jonas Müller Ahlheim, Josue Pillot, Richard Rezac, Cameron Spratley, Aleksandra Walaszek, Ruby Que, and Xu Yue.  

Philipp Groth is a German artist whose practice occupies intermediary positions between ready-made, autonomous, and site-sensitive demonstrations across various media including installation, sculpture, video, painting and drawing, and writing. He graduated from The University of the Arts London in 2021 and The School of the Art Institute of Chicago in 2023. From 2018 to 2020, he taught at the University of Applied Sciences SRH in Berlin. Groth’s work and research have been supported by grants and fellowships from the A4 Museum in Chengdu, The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and Ox-Bow School of Art, where was named a LeRoy Neiman Fellow in 2023.

jonas müller-ahlheim (1993) is a German artist, curator, and educator, who works across multiple media including sculpture, painting, installation, performative acts, and video. The focus of his work lies on inconspicuous places in which he uses humor as a tool in order to understand the grammar of a situation. Material and thoughts are often gathered within his lived environment including his day job at a resale shop, photographer, and during his daily detours through the alleyways of Chicago. He studied Media Art at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts, Copenhagen and graduated in 2021 from The Art Academy Karlsruhe as a Meisterschüler with Professor Leni Hoffmann. From 2021 to 2023 he was awarded the DAAD - fellowship to continue his research at the Painting Department of the School of The Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC), from which he graduated with an MFA. In 2023 he was awarded a teaching fellowship at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago where he is currently a Lecturer. 

This article was written by Shanley Poole, Engagement Liaison & Storyteller and was based on interviews conducted in September 2024.

Image List:

Josue Pillot, Untitled, Inkjet print, Documentation of Damas a Caballo series, 2010-2012

Ruby Que, Closer, Ford Escape side mirror, digital projection, 2024

Philipp Groth, Umbau (Detail), steel, screws, wood, and paint, 2024

Matthew Metzger, Two works that influence the atmosphere of by bye Pilsen, 2024

(left) Noelle Africh, Loomer, distemper on linen over panel, 20 x 16 inches, 2023

(center) Gordon Hall, Closed Box with Painted Top, cast concrete, poplar, latex paint, 12 x 18 x 11 inches, 2019

(right) Gary Lapointe, flexible measure, 3 ruler stack, altered rulers and hardware, 3 feet x 1 inch x 1 inch, 2019

Headshot of Philipp Groth.

All images courtesy of Philipp Groth.

Ox-News: Fall Reading

Intergenerational Art Making, Tea as Ritual, and Fellows Post Ox-Bow

Dear Readers,

Fall is the traditional time to wax nostalgic, the perfect time to tell stories of summers and seasons past. Whether I’m talking to someone who spent time at Ox-Bow a month ago or decades prior, I adore the sentimentality that overarches those conversations. In our Fall Reading Publication, we’ve curated stories that host this romantic sensibility. From EXYL’s love-lettered practice to warm cups of tea to the early aughts at Family Camp, may these pieces remind you of the magic and stir up your own memories of days gone by at Ox-Bow.

With sincerity and care,

Shanley Poole

Madeleine Aguilar’s Ox-Bow EP

From library carts to mobile music makers, Aguilar’s work invites folks to gather around and enter in. The same can be said for her Ox-Bow EP. Composed of four songs, each one strikes as both personal and collective, especially for listeners that have stepped foot on Ox-Bow’s campus. Her lyrics paint pictures of sunrises on the lagoon and the sand and grit that fixes itself to all who visit Ox-Bow. 

Summer Fellow: EXYL

“I would define my work as a stubborn love letter,” EXYL said. When asked for clarification they added, “I hate love stories.” This love letter finds its stubbornness in the resistance between EXYL’s tendency to keep their feet on the ground, while also not being able to resist the palpable, anti-gravity force of love that snakes its way into their work. Their practice is rooted in the exploration of communication, people, compromise, and resolution. And while they resist the word narrative being assigned to their work, I can’t help but see an abstract one forming in these concepts, one that speaks to some archetypal experience that can perhaps best be described as simply human.

Then & Now: Intergenerational Art-Making Through the Years

Ox-Bow has played host to a variety of imaginations, the most receptive of them? Kids. Over the years, the children of professors, staff, guests, and neighbors of Ox-Bow have delighted in the wonders of the meadow, lagoon, studios, and trails. More than anyone else, these kids understand the magic of Ox.

Partner Profile: zakti tea

In 2004 Janeil Engelstad and Pamela Miller took a trip to Kuala Lampur, Malaysia. Little did they know how much the trip would transform their future. By the close of their experience, they were dreaming of an entirely new business venture that intersected with the couple’s newfound passion: tea. This passion would eventually grow into the formation of zakti, a speciality, loose-leaf tea company. Engelstad had incorporated tea into her life decades prior, though her partner Miller never held much interest. While in Kuala Lampur, Miller ordered a cup of Shu Puer tea that changed everything.

Recent News:

• Artist Profile: Gabrielle Constantine

• Artist Profile: Michael Cuadrado

• Ox-Bow House Artist Profile: Steven Smith

• Storyteller to Storyteller

Image List:

Lagoon at sunset. Photo by Dominique Muñoz (SF23)

Madeleine Aguilar on stage while playing the guitar. Image courtesy of the artist.

Madeleine Aguilar, mobile music maker II, Found instruments, wood, rope, clamps, and chair legs. Image courtesy of the artist.

A headshot of EXYL. Image courtesy of the artist.

(left) Mask making at Family Camp. Image courtesy of Steve Meier.  (right) Two artists, an adult and child, work with watercolors. Image courtesy of Kim Meyers Baas. 

A cup of matcha sits on a saucer next to a sprig of jade. Image courtesy of zakti tea.

Artist Profile: Gabrielle Constantine

On taking risks and expanding a community-based practice by entering into the practices of others.

Gabrielle Constantine first joined Ox-Bow as a fellow during the summer of 2023 where she was matched with the culinary department. There she spent twenty hours a week in the kitchen alongside the rest of the culinary team. The pairing dovetailed neatly with her practice, which in the past had included supper clubs and other hospitality-based initiatives. These drew experience from Constantine’s years-long work in the restaurant industry. 

While at Ox-Bow, Constantine began to dream of ways she could continue to mix her culinary background into her practice. She schemed about a studio speakeasy and a collaborative mini-fridge gallery. She took special inspiration from her time in John Preus’s course “The World is One. The Human is Two: Deconstructing and Reconstructing Objects” for which she worked as a teaching assistant. During the course, Constantine made new conceptual breakthroughs in her work. “I don't know if that could have been worked out anywhere else besides Ox-Bow. I think it was the dynamic of me working through my tendencies of being a host and being a community person, but also the labor that goes with that, and [considering] how do we transfer those things into objects.” These curiosities ultimately manifested in an upholstered sculpture that explored the purpose of objects and their autonomy. As summer came to a close, Constantine had produced a number of physical sculptures, while many of her community-based projects were still taking up residence in her imagination.

If the summer of 2023 was Constantine’s incubator for socially engaged work, summer 2024 was the catalyst. While at a residency in Skowhegan, Constantine took action on several culinary projects rooted in hospitality. Fellow artist-in-residence Dylan Hausthor gave Constantine the push she needed, encouraging her to lean into spontaneity. As a team, the two artists assembled an impromptu bar in the bed of Hausthor’s decades-old Toyota truck. Constantine reflected, “It was nice to do the truck thing with Dylan, because they work very different than I do. They had a freedom in a space that I have a tendency to overthink because of my restaurant background. Working with Dylan felt really easy.” Via the truck bar, Constantine served up grilled cheese and Hausthor dolled out martinis. Throughout her nine weeks on campus, Constantine facilitated several other initiatives. A pop-up bar in her studio featured home brewed amaro and snacks. On a trip to the beach, Constantine and Hausther shucked oysters for the crowd. In tandem with a screening of Moonstruck, she produced a thematic pairing of homemade bread and olive oil.

Constantine also spent her nine weeks at Skowhegan indulging in her curiosity for others’ practices. “At a certain point, I stopped worrying about making enough… I just wanted to be around the people there.” This emphasis on immersion allowed Constantine to participate in a performance piece, join a filmmaker’s project, participate in photo shoots, and more. She described this decision as a conscious effort to “put herself in other people’s practices.” 

After such a robust and active summer, Constantine has much to process. “I really have to sit with all these things and all these people that I’ve met and learned from. How do I take all of these things and put it into a place that I root in?” Constantine said. She hopes that her fall residency at Bemis will be a place to begin answering these questions. In a similar spirit, she intends to spend her residency making quilts, a fittingly reflective practice. “It feels like it’ll heal me a bit,” Constantine confessed, admitting that the traveling artist lifestyle has left a bit of wear. “It’s so fun, but it’s also really hard, this life. We have a crazy life,” Constantine said. In both her quilts and Constantine’s more ephemeral experiences, a similar spirit is conjured. At the heart of her practice is a commitment to hospitality, conversation, gathering, belonging and care.

Giving fake Tiffany, bought from the trunk of a Cadillac, to Rachel Cohen for her Bat Mitzvah. Microwaving lavash and string cheese for an after-school snack. Tending to a mustache and beard since 5th grade. Going to the AC Tropicana for weekend “getaways”. Watching Cher in Moonstruck every night before bed. Drinking milk from a martini glass. This is Constantine’s DNA. Gabrielle Constantine (1994) was born and raised in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, where she received her double BFA in Sculpture and Fibers and Material studies at the Tyler School of Art (2017) and holds an MFA at The University of Texas of Austin (2023). Growing up in an Armenian Community and the restaurant industry has inexplicably informed her material, linguistic, and performative decisions surrounding her sculptures, installations, and gatherings. Alongside her more sculptural practice, Constantine has shared in cooking dinners and hosting gatherings with communities all over the country and internationally. She is consistently innovating new ways of gathering community through art and food.

This article was written by Shanley Poole, Engagement Liaison & Storyteller and was based on interviews conducted in June 2023 and August 2024.

Image List:

“Whether Sauce or Blood,” a sculpture created by Constantine at Ox-Bow.

Hausthor’s truck transformed into a bar.

Constantine and friends serving oysters.

Headshot of Constantine.

All images courtesy of the artist.

Storyteller to Storyteller

Ania Freer, former Artist-in-Residence, opens up about her storytelling practice with Ox-Bow’s own Storyteller, Shanley Poole.

SP: I’m really excited to talk to you about storytelling in particular. As someone who really cares about that, it’s cool to be able to interview someone who shares that same mentality. I wanted to start by going way back and asking what role stories played in your childhood.

AF: Mmmm… My mum has a good friend, Chardi, who’s a storyteller. I was actually just reminded of her the other day because I was talking to mum about this friend because she’s not in great health at the moment. I just remember vividly spending time with her. She’s a professional storyteller and artist. She makes these mandalas and runs these workshops that help people tap into their own personal stories. 

I’m a visual person and I see everything as pictures in my mind. I wasn’t interested in reading as a child. It was just a solitary experience. For me, the biggest joy was listening to stories, hearing stories, and having them be read to me. There was a personal connection in hearing someone else’s voice. The way that they speak informed the pictures that were built in my mind. It wasn’t as exciting to hear my own voice in my head. I’m actually just making that connection now as I’m saying that to you. I hadn’t really related the fact that I hated reading as a kid, but I loved hearing stories. 

I noticed more and more how if I needed to talk about something, or if I’m having a conversation with someone, I see the narrative in pictures. It’s kind of how I make sense of the world. It’s how I communicate. It’s how I comprehend and how information stays. Often I think I don’t have a very good memory, but if I’ve made a story that’s how I recall the interaction.

Ania Freer kneels behind a camera while a woman gathers berries in a basket.

SP: That makes sense too with you so often telling your stories through film. Because if you're seeing these stories in a visual way, then that's the most intimate way you could portray that and share with others.

AF: Absolutely. Because that’s a way of bringing people into an experience, which is ultimately what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to recreate these moments: sitting down on a riverbank and hearing a particular story; staring down at the water and noticing a leaf floating on the surface. Film is a way to sort of recreate that experience and bring someone into that world that’s happening in my mind.

SP: That reminds me of one of your films “Working with Water” where there’s a man’s voice and you don’t see his face. You just see the river. 

AF: Exactly. It’s also the meditative moments like when you’re listening to someone, but you’re looking off at the environment and letting your mind wander. It’s almost like watching clouds or watching shapes in nature. Things change and shift, and you’re kind of filling in the gaps.

SP: Yeah, those associative jumps.

AF: Yeah, so there’s the reeds, which are moving and flowing, and they’re just underneath the water surface. He’s talking about these spirits that live in the water, and at moments the reeds are sucked down and pop back up again. It just felt like a presence. My mind is taking from what’s around and creating these types of pictures and images.

Jamaica’s Roaring River.

SP: I liked what you said earlier too about your mom’s friend who is a storyteller. That idea of reminding people of their own stories.

AF: Mmm that’s an interesting one. Often when I say to someone, “I want to record some stories with you,” people might be like, “Well, I don’t really have any stories.” 

SP: (laughs) The number of times I’ve heard that!

AF: Even if I’ve already identified “Okay, this is a really incredible story.” They’ll still say, “I don’t have any stories!” It’s definitely a very empowering experience to be guided to talk and think about your life and your history and start forming a story that you don’t even realize was a story. It’s a sort of accessing, or being guided into accessing, that information.

Ania sets up a camera in front of a storyteller.

SP: When did you start to think of yourself as a storyteller? And from there, when did you start to formulate what type of stories you wanted to be telling and collecting and sharing?

AF: The label of storyteller came to me and at first it made me a little uncomfortable. With my mum’s friend Chardi, she allowed people to access stories, but she also tells a lot of stories. I’m doing more of allowing that access. I work very hard to make my presence feel very invisible, so that it’s their voice. 

The films that I’m making feel very much like you’re in the world of this person. But of course, it’s shot and edited and highly crafted by me. I’m really chiseling away and making it exactly how I see that story coming together. It took a minute to feel comfortable inserting myself and recognizing that part of the craft. I approached it with this need of empowering someone else and allowing them the space to share part of their history. Initially I was trying to give them as much space as possible. Overtime, I’m reflecting that really I’m making big decisions about which parts of the story are being kept and what isn’t. That shaping and editing is the storytelling, the crafting, the molding. 

You know, I come from a background of editing. I was drawn to editing, specifically documentary editing, because that is really where a story takes shape. In the cutting room. More so than in fiction films where you have a script that you’re following, things are happening in the raw footage. The pacing and what you’re choosing to keep in and keep out is really informing the audience’s journey. When I discovered editing I was so excited because it felt very powerful. It was like, “Wow, you can really shift and change and play and create moods and tension.” But again, I resisted taking that title storyteller because I felt like I was representing storytellers. I was giving space to storytellers and was a conduit or providing the platform for the storytellers. And then accepting that by doing the work that I’m doing, I am a storyteller. 

SP: Yeah, there’s multiple storytellers at play.

AF: And that was an interesting shift that happened.

SP: Would you say you now feel comfortable with that term storyteller?

AF: Absolutely. It was probably just a moment in time and in my journey where I was wanting to be quite invisible and having a lot of very incredible experiences and wanting to share those without me. Share them so an audience can experience them themselves. I’m not making it about myself at all. Especially because I’d come into a new culture: my father is British Jamaican, my grandparents immigrated to the UK in the 50s and I didn’t grow up with my father or any of that side of the family. 

I grew up with my mother in Australia, so when I went to Jamaica I had this cultural connection and heritage, but I don’t have any sort of lived experience of that. I felt very self conscious of that. I felt wary about how to negotiate making that personal connection. I felt more comfortable representing the sort of experiences I’m having through recreating the images that felt of the environment that spoke to the experience that I was having. But without it being about me because it was the people, the landscape, the culture, the food, the smells. All of these things was what I wanted to show and represent and allow an audience to experience. 

Cecil “Bingy” Smith weaves a basket.

SP: I feel that sensitivity really shows in your work. I think where that aspect could’ve turned into a sense of distance, in your hands it creates this closeness. We step right into where you were standing and are able to have that same face-to-face interaction.

AF: Good. Thank you! That’s what I want.

SP: When did you start telling the stories of what has become Goat Curry Gallery?

AF: From the moment I arrived in Jamaica. I think it was the 30th of October, 2016. I landed in Jamaica, in Montego Bay, and went straight up to a community called Shrewsbury Logwood, which is right next to Roaring River. I had started a new Instagram account and the first post I made on it was me at a transfer in the Texas airport just before I got on the plane. First I had this intention of documenting stories around food and culture. And then I arrived in Jamaica only to realize its called curried goat. And I was like, “Goat Curry is going to have to stay because that’s a part of my story.” Because in Australia it is called goat curry. It’s the upside-down, other-side-of-the-world experience of a disconnected, diasporic woman who’s trying to connect.

SP: I love that you honored that and didn’t try to cover it up.

AF: Well, yeah, (laughs) I was like “Oh, okay that’s what it’s called.” I also started so quickly. I realized it wasn’t about food. It was about people, and very quickly there were stories. I made my first one, which was the one on the cotton tree, in the first week or two of being there. But then as I started sharing stories and people started following my journey, I couldn’t change the name. Once you have a nickname, people know you and associate you with it.

To begin with, my intention was to spend a month or two [in Jamaica] and I was just going to travel the island and recce characters for this series about food and culture. Instead, I spent two full months in Roaring River. I got there and I didn’t leave. My ticket was coming up and I was like, “No, I can’t go anywhere. I’m here and the work has just begun.” I just canceled my ticket and went to Kingston to apply for my citizenship. And then I didn’t leave. I was there for almost seven years. 

SP: When you went to apply for your citizenship, did you have any idea you were going to stay that long?

AF: Yeah. I decided very quickly that this was where I need to be. 

When I came through New York to get to Jamaica, I also had this very strong sensation that I was going to live in New York. So when I first got to Jamaica, I thought, “I’m going to spend a little here, go back to New York, figure out a way of getting a VISA to be able to live in New York, but when I got to Jamaica I was like, “No, no, no. I’m living here for the rest of my life. This is it.” 

It’s just so interesting, all of these moments. I don’t discredit any kind of strong sensation I get. Even if it changes, I know that it happened for a reason. I knew that being in New York was going to be a part of my journey, I just didn’t know when. I also know that Jamaica is now a huge part of my life and I’m not sure if I’m ever going to live there again full time, but I now live three and a half hours away. I am continuously going back and continuing the work that I’m doing. Maybe there will be another period of time when I’m on the ground and I live there… But I love when that happens, when there’s very strong impulses and knowings.

SP: When you can just feel it in your bones.

AF: When you feel it in your bones and you just know. I love when that happens. I find it very scary when I can’t access that. 

Another view of Roaring River.

SP: When was it that you started to feel the pull to New York again?

AF: It was when I started to feel that I wasn’t able to give as much as I once was. When I started to feel depleted and I always said to myself I’m in such a privileged position to have a choice of where I want to be. I have Australian, British, and Jamaican citizenship. I’m very privileged to be able to move around. Instead of feeling guilty about that, I thought, “Well, there’s a reason.” With the storytelling that I’m doing, I’m in a position to build bridges and allow stories to access the diaspora in a much more powerful way. 

I was also very clear that if I started to feel tired and depleted and frustrated, that I would do what I needed to feed myself, so that when I am in Jamaica, when I am on the ground I am there with good energy. I saw ex-pats who didn’t need to be there and were complaining about bureaucracy and how things weren’t moving how they wanted. They didn’t have to be here and by perpetuating this frustration, you’re generating or contributing to a vibration that isn’t needed. 

The majority of the population don’t have the choice, so it felt like a responsibility. I felt a responsibility to be in a place to have positive conversations, be in a good mental space, and be looking after myself spiritually and emotionally. You know, there is a lot of violence in Jamaica and a lot of crime. You end up having to move and operate in a way where there’s a heightened sense of vigilance. That can be exhausting. I was definitely at a place where I was feeling very depleted and wasn’t in a good mental space. I had arrived in an open place, and I had to learn how to build my own protection. And then you can go too far with that and completely box yourself in. I definitely had long stretches of time when I shut myself off from getting support and community that I needed. 

I had a strong pull in 2019 that something had to change. I had an impulse and thought I needed to go back to Australia. So I packed my stuff, book a ticket, and I go back to Australia. I had just finished a Curatural Art Writing Fellowship at New Local Space (NLS) Kingston and put on an exhibition. Things were really happening in an exciting way, but I just felt I had to go.

The week before I got on the plane, someone reached out with this really exciting job opportunity. They were doing a feasibility report across the Caribbean and they needed help collecting stories from different countries for this funding program through the arts. And as soon as they approached me I was like, “Absolutely! Yes!” So I went to Australia for Christmas and then came straight back again. And then, of course, the pandemic hit and the job didn’t happen. It’s like, you never really know what’s right or wrong. I just had to make a movement, and by making that movement something else came and pulled me back. That something was like, “Okay, good you made a movement. That’s not the right movement. You actually want to be here, but you’re not doing what you think.” 

So I was back in Kingston and I was there for the whole pandemic. It was actually a really generative time. I built an incredible community and it was a really important transformational time for me in Jamaica. I love that not-always-knowing, in terms of the way life works. You just have to get up and do something. The wind pulls you. The universe. God. Whatever it is. The universe redirects you and you are exactly where you need to be.

SP: There’s a poet that I really like that has a line, “be like the fox who makes many tracks, some in the wrong direction.”*

AF: Absolutely. Wrong direction as in, that’s not the direction you end up.

SP: Yeah, wrong is relative.

AF: It’s like a detour. But I really believe you cannot go in the wrong direction. You’re always on the path you need to be on. As long as you are being an active participant. As long as you are getting up and making decisions, and you’re sort of responding to the environment. Being active to what’s coming in and coming out. Then you absolutely cannot make the wrong decision.

The silk cotton tree.

SP: I’m curious about being in New York now, how has that ended up affecting your practice? Has that created space for that rejuvenation and bringing a better energy when you do visit Jamaica?

AF: Absolutely it has. I feel like my energy levels are up. It’s also been good for me to have space to sit with the material that I have. I’m so inspired when I’m in Jamaica, to the point where I could keep on making, making, making. What’s interesting now is because I’m not particularly inspired by making films in New York, but it means I’m now going back through my archives and looking at interviews and films and sitting with them.

There’s an interview that I went back to that I recorded with a woman in the first week or so of arriving in Jamaica. Her patois is so strong. I had no idea of half the things she was saying at the time. It’s so nice now to revisit. There’s layers of the story that are now coming through. It’s a big part of knowing that I needed to take my time. You know, things come to you as they are meant to. And I didn’t want to be extractive in any of the ways that I’m working. So even the fact that with certain stories there’s an opacity or they’re not completely clear until years later, I love that. And I love that what I’m doing right now, how I’m sharing my work, and how I’m being invited to talk about my work. This is work that I made between 2016 and 2022. It’s work that people haven’t really seen and I haven’t shared. It’s old, but it’s not old. 

SP: Yeah, it hasn’t gone stale.

AF: No, that was the moment to be making it, and this is the moment now to be sharing it and contextualizing it. Being in New York now has given me time to do more research in different archives about these water mythologies, and now I’ve started to look more at revivalism, which is an Afro-Jamaican folk religion that has allowed these stories to continue and has provided a space for them to be passed down. So even though I was in such close proximity to a lot of these things that were happening on the ground, I’m also receiving and learning and making it in a way that can only go as fast as I can. 

The way that I conduct research is to be a participant on the ground and to be receiving in a natural way. It’s qualitative research. It’s through conversations. Instead of informing myself by reading a lot of history or researching in different ways, I’m enjoying learning in a day-to-day way as a child would learn as they are living and being somewhere. I think it’s really good for me now to begin contextualizing some of these stories and these histories. That’s really exciting because I’m now looking at ways to expand that research. 

As I go back to Jamaica and record more and unearth and collect and build that archive of stories, I’m informed in ways, but it’s still important to me to operate in a way that feels… I don’t know… I just don’t want to fill my head with too much and come in with certain projections. 

I’m learning on the ground, and I just much prefer that way of learning because I make different types of associations and connections. They’re informed more by people’s own lived experiences.  Both inform each other and both are good. Both are helpful and both are interesting. But I had a moment where I was having a conversation about a cotton tree, and I had read some things about this particular tree. As we were talking, as this man was telling me about the tree, I also joined in. I said a few things I had read about this tree and he shut down very quickly. He was telling me about how the tree looked like a woman selling fruit at the market and was describing it in this very poetic way that was really exciting. When I regurgitated some facts about these trees that I’d read in a book, it just changed the dynamic. It made me very aware of different knowledge systems.

SP: It sounds like the difference between trying to make meaning of something or letting that meaning arrive to you.

AF: Yeah, it’s that patience of letting something arrive. For me there’s no rush. I have so far allowed very long periods of time for these short moments and vignettes to come to life. It’s in those long stretches where I’m not physically making a film, but I’m sitting in rivers or spending time in different parts of the country. I’m learning to move very slowly and operate in different ways and learning the codes of life. That feels like a very important but invisible part of the work. 

Ania perches on a rock to take a photo.

AF: Even coming here to New York, I’m negotiating this resistance to be sucked into the speed of things. There’s so many things going on, but I know that I can only do so much. And it is what it is. I’m just trying to remind myself of my pace because I know what it is now. When I was younger I struggled because I was working in production and I wasn’t owning my pace. I was comparing myself to peers or the industry. I would get so stressed. And the difference is now, I’m working on my own as opposed to other people’s projects. 

It’s so lovely now to know that some of my days don’t really start until 3:00 p.m. Because I’m not ready until about then! It also may involve, you know, I have to go lay in a park for a little bit of time. And that can still be a long big day, they just look different. And obviously, there’s times where it is what it is and you have to get through. But it always has to be a balance. Knowing that, appreciating that, leaning into that and prioritizing is something that this time in Jamaica has informed and has allowed me to really feel comfortable.

SP: It’s hard to carve out those margin spaces. Especially in a place like New York, where culturally that can feel so contrary. I empathize strongly with the walks in the park. When I’m stuck on a piece, I hop in the shower to create that space for generative thoughts. But in the moment, it can feel like the last logical thing to do.

AF: Exactly. Taking breaks and having different conditions… and movement! I’ve just started running in the mornings. It gives me so much energy. And that’s something I really missed when living in Jamaica, especially in Kingston. Where I lived, there’s no pavements. It just ends up feeling vulnerable and it doesn’t feel as easy to do. But actually, during the pandemic there was this mountain that a friend and I would run up. There was this area, I guess it was a golf course, but it was full of mango trees. We would walk it in the morning and pick and eat them as we were walking. It was very special. 

SP: You’re bringing back so many memories for me. I haven’t been back since 2019.

AF: Oh wow, you’re due a visit! Have you ever been to Portland or do you mostly go to Montego Bay?

SP: Mostly Montego Bay. I’ve been up to Knockpatrick and Mandeville in the mountains. It’s totally different than where I spent most of my time. The coolness of the mountains and the mist in the mornings… even just a totally different smell from Montego Bay, which is that mix of ocean and salt and city smell. 

How often do you try to get yourself there?

AF: For most of last year I was waiting on my green card, so I wasn’t able to travel. It came at the start of this year and as soon as it arrived in the post, I booked a ticket. (laughs) Literally within fifteen minutes of opening it. 

This year has been really busy. I had some time now, but I also haven’t seen my family in the UK for seven years. So next week, we’re going to London for two weeks. I needed to do that.

SP: That’s hard when you have your heart and your roots in so many different places.

AF: Yeah. Both of my Jamaican grandparents are in London and they’re both getting older and having different health issues. So I really need to go and spend some time with them. But the dream is to visit Jamaica three times a year. That’s what I’m working towards because it’s only three and a half hours away.

SP: That’s such a quick trip!

AF: Such a quick trip! The dream is to generate the support I need through different avenues here in New York. To be able to go [to Jamaica] and do dedicated recording of stories and making work. Then come back here and edit and stuff. Also the Real Talk series, I plan to turn that into a slightly longer episodic series that focus on different themes and people’s stories in twelve minute pieces instead of one minute pieces. So have two stories per episode, but then this also exists as an episodic series. This national treasure of archives. You know, these current moments and stories of people across the country in different communities, experiences, oral histories. 

SP: I love the scope of that.

AF: I want it to be ongoing. So that’s the plan. I see that happening. And once I see something then it normally happens.

SP: Yeah, that’s kind of the story that I’m getting from this conversation. It’s going to happen. Well, I’m excited to see it continue to evolve and unfold. I’ll also have to tell you when I get that trip on the books. Maybe we’ll overlap.

AF: Yeah, that would be amazing. I can definitely give you some tips on what to do, where to go.

SP: That’d be beautiful. I’d love to see some new places. This has been really lovely. Thanks so much for taking the time to connect. And thanks for being willing to be on the other side of the interview scene too.

AF: Oh absolutely.

SP: I’ll talk to you soon.

AF: Thank you. Have a great rest of your day.

Ania Freer is an Australian-Jamaican artist, filmmaker, cultural researcher, and curator living and working between Jamaica and New York. Through installation, film and curating, Ania uses oral histories to explore identity through themes of class, race, resistance, labor, craft traditions and folklore. Her intimate archive of films work to disrupt imperialist narratives and recenter marginalized voices. Ania is the founder of Goat Curry Gallery, a platform which features artworks from Jamaican craft producers along with her documentary series Real Talk, an intimate collection of oral histories. She holds a Bachelor of Arts in Anthropology and Film Theory from the University of Sydney.

Ania’s work has been exhibited at the National Gallery of Jamaica and her film, Strictly Two Wheel, won Best Documentary Short at Trinidad and Tobago Film Festival in 2022. Ania is a Curatorial and Art Writing Fellow at New Local Space Kingston and has attended residences such as Art Omi and AIRIE (Artist in Residence in Everglades). Her practice has been supported by Something Special Studios Black Creative Endeavours Grant, Caribbean Film Academy, American Australian Association and DVCAI.

This interview is a modified transcript of a conversation shared between Ania Freer and Shanley Poole on August 13, 2024. It was published using Ethical Storytelling Practices modeled after the principles created by Voice of Witness.

*Poem excerpt from Wendell Berry’s “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front.”

All photos courtesy of Ania Freer.

Artist Profile: Michael Cuadrado

Directionality, semiotics, and deep roots with Alumni Artist-in-Residence, Michael Cuadrado.

Michael Cuadradro’s first encounter with Ox-Bow spanned the entirety of the summer of 2017. As a Summer Fellow, he spent 13 weeks on campus, splitting his time between the studio and a work placement in the kitchen. The season hosted visits to the beach, evenings on the volleyball court, and nights around the campfire. Cuadrado described his summer as a time not only to deepen his practice, but also his sense of self. He had just finished his junior year of undergraduate studies at the Pratt Institute, where he rooted his work in figurative painting, drawing, and collage. Having come out the year before, many of the renderings involved portrayals of nude men, and at Ox-Bow he found a receptive community not only for his art, but also his burgeoning identity. As the youngest of the fellows, the staff and faculty seemed extra intent on nurturing this youthful, energetic artist. 

Ox-Bow’s rural campus stood in stark contrast to Pratt’s New York cityscape, but Cuadrado took to the new environment with ease. By the time he returned to New York for his final year of undergraduate, he found himself daydreaming about Ox-Bow, its quiet meadow and open air studios. In 2019, Cuadrado fulfilled this dream and stepped into a new role in the housekeeping department. As another season came to a close, Cuadrado looked towards returning to Ox-Bow for another bustling year in 2020. Of course, as was the case all across the globe, things took an unexpected turn at Ox-Bow.

Rather than spending that summer hustling to change beds and sweep floors, Cuadradro found himself on an ultra quiet campus. There were no students romping through studios or dancing on the meadow. Only Cuadrado and a few other staff members resided on campus. As the Covid-19 pandemic progressed, Cuadrado once again found campus providing a sort of reprieve from the city. While others took to making sourdough and riding stationary bikes, Cuadrado became an avid reader during the early stages of the pandemic. “This is going to sound heady,” Cuadrado admitted, “but I was reading this book on the beginnings of semiotics.” Having spent so much time in solitude, he (like many others during 2020) began to question just about everything. So he returned to the basics of the visual world, curious what the most rudimentary characters symbolized. He also cracked open Sara Ahmed’s Queer Phenomenology, which explores the idea of directionality within semiotics. “I was lost,” Cuadrado said of those first pandemic months, “so I was like, ‘Let’s just go back to the beginning.’” And in this exploration of semiotics, Cuadrado found new footing. 

Photo courtesy of the artist, Michael Cuadrado.

“That winter I made a lot of work, because what else was I going to do?” Cuadrado said in both jest and earnest. For weeks, he spent his days reading in the morning, pausing for lunch, and then heading to the studio for the afternoon. With semiotics on the mind, arrows began to appear in his work as he explored Ahmed’s proposed interpretations of directionality. These paintings would eventually carry Cuadrado to the portfolio that brought him to Yale for his MFA, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

Cuadrado eventually transitioned from housekeeping to Programs Manager. With experiences as a fellow, campus staff, and now administration, Cuadrado emphasized the holistic view of Ox-Bow that he was able to glean. With each position, his understanding of the organization deepened, and it was only through much discretion and consideration that he decided to leave Ox-Bow in the fall of 2022 to pursue a Masters in Fine Arts at Yale. There Cuadrado continued to invest not only in his arts practice, but also the realm of academic and research-based writing. He maintained his pandemic practice of reading copious amounts of literature and became particularly attracted to theory-based courses at Yale.

In 2024, Cuadrado applied for the Summer Residency at Ox-Bow, which returned him to campus for a 3 week stay. “This was my first summer coming to Ox-Bow where I wasn't staff or working alongside staff,” Cuadrado reflected. During this time, Cuadrado stepped back into the ease and slowness of Ox-Bow. “I started the residency thinking I would work on ‘large’ oil paintings… However, I found myself continuously making smaller chalk pastel drawings or thinking about potential installations.” He indulged in both long afternoons in the studio and easy evenings around the campfire. “The most generative experiences outside the studio were conversations with other people,” Cuadrado said. It was these very conversations, as so often is the case at Ox-Bow, that made their way into the studio and onto the paper.

Michael Cuadrado Gonzalez (b. 1995) is an artist born in San Juan, Puerto Rico. He received a BFA in Drawing from Pratt Institute in 2018 and an MFA in Painting and Printmaking from Yale University in 2024. Cuadrado has attended residencies at Wassaic Project, BOLT at the Chicago Artists Coalition, Ox-Bow School of Art and Artists' Residency, and the School of Criticism and Theory at Cornell University. He has exhibited nationally including solo exhibitions at Harkawik and Coco Hunday.

This article was written by Shanley Poole, Engagement Liaison & Storyteller and was based on an interview and email correspondence conducted from April to September of 2024.

Photos by Dominique Muñoz (Summer Fellow, 2024).

Artist Profile: Steven Smith

Leather artisan, Steven Smith, shares about his journey to finding his craft and identity in the arts.

In the fall of 2017, Steven Smith started designing his first leather journal. He worked in secret, hiding the hobby from his family in the locker room of the soccer stadium where he coached. That Christmas he gifted me, his daughter, with that journal. It was a surprise that harkened back to the weekly trips we used to take to Barnes & Noble where I would stare longingly at the shelves of journals with dimpled leather and yellowed pages. We journeyed there every Wednesday during my middle school years on the evenings my mom had graduate school classes.

The same year my dad began crafting in secret, he announced he would retire from coaching at the season’s end. What had served as a decades-long career would soon sit in the past. Thinking he might be due for a new hobby, I picked up a book (from our Barnes & Noble, of course) on leather crafting to give to him at Christmas.

The exchange of gifts seems serendipitous in retrospect. Six years later, Steven Smith is the artist behind Holland Leather Works. From his workshop, he has produced passport holders, portable bar kits, wine quivers, portfolios, and more. Through leather crafting, he has found not just a second career, but another passion. When he creates new designs, especially custom works, he often finds himself thinking, “This is something this person should have for generations.” In one of our many conversations about his craft, he expressed that he had always loved art, but at a young age wrote himself off from being an artist. In sixth grade, he stopped drawing, certain he could never measure up to Ronny, his older brother. “I saw my brother's art and I thought now he's an artist and I'm not,” Smith confided. My uncle went on to pursue an MFA and career in neon glassblowing and metals, while my father tried to leave art behind and became a professor and collegiate soccer coach.

Despite my father’s belief that he’d never be an artist, my memories throughout childhood serve contrary evidence. I remember him rendering a sketch of his dream house with makeshift drafting tools and using woodworking skills to craft furniture, including the live-edge oak console table that now sits in my living room. Even while he was in graduate school, he found himself learning a new craft, which would eventually serve his leather work well: sewing. At the time, my mother was working at an interior design company who asked her to make pillows after hours for extra cash. During times when orders were high, he’d help cut fabric, sew, and even develop new patterns. He described it as “a skill of necessity” because it helped pay the bills through school. 

While it has taken several decades, the leather artisan has finally accepted his identity as an artist. Smith shared that his creative process usually begins in the night owl’s hours. “Ideas will pop into my mind and then I have trouble falling asleep,” he said. The day after, he’ll usually wake naturally around 4:00 or 5:00 a.m. With a new concept in mind, it’s easy to hop out of bed and head to the workshop, where he’ll turn on an English Premier League game, an audiobook, or classic rock. “Yeah, you might even find me dancing while I'm working,” he said, his confession managing to shock the author of this article. On those early studio mornings, the hours fly by as Smith troubleshoots new concepts and builds prototypes. Those are the days that reignite the creative spirit of the craft, the days that get him through the monotony of others spent on repetitious matters like producing several dozen wallets or passport holders.

After six years and the production of several products, Smith still favors making journals. “There’s something about those that makes me so happy,” he said, admitting part of that is the nostalgia of our days spent at Barnes & Noble. “This would not be happening in my life if it wasn’t for those Wednesday nights… Every time that I went there with you, I would think I could do that,” he said and years later he has proven his thoughts true.

Find Steven Smith’s artisan made journals, backpacks, wallets, and more at Ox-Bow House in Downtown Douglas.

Steven Smith is a leather artisan from Holland, Michigan. He began his craft in response to his daughter’s love of writing in her journals. In response Steven started hand crafting journals for her which turned into many requests for more from friends who saw the work. The expansion into the art continued to grow as time passed to include many forms of leather artisan products including bags, purses, wallets, and many other specialty items. Steven is a retired professor emeritus at Hope College.

This article was written by Shanley Poole, Engagement Liaison & Storyteller. The article was originally published in our Experience Ox-Bow 2024 Catalog.

All images provided courtesy of the artist.

Artist Profile: Sarah Ann Banks

Sarah Ann Banks talks digital art, surfing eBay, and telling the story of a baby mammoth.

Like many artists, Banks shares time between her studio practice and contracted gigs. In her case, such gigs include design work for esteemed brands such as Harper's Bazaar, Urban Outfitters, and Coach. Banks channeled her ever present spark while discussing these opportunities, but there was no comparison for the enthusiasm that emerged when she started discussing her studio practice. Here she allows her imagination and current obsessions to carry her to the furthest reaches. Inspirations include deep dives into Ebay where she enjoys hunting for vintage toys made in the USSR. “They have an amazing talent for [making] the most haunted squeak toys,” she explained with a laugh. During my studio visit in July, Banks was working with an antiques seller to secure a vintage Edward Mobley elephant-shaped toy box. Banks follows these obsessions and threadlines with dogged dedication. This focus has proved a major asset to the narrative component of her work. “I get fixated on something I see and then I try to develop a backstory,” Banks explains.

WolfDog by Sarah Banks. Image courtesy of the artist.

This dedication and attention results in rich characters at the forefront of her designs and complex landscapes composing the backdrop. Also present is the whimsical inspirations sourced from Banks’s childhood. Those familiar with Littlest Pet Shop and My Little Pony will see the resemblance in the luxurious eyelashes and bobble-sized heads of Banks’s creations. Don’t let this whimsy be mistaken for simplicity. Fueling her worlds are inspirations from science-minded podcasts. In her hydra series she explores anti-aging properties and the eternal nature of these mysterious (and very real) species of the Cnidaria phylum. And as one might expect from someone hunting Ebay for USSR-era children’s toys, some of Banks’s characters house a distinctly haunted look inside their sweet, doe eyes.

Most recently, the character that has been knocking on the door of Banks’s imagination is a mammoth. Specifically, a baby mammoth, once frozen in the ice, who has unfrozen in a heat wave. The narrative takes inspiration from biotech company Colossal BioScience, which is working to bring extinct species (such as the mammoth) back to life through genetic engineering. She is particularly fascinated by the paradox of such an ancient creature in infant form. “I'm interested in making some sort of body of work that's all about one story,” Banks says, which contrasts her more recent works that focus on small, unrelated stories. Her hunch is that this baby mammoth might be the perfect lead. This isn’t the only shift Banks is contemplating, she’s also interested in converting her digital renderings to paintings and drawings.

Mammoth Caterpillar by Sarah Ann Banks. Image Courtesy of the artist.

When Banks first came to Ox-Bow during the summer of 2018, she wasn’t strictly a digital artist. At the time she was an undergraduate student at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. While pursuing her degree, she shared her focus between ceramics and digital art. Since graduating, Banks stepped away from ceramics and focused on deepening her digital practice. But now she’s itching to expand that practice through different forms. All this coincides with Banks's return to Ox-Bow. Six years after her first visit, Banks was invited to campus for a three week stay as one of two 2024 Alumni Artists-in-Residence. In preparation for her time at Ox-Bow, where she believed the environment would be most conducive to manifesting these more physical works, she took a class from an artist who specializes in turning 3d artwork to oil paintings.

Mammoth Risograph by Sarah Ann Banks. Image courtesy of the artist.

Once on campus, Banks wasted no time unearthing the mammoth from her subconscious. After setting up her computer, she began rendering the baby mammoth. Through various iterations, Banks established the dynamic range of this ancient, infant creature. In one depiction, two mammoths frolic through a field of flowers in a carefree yet deeply feverish dream. Another showcases the mammoth’s capacity for loneliness as tears well in their eyes. In yet another, the creature, abstracted to only its head, calls to mind a talisman or deity. Banks translated two of these portraits into oil paintings, using the methods of the tutorial she took before arriving at Ox-Bow. The translation from digital to physical, felt poetically reminiscent of the mammoth's own journey from DNA to physical. While the oil paintings can’t capture the same literalism of digital work, the layers of paint and depth of color created their own sort of realness.

Mammoth Spiral by Sarah Ann Banks. Image courtesy of the artist.

Continuing with more physical translations, Banks also utilized Ox-Bow’s print studio during her residency. In particular, she experimented with the Risograph. “In 3D [work] you can be endlessly tweaking,” Banks explained, but many of these details fade amidst the granular nature of Risos. In the instance of the flowery fever dream, the faded quality works in favor of the piece. It’s as if we're viewing the young mammoth through a coming-of-age camcorder shot. Through experimentation of form, Banks is able to capture soulful portraits with oil painting, nostalgia with Riso prints, and the hyperreal with digital. Over the course of three weeks, Banks lived into the quintessential Artist Residency experience. She dug deep into her practice, experimented with new forms, and invested in the resources on campus. At the intersection of Bank’s passion and Ox-Bow’s offerings, she brought plans and visions to life and the story she produced was one so characteristic of her work: wholly whimsical and deeply soulful. 

Sarah Ann Banks is a digital artist based in Brooklyn, New York, working primarily with 3D animation software. She uses the virtual space to build an expansive world full of fantastical objects and creatures. These creations are born from vintage objects, nature, and her own personal narratives. Banks develops stories and personalities that overlap between her works, updating with her own interests and daily life. These artworks often act as a diary, tracking her daily interests and fixations. The content ranges from distressed carnival prizes to moody gargoyles. Banks received a BFA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in 2019. Some of her recent clients include Instagram, Urban Decay, Coach, and Harper’s Bazaar.

This article was written by Shanley Poole, Engagement Liaison & Storyteller and was based on interviews conducted in April and July of 2024.

Ox-News: Summer Reading

Highlights from Jon Brown, Chidinma Nnoli, kg, and more!

Dear Readers,

Since long before my appointment as Storyteller at Ox-Bow, storytelling has been a part of the fabric of this treasured, 114 year-old institution. It’s how traditions, culture, and lore pass from one generation of Ox-Bowians to the next. In my role, I’m able to talk to the torch bearers of these traditions: faculty who have taught for decades, fellows who are spending their first summer on campus, and everyone in between. In 2023, we launched Ox-Bow News on our website. As we round out over a year of sharing stories online, we wanted to share some of our favorites. In this batch of highlights we share the story of our favorite bartender Jon Brown, former fellow Jack Holly, Artist-in-Residence Chidinma Nnoli, and many beloved others! Thanks for journeying with me and these artists by engaging with their stories. I look forward to sharing more story highlights with you in the months to come.

With admiration and gratitude,

Shanley Poole, Engagement Liaison & Storyteller

John Brown serves Ashley M. Freeby a drink. Photo by Jamie Kelter Davis.

Partner Profile: John Brown

The driving force behind John Brown’s career is a philosophy of hospitality. One encounters this spirit almost immediately upon meeting Brown, who lends winning smiles, gentle jokes, and a spark of curiosity to even the briefest of conversations. As bartender and mixologist, Brown explains it's his job to “throw a party for everyone,” and this is not a role he takes lightly. His primary goal of extending hospitality and putting guests at ease is extended through the one-on-one interactions he shares with those ordering drinks as well as the general atmosphere that his drinks build throughout the night.

A still from Jack Holly’s film Big Yellow Horse. Image courtesy of the artist.

Summer Fellow: Jack Holly

During the summer of 2023, after completing their BFA at the Kansas City Art Institute, Holly started their portrait series on campus where they spent 13 weeks as a Summer Fellow at Ox-Bow School of Art & Artists’ Residency. In each photo, an individual identifying as queer or gender nonconforming faces away from the camera and holds an object of meaning to them. “It's one of those projects that I kind of consider a sketchbook practice because it's not really a main tenet of my practice, but it's a way for me to continue photographing and getting to know people and understanding the weird part of people's lives,” explained Holly. During each portrait session, Holly incorporates an interview to better understand the individual. Oftentimes, the stories they reveal are deeply personal.

A headshot of kg and their dog. Image courtesy of the artist.

Artist Profile: kg

When I entered kg’s weaving class in January of 2022, I was drawn first to a mighty stack of books at the back of the studio. kg had arrived with an entire traveling library (though they clarified it was only a 12th of their collection). Over the years, these books have served as objects of sentiment and inspiration to kg’s practice and method of instruction. “I don’t actually assign readings,” they said. Instead, they talk about the possibilities with their students and allow them to mutually agree upon the texts they’ll engage together. After only a brief conversation with kg that January, I left with multiple book recommendations. The readings eventually selected for their courses are “the result of the conversations that are happening between students.” This in turn creates a course, a syllabus, a series of conversations custom fit to the community of learners. With this background in mind, I knew kg was an ideal facilitator for Longform, a residency built upon long talks, walks, conversation, and contemplation.

A headshot of Chidinma Nnoli in front of her work. Image courtesy of the artist.

Artist Profile: Chidinma Nnoli

Artist and Ox-Bow Alumni Chidinma Nnoli resists those that put her in boxes, and I understand why. She describes herself as a homebody who rarely leaves her home studio in Lagos, Nigeria, but in 2023 she spent two months in London, three weeks in Florida, and another three at Ox-Bow School of Art & Artists’ Residency. It all began with a desire to explore new places and create without the pressure of deadlines. “I needed to pause… and put out work that I was curious about,” Nnoli specified. To spur this shift, she decided to get out of her home studio, and the country while she was at it. “I wanted to go out and see new things,” Nnoli said. And so she did.

Recent News:

• Exploring the path less traveled with Christen Baker

• Summer Fellow Write-Up

• Visionary Awardee: John Rossi

• Visionary Awardee: Larry Gammons

Banner image: Portrait of John Rossi by Jack Holly. Image courtesy of the artist.

In Line

Exploring abundant joy in linework with Mark Thomas Gibson

“There's a certain type of drawer who's constantly looking for lines, who wants to see lines, who loves drawing,” Mark Thomas Gibson said, adding that that’s what initially attracted him to comics. He was in elementary school when he fell in love with his first comic, an issue of Wolverine by John Buscema.

Gibson still finds himself drawn to lines, but as he’s spent more time with comics his care for the genre has grown in its diversity. Beyond the linework and style, he believes comics are an essential way in which we can connect to others stories and offer our own. He sees voices, intention, and individual perspectives shining through his students’ work.

Mark Thomas Gibson delivers a lecture under the tent on the meadow. Photo by Dominique Muñoz (Summer Fellow, 2024).

Despite Gibson’s current adoration for comics, which started in his youth, he set them aside for a number of years. He described himself as a product of the 1950’s war on comics. Born in 1980, Gibson explained that war lasted well beyond the 50’s. Even in undergrad he resisted taking a drawing class “because drawing was the devil,” according to his upbringing. When he finally took the course, he fell in love fast, describing the experience as meeting an evil mistress.

When the dean of his department in graduate school visited Gibson’s studio, it was a drawing that the dean purchased. Gibson remembers questioning his decision, wishing he’d instead been more attracted to one of his paintings. The dean left the young artist with these parting words, “All this other shit doesn’t matter. These drawings, that’s it!” A tough pill to swallow, it took Gibson another two years before he accepted those words. Eventually he came around. Not only did his drawings attract viewers, Gibson also realized he found more joy in producing drawings.

This realization left a profound impact on Gibson and has transformed his relationship with both his creative practice and teaching. Gibson values the moments in the studio when he catches a student lighting up about their own idea. In those moments he asks them, “don’t you want more of that?” Over and over, he finds that when students are resistant to pursuing that spark, it’s because someone along the way told them “this isn’t right.” In Gibson’s space, he strives to get students back in touch with their own voice and grant them trust and access to the limitless joy that comes from using that voice.

Gibson insists that working from that place of enthusiasm is key to giving back to other artists. You can only give to others when you are feeling satisfied in your own practice. He admires the comic community for its commitment to this philosophy. Early in his career he sat down with a prolific comic writer at their house and the writer looked over his work. “He didn’t ask for anything in return, he just gave,” Gibson marveled. Evident in Gibson’s own life is this same generosity. Contrary to some other creatives, he doesn’t seem fatigued from teaching or mentorship. Instead, he delights in the opportunity to nurture their potential. He makes it clear that it’s not all encouragement, “I’ll question you, I’ll challenge you, but I always make it clear I’m on your side.”

This is the first year that Gibson’s course, “Considering Comics: Graphic Narratives in Ink,” will be offered at Ox-Bow. Students enrolled can expect to be guided by Gibson’s welcoming spirit, fervor for comics, and vast technique. His goal in every course is to equip students with a well stocked toolkit that will serve them well beyond their weeks on campus.

Headshot of Mark Thomas Gibson. Image courtesy of the artist.

Mark Thomas Gibson's (b. 1980, Miami, Florida) personal lens on American culture stems from his viewpoint as an artist, a professor, and an American history buff. These myriad and often colliding perspectives fuel his exploration of contemporary culture through the language of painting and drawing, revealing a vision of America where every viewer is implicated as a potential character within the story. Gibson has released two books: Some Monsters Loom Large, 2016, with funding from the Foundation for Contemporary Arts; and Early Retirement, 2017, with Edition Patrick Frey in Zurich. Gibson has been awarded: residencies at Yaddo; the Elizabeth Murray Artist Residency; a fellowship from the Pew Center for Arts and Heritage, Philadelphia; a Hodder Fellowship from the Lewis Center for the Arts, Princeton University; a Guggenheim Fellowship from the Guggenheim Memorial Foundation, New York; and was named a 2022 Grantee by The Louis Comfort Tiffany Foundation, New York. In 2023 Gibson had solo exhibitions at Sikkema & Jenkins Co. in New York and MOCAD in Detroit, and was included in the exhibition Rising Sun: Artists in an Uncertain America at the African American Museum in Philadelphia. Gibson is represented by M+B, (Los Angeles) and Loyal, (Stockholm, Sweden). He is currently an Assistant Professor of Painting at Tyler School of Art and Architecture, Temple University and lives and works in Philadelphia.

This article was written by Shanley Poole, Engagement Liaison & Storyteller. The article was originally published in our Experience Ox-Bow 2024 Catalog.

Banner: Mark Thomas Gibson, The Boys, 2023, ink on canvas. Image courtesy of the artist.

Carousel photos of students working in the studio by Dominique Muñoz (Summer Fellow, 2024).

Artist Profile: Paul Peng

Written by Natia Ser (Summer Fellow, 2023), this article dives into the contagious curiosity of Artist-in-Residence Paul Peng.

Before I recognized Paul Peng as one of Ox-Bow's Artist-in-Residence, I thought the face that had been showing up at every single campus event, always flashing a smile, belonged to a student who had a genuine and intense curiosity for other people's practice. He would show up to Faculty and Visiting Artist lectures, gripping his sketchbook and scribbling notes down as the presentation unfolded, before eagerly raising his hand to direct thoughtful inquiries to the speaker. It was on another night, while passing by him glued to his laptop in the Old Inn, where he engaged me in conversation filled with fervor despite the hour (math and art at 12 a.m.!), that I knew he was as avid of a speaker as he was a listener. This summer marks Paul's return to Ox-Bow since he first took a class here six years ago—which he fondly recalls as the time he wore a smile "all week long." With the same radiant beam, he sets foot on these grounds again, exerting an energy that illuminates through his countenance to warm everyone he meets. When I called it a night, he waved at me enthusiastically with a peace sign. Classic Paul. 

Paul points at his favorite work made during the residency.

The same energy permeates Paul’s art practice. In his Ox-Bow studio, his drawings overflow the walls and his sketchbooks—which he divides between "freak" sketchbooks and "actual" sketchbooks. "But the conditions of these books are the same in terms that there is no pressure in making them," he says as he flips through pages of old and new appearances of his rendition of Dipper from Gravity Falls. Weaving through his illustrations in the space are Risograph prints, collages, and ceramics—it seems that Paul has ventured beyond pencil sketches on paper during his time here.

Paul's favorite work he made during his residency—Dipper reimagined as a Chinese dragon over a magazine cut-out.

Paul has also been dabbling with a new way of mark-making. Covering one of his studio walls are dark, uniformed blobs and strokes that fill up sheets of paper. Bolstered by an interest in religion his whole life and inspired by the tranquil scenery of Ox-Bow that he has been waking up to recently, his latest endeavors involve using Sumi ink to make repetitive marks as a means to study Zen Buddhism. In describing the influences of this meditative practice, Paul recalls one of his favorite Pittsburgh-based artists whose work is informed by the same beliefs, as well as his sister who once commented on how Paul's intuitive, improvisatory approach to his works converges with the Zen Buddhist notion of a beginner's mind. "[Zen Buddhism] really specifically solidified and put language for me and gave me a really wonderful framework for how I wanted to approach my time at Oxbow, which is to just really listen to the surroundings and figure out what I can actually do here. And just reading through the Zen practices, the almost natural conclusion of that line of thought is this practice that's dedicated entirely to not making any discoveries. You're just trying to exist in the most basic sense of that, and the most purest sense of that, and the most expansive sense of that."

After his residency at Ox-Bow, Paul looks forward to returning to Pittsburgh where he will be moving to a new home and, hopefully, turning one of the rooms into a studio.

Influenced by Zen Buddhism, Paul has been experimenting with new ways of mark-making using Sumi ink.

With access to Ox-Bow’s Ceramics Studio, Paul ventured out of his comfort zone to explore other mediums like clay.

Paul attends a faculty lecture at Ox-Bow.

Paul Peng (b. 1994, Allentown, PA; pronounced “Pung”) is a contemporary artist who makes non-representational and cartoon drawings based on what it feels like to be a real person. This feeling comes from his adolescent experience witnessing and participating in an internet-based folk art tradition of sad closeted teens drawing pictures of themselves as anthropomorphic fantasy creatures, anime monster boys, and other cartoons of things that they are not. Paul is currently interested in how his art practice directly extends this tradition: how his work, born from queer teen anguish, exists under conditions where that anguish used to exist but no longer does. Paul graduated from Carnegie Mellon University in 2017 with a BCSA in Computer Science and Art, and has also studied classical drawing at Barnstone Studios in Coplay, PA (2013) and experimental drawing right here at Ox-Bow (2017). Alongside his art practice, Paul is a roller coaster enthusiast, a programming language design hobbyist, and an aspiring long-distance runner and competitive DanceDanceRevolution player. He currently lives and works from Pittsburgh, PA.

Photos by Natia Ser (Summer Fellow, 2023).

All Fired Up

Henry J.H. Crissman and Virginia Torrence share about the importance of kindling community and their passion for wood-fired ceramics.

At the start of my call with artists Virginia Torrence and Henry Crissman, they introduced me to the coffee mugs from which they sipped. Torrence favored a brightly freckled mug that couldn’t have held more than eight ounces. Crissman showcased a more sizable and earth-toned mug with a rock sticking out of its handle. As they shared about each vessel and bantered together, I quickly came to understand the personal connection they share with such objects as well as each other. Given their background, such familiarity shouldn’t come as a surprise…

The artists sit on a potters wheel. Each holds a dog in their lap. Photo courtesy of the artists.

The Early Years of the Artists

Virginia Torrence and Henry Crismass share an extensive history with both pottery and each other. In their early teenage years, Crissman and Torrence attended artist markets together around Michigan. Crissman would bring along his potter's wheel and perform live throwings (often in exchange for their booth fee to be waived) while Torrence managed the sales. Eventually they set up their first studio in Crissman’s family barn. They shared the space with a pony who was particularly winded in one direction and namesaked the studio Farting Pony Pottery in honor of their studio mate. This would only serve as the beginning of their endeavors in pottery.

Both artists attended the College for Creative Studies in undergrad, which led them to fellowships at Ox-Bow in 2010 and 2012. Ox-Bow was celebrating 100 years during Crissman’s summer. In one story he recounted the timely return of the bell, which had been allegedly stolen years before from campus and serendipitously returned for its centennial anniversary. Crissman also admitted to rocking a mullet all summer long. Torrence cited her summer in 2012 as “the best summer of [her] life.” Her work placement stationed her in maintenance alongside John Rossi, whom she showered with no shortage of praise. “I made such incredible friends that I still have today and it was so formative for me,” Torrence said. Crissman also reveled in the impact of his summer surrounded by artists such as Theaster Gates (Visiting Artist) and Sterling Ruby (Faculty), citing that “Ox-Bow gave [him] the tools to imagine how [his] practice could be.”

Woodfire & Community

Woodfired ceramics entered Torrence and Crissman’s lives in a less than typical fashion. In college they were assigned to build a kiln for woodfiring, a ceramics process they had never before tried. The assignment proved influential, inspiring Crissman to ask the department for the scrap parts of the retired kilns. After building his own kiln, Crissman fixed it to a trailer and toured the country in a community initiative seeking to bring access to pottery. Ceramics' potential for creating community was something Torrence and Crissman both prized. When they left Eastern Michigan to go to graduate school at Alfred University, they knew they’d eventually return to the Detroit area. “Our community was here already,” Torrence explained, adding, “We’re thankful to be here. We have such an incredible group of people that orbit around [Detroit].”

The project Torrence and Crissman returned to their home state to start is now the Ceramics School in Hamtramck. Part community arts school, part artist residency program, the school grew from what others had modeled to Crissman and Torrence in undergrad. “The artists that we admired when we were in undergrad were people that were making these broader community practices,” Crissman said.

Crissman and Torrence give an Artist Lecture in the tent on the meadow. Photo by Dominique Muñoz (Summer Fellow, 2024).

Returning to Ox-Bow

At Ox-Bow they saw a similar spirit at work. After each of their seasons there, they started dreaming of ways to return. During two of the summers following Crissman’s fellowship, he visited briefly to assist with a woodfire course taught by Israel Davis. But in 2023, their dream was realized more concretely. Crissman and Torrence officially returned to teach their first course at Ox-Bow during one of the seven summer sessions. The communal nature of the woodfiring course they led captured the attention of their students and those around campus. It wasn’t long before someone proposed the couple return for a community-based workshop that fall. “Something that feels really important and special to me is how little it's changed,,” Torrence said, adding that in particular she’s grateful for the communities that are nurtured on campus.

Their fall workshop in particular embraced and fostered the tight-knit community that so many Ox-Bow attendees experience. For ten days, participating artists shared hours upon hours in the studio together. The loading of the kiln has become a particularly important experience in their course and workshop. “We load the kiln and then we sing it songs… fire themed songs,” Crissman explained. “And transformation themed,” Torrence chimed in. The two have dubbed this night-long tradition Kiln-aoke. Between their festive traditions and enthusiasm for introducing newcomers to the art of woodfiring, it’s no wonder why participants have raved about their experiences with Torrence and Crissman. Those interested in learning about the art of woodfiring can sign up for their upcoming workshop, which will run October 22–November 2, 2024.

Self-portrait pots by Crissman and Torrence. Photo courtesy of the artists.

Virginia Rose Torrence (She/her) co-owns, operates and teaches at Ceramics School, a community ceramics studio and Artist Residency in Hamtramck, Michigan. Virginia’s art practice is sometimes making pottery, and sometimes making sculptures. She received her BFA in Craft/Ceramics from the College for Creative Studies (Detroit, Michigan) in 2013 and her MFA in Ceramics from Alfred University (Alfred, New York) in 2016. Virginia lives and makes art in Hamtramck, MI with her partner and co-teacher Henry Crissman, two dogs, two cats and a parakeet.

Henry James Haver Crissman earned a BFA in Craft from the College for Creative Studies in Detroit, MI in 2012, and a MFA in Ceramics at Alfred University in Alfred, New York in 2015. He now lives and works in Hamtramck, Michigan where he and his wife and fellow artist, Virginia Rose Torrence, founded and co-direct Ceramics School, a community ceramics studio and artist residency. He regards teaching as an integral aspect of his creative practice, and in addition to teaching at Ceramics School, he is currently an adjunct professor in the Studio Art and Craft Department at the College for Creative Studies in Detroit, Michigan.

This article was written by Shanley Poole, Engagement Liaison & Storyteller. The article was originally published in our Experience Ox-Bow 2024 Catalog.

Carosel photos courtesy of the artists.

Visionary Awardee: John Rossi

John Rossi’s 30-Year Legacy of Luminosity at Ox-Bow

Looking back, my first memory of John Rossi is a fitting one. I initially met him during April of 2021 when I came to campus for a final round interview for what would become my first job at Ox-Bow. My encounter was brief. He stood atop a ladder in the old inn fixing an antique chandelier in place. He gave me a friendly hello, I returned it, and that was that. My first Rossi sighting.

Two years later, I’m walking around campus with John. It’s a cool sunny day in May. The sky shines blue, but only through a filtered haze of clouds. John wears, as he does most days, a plaid flannel. His hat, like most of his hats, is sun faded. I own the same one he does, a forest green in baseball style, but his has paled several shades from mine.

John Rossi, wearing a sun-faded baseball cap, tends to the canoe stand on campus alongside Nate Skiffington, Assistant Facilities Manager. Photo by Dominique Muñoz (Summer Fellow, 2024).

John has several titles here at Ox-Bow, from his official role as Facilities Manager to the cheeky title of Pricker Daddy. Today I’m here to learn why he’s earned one of his most infamous titles: The Light Wizard.

From the moment one walks onto campus there are lights to guide your way. If you arrive after dusk or before dawn, you’ll be greeted first by strings of pixie lights. In every room, you’ll find lamps intentionally selected and slightly altered to meet the aesthetics of our unique building environments. And of course, the tent under which Friday night dance parties take place has been adorned with the perfect mood lighting to fit the revolving party themes. 

John Rossi stands behind a work bench in The Rob (the campus’s maintenance building). Photo by Dominique Muñoz (Summer Fellow, 2024).

John isn’t alone in his adoration of lighting on campus. He notes that what originally drew impressionist painters was the natural light of the area. “It reminded them of France,” he said. For this reason, he’s partial to using warm lighting in the cabins and on exterior buildings. Daylight bulbs he finds too disruptive in how it attempts to imitate the sun. “For most of history, artificial light was warm,” he said, noting how its hue mimicked hearths and candles. Using these warmer bulbs rather than cool lighting helps John’s work imitate what it might’ve once been like to spend time on campus during the days when things were illuminated by gaslights and lanterns.

Of course, some of John’s work is much more bold, not so rooted in imitating nature. When he invites me into his studio space, many of the works in progress are lamps and lights. Just yesterday he spent the evening at the metals studio to work with the plasma cutter. Over the course of the night, he transformed various tin cans into lamp shades. This morning, one of the pieces hangs afresh over the entrance of the studio. The tin can lantern is complemented by a carnival chandelier, purple and orange, equal parts normcore and fabulous. Above that sits a string of blue and purple Christmas lights. Fitting, as that’s where John’s love of lights started.

John Rossi stands outside his studio and looks down at a pencil. Photo by Dominique Muñoz (Summer Fellow, 2024).

When I ask him about this passion’s origin story, John doesn’t hesitate: “Probably around age four or five,” aka the age that memory begins. For all we know, John’s love of lights could’ve been at first sight. He recalled playing with lights as a kid. He’d sneak into the closet where his parents stored the Christmas lights, stage them, then hide the lights away before his parents could find out. Eventually he took on the role of hanging the Christmas lights at both his parents’ and grandmother’s houses. Little did young John know, eventually he’d find a place where this passion would be prized and celebrated.

(left) A chandelier selected by John Rossi for the Talmadge cabin. Photo by Clare Britt. (right) Fairy lights in the trees. Photo by Jamie Kelter Davis.

John takes me to the tent on the meadow, underneath which he’s set up a variety of paper lanterns shaped as stars. He altered them himself to accommodate bigger sockets. While under the tent, John gives me a briefing on the physics of lights, explaining why LEDS produce a stronger spectrum than incandescents, which often fail to produce bright purples and blues. As he throws around jargon like diodes, prisms, and cones it becomes clear to me just how deep John’s knowledge of light goes. 

Across campus, other cleverly engineered solutions abound, all the work of Rossi. Some of these include collaborations with other studios: a hand blown glass vase that ensconces its light bulb and a full string of plasma-cut tin cans hanging behind The Rob (facilities headquarters). It can be said without exaggeration that in every building and even along pathways, John’s expertise and artistic touch literally light the way.

John Rossi stands in front of the floral, teal doors of his studio. Photo by Dominique Muñoz (Summer Fellow, 2024).

This article was written by Shanley Poole and was based on interviews conducted with John Rossi in 2023. Banner photo by Dominique Muñoz (Summer Fellow, 2024).

Visionary Awardee: Larry Gammons

A Lifelong Legacy of Community Impact in Saugatuck-Douglas

Born and raised in Big Rapids, Michigan, Larry Gammons spent many summers vacationing on Lake Michigan’s shoreline. He and his partner Carl Jennings especially enjoyed Saugatuck-Douglas and would take multiple trips with their boat to the quaint town during the sixties. In conversation, Gammons fondly recalled his visits to the Blue Tempo, a popular (and perhaps West Michigan’s first) gay bar, where his eventual partner worked as a bartender in the sixties. In 1976, the venue was destroyed by a fire. For several years after, its absence was felt by community members like Gammons and Jennings. Rather than sit idly by, the couple began scheming. The dream settled into an epic vision for a gay resort, which would feature lodging, a bar, restaurant, pool, and lots of parties.

Manifesting this ambitious dream proved no easy task. Though real estate options weren’t lacking in Saugatuck, local government support for a gay resort certainly was. Multiple times the city of Saugatuck denied the couple’s request to secure a liquor license. “​​They just kept turning us down and turning us down because they found out it was going to be gay,” Gammons confided. After yet another city meeting in which the majority voted against the resort, Gammons and Jennings went for a drive through Douglas to take their mind off the latest rejection. It was on that ride that the couple spotted the shuttered Amity Motel. The instant they set eyes on it they thought, “that could be a great resort!” From there, things finally began to fall into place. After Gammons and Jennings made an offer on the property, the Douglas council members approved its use at the next town meeting. In 1981, their resort finally opened.

Larry sits on a bench in the Pride Celebration Garden. Photo by Dominique Muñoz (Summer Fellow, 2024).

For nearly two decades, Gammons and Jennings oversaw what is still known as The Dunes Resort. Their vision was brought to life, including the restaurant at which Jennings served as the head chef. After buying the resort the couple became full-time residents in Saugatuck-Douglas. While the dream may have finally been realized, Gammons expressed that those first years held a number of challenges. In an article with the Holland Sentinel in 2019, Gammons told reporters, “We had bomb threats and Ku Klux Klan threats… just all kinds of things.” In striking contrast, the community today has come to embrace its reputation as one of Michigan’s queerest cities. 

Gammons hypothesizes that many young folks in the area might have trouble comprehending what the atmosphere was like forty years ago. It was for this reason that Gammons created the Pride Celebration Garden in downtown Douglas following Jennings’s passing in 2019. He wanted to build a memorial to commemorate community members as well as his partner. He also hopes the garden will serve as a reminder that the culture of Saugatuck-Douglas is not one to take for granted, nor has it always existed.

In 1999, Gammons and Jennings made the difficult decision to sell the Dunes Resort. “When you create something it’s hard to give it up,” Gammons explained, but he and Jennings knew it was the right time to pass it on. While the restaurant has since closed under new ownership, the Dunes still hosts a bar, pool, and an abundance of parties. After selling the Dunes, Gammons found new ways to engage with the Saugatuck-Douglas community. He and Jennings co-founded the organization West Shore Aware, which provides financial support to non-profits and awards scholarships to LGBTQ+ individuals and allies. Over two decades, the organization has given away over $1.4 million in scholarships and awards, all of which have gone to the benefit of the West Michigan community.

Larry amidst the flowers in the Pride Celebration Garden. Photo by Dominique Muñoz (Summer Fellow, 2024).

It was Arthur Frederick, former owner of the Button Gallery, that eventually invited Gammons to an Ox-Bow fundraiser. “That was 43 years ago… we had our heart in Ox-Bow from day one,” said Gammons. From the start, he and Jennings recognized the instrumental role that Ox-Bow played in the history of the area. Eventually, Gammons even served as a local board member.

At this year’s Field of Vision: Summer of Love benefit, Ox-Bow recognizes Larry Gamons with the Community Honoree Visionary Award. Gammon’s impact and legacy in Saugatuck-Douglas—from the Dunes Resort to the Pride Celebration Garden, from West Shore Aware to his service at Ox-Bow—spans decades and will surely continue to do so. We look forward to honoring Gammons at the event. Tickets are on sale now and can be purchased through June 24, 2024.

Lead support for Field of Vision: Summer of Love is provided by the Holly Palmer Foundation.

Summer Fellow: Christen Baker

Exploring the path less traveled with Christen Baker (Summer Fellow, 2023).

During Christen Baker’s sophomore year of college, she enrolled in her first and only studio glass course of her undergraduate years. That semester would ultimately go on to shape the path Baker pursues today. After graduating from the Kansas City Art Institute with a BFA in Ceramics, she enrolled in an MFA program at Tyler School of Art & Architecture to study glass. With almost no hotshop experience, she was a unique candidate. “Most people don’t want to try to learn new, crazy skills when they’re entering grad school because you’re already doing a lot,” Baker said. But she was invigorated by the prospect of pursuing a new specialty.

Baker describes her transition to glasswork as “largely trial and error.” But don’t let her humble words fool you into overlooking her alluring and thoughtful work. While glass often serves as a focal point, she doesn’t let her new degree define her. Instead, she identifies as a multidisciplinary artist in which “[glass] grounds the work.” Alongside glass, she has brought photography and printmaking into her practice. During her time at Ox-Bow, Baker spent her spare hours in the Works on Paper Studio, where she learned how to use the risograph.

Christen Baker at work in the studio. Photo by Jamie Kelter Davis.

Baker also leaned into research after discovering the ongoing environmental challenges facing Saugatuck. During the summer of 2023, numerous articles, demonstrations, and yard signs were erected in opposition to a marina that would be built on the Lake Michigan shoreline. In a city that prides itself on its unmarred lakeshore, many Saugatuck citizens were determined to raise hell. Their efforts garnered the attention of Baker, and her interest inevitably began to influence her work. 

At the group exhibition “The Hole” in Ox-Bow’s Betsy Gallery, Baker contributed three distinct pieces to the exhibition. The first of the pieces, a stack of risographs, revealed two-tone images of the dunes. Next to the pile was a note to viewers: “Take one image to transform this landscape.” Elevated less than two feet off the ground was a trail of glass vessels, filled with sand, and embedded with stake flags that a surveyor might use to map a property. The last piece featured an anchor tethered to a rope. Far from subtle and paying tactful homage to the Saugatuck community’s voices, Baker’s works portrayed the imminent danger the environment faced. In February 2024, the Michigan Department of Environment, Great Lakes, and Energy denied a permit to the developers seeking to build a marina. To the relief of many Saugatuck citizens, this decision has ensured the protection of the lakeshore

Another of the most fruitfall aspects of Baker’s time on campus was the friendship that blossomed between Baker and Glass Studio Assistant, Pricilla Lo. “We both just hit it off immediately,” Baker said, adding that the common threads between their work allowed them to learn a great deal from each other.

As summer drew to a close, Baker was open about her hopes to return to campus. True to her ambitious tendencies, she wasted no time in making that dream a reality. Alongside friend and fellow glass artist, Pricilla Lo, Baker will return to Ox-Bow to teach Glass Multiples. Baker’s multidisciplinary approach will be well utilized as one of the course’s instructors. With much of the course centered in mold making, Baker will tap into her ceramic experiences that often centered around mold making. Prospective students can read more about this course in our 2024 Summer Course Catalog.

In the meantime, Baker—in collaboration with Ox-Bow Alumni Victoria Ahmadizadeh Melendez—is finishing a residency with She Bends and the Museum of Craft and Design. The residency will culminate with the exhibition Neon as Soulcraft at the Museum of Craft and Design in San Francisco.

Christen Baker and Pricilla Kar Yee Lo at work together in the studio. Photo by Jamie Kelter Davis.

Christen Baker is a multidisciplinary artist whose work explores the complex relationship between attention, desire, and economies that emerge from it. Baker earned a BFA in Ceramics from the Kansas City Art Institute and a MFA from Tyler School of Art and Architecture. She currently lives and works in Philadelphia, where she continues to explore the geographies of public spaces and objects, real and imagined.

This article was written by Shanley Poole and was based on interviews conducted with Christen Baker in August 2023 and May 2024.

Carousel images of The Hole Exhibition by Natia Ser (Summer Fellow, 2023).