For the Love of Landscapes

For the Love of Landscapes: An Interview with David Baker

“There’s a magical place when painting the surface of the water,” David Baker says, “where [the surface] switches from mirror to window.” This magic trick was something he spent hours trying to capture during his early years at Ox-Bow. He’d venture out with a canoe on the lagoon, Baker donning a wide brimmed hat to shield himself from the sun and toting a set of paints. While the process might sound romantic, Baker emphasized it was pretty grueling work. 

Baker first came to Ox-Bow in the 90’s and reminisced that in those days you could get a cold beer from the campus vending machine. At the time, he mostly rendered abstract oil paintings, the kinds of work that might draw Rothko to mind. All that began to change at Ox-Bow. As if inspired by the school’s founders, he suddenly found himself driven to landscapes, a style he’d previously written off as a “tired genre.”

Rivulet, David Baker, 2020, charcoal, 11 x 14 inches. Image courtesy of the artist.

In the years beyond his first summer at Ox-Bow, Baker continued to expand his practice. He ventured into watercolor, motivated by a class he was to teach at South West Michigan College. Baker eventually brought his professorial skills to campus. He taught his first core course Watercolor in 2000 and continued to do so through 2008. In 2010, he switched gears and crafted his first Art on the Meadow Workshop. Since then, he’s taught community members everything from watercolor to charcoal.  

This year, Baker looks forward to introducing students to some of his favorite subject material: the landscape of Ox-Bow, of course. Those taking Ox-Bow in Black and White can anticipate field studies of dunes and lagoons, while those in Painting with Oil Pastel can look forward to studying the arboreal ghosts and muses of Ox-Bow in the form of felled and still standing trees across campus. And all can count on spending time with an instructor who not only knows all the prime views, but will also teach you to capture them on canvas. 

David Baker holds a painting under a tent in an Art on the Meadow workshop. Two students sit at a folding table behind him. Photo by Ian Solomon (Summer Fellow, 2023).

David Baker (he/him) is a visual artist who specializes in poetic landscape painting, much of it done en plein air. Baker is a lifelong artist and teacher who has taught at Ox-Bow School of Art since 2000. He is represented by Rising Phoenix Gallery in Michigan City. 

This article was written by Shanley Poole and was initially published in the 2022 Experience Ox-Bow Catalog.

Rooted in Ox-Bow

Operations Manager Aaron Cook shares his own history of life lived on Ox-Bow’s campus.

Aaron Cook first met Ox-Bow in the summer of 2011. What he remembers most about his initial visit was the way the summer light hit the campus. “The light was at its best… so warm and so inviting,” Aaron said. He initially came as a guest, visiting a friend who had landed a fellowship at Ox-Bow, but would eventually come to inhabit one of the most critical roles on Ox-Bow’s campus: Operations Manager. He described his connection with the campus as “an instant thing.” After encountering the campus, trails, and even a Friday night costume party, Aaron knew he’d be back someday. In the summer of 2015, he proved himself right when he returned as a volunteer. By that fall he became an official employee of “the heart of Ox-Bow,” a place more commonly known as the kitchen. 

Aaron Cook stands next to John Rossi in front of the freshly painted Tuck Shop while sun beams shine through the clouds. Photo by Claire Arctander.

Aaron acknowledged that it was the land and campus that initially drew him here, but it’s the people that have kept him here. There was one name in particular that Aaron gave credit… John Rossi. In 2016, Aaron assumed the role as Operations Manager, where he began working alongside John. Both mentor and friend, John has taught Aaron how to “hold the campus up.” John, who has been a part of Ox-Bow since the 90’s, works as Ox-Bow’s Facilities Manager–though Aaron proposed a more fitting title would be Master of Infrastructure and Magic. I asked Aaron if he could share any particularly memorable occasions with John and he recalled the infamous flood of 2019, citing that this crisis–which could’ve closed the campus down for the summer–was instead averted because of John’s clever work. “He’s the brains and the master of Ox-Bow,” Aaron said, “He’s one of the reasons I keep coming back.”

Like many of Ox-Bow’s staff members, Aaron doesn’t work on campus year around. In his words, Ox-Bow is a place that stays “in tune with the seasons.” During the winter and early spring, campus life and programming slows down. “Giving the natural landscape its credit is pretty important,” Aaron noted, elaborating that the pause allows staff to return to the campus with a renewed vibrancy year after year.

Another sense of renewal comes from the Tallmadge woods, which Aaron fondly calls “the perfect escape from the perfect escape.” Part of his job description includes maintaining the trails, but he has also spent a good amount of time walking the Crow’s Nest Trail for leisure. It’s clear that Aaron’s care for the natural landscape has only grown over the years. Shortly after the invasive hemlock wooly adelgid (HWA) was discovered near campus, Aaron set out with a crew to inspect the trees surrounding Ox-Bow. Spotting HWA takes a meticulous eye because of their small size, but Aaron vigilantly managed to spot the bugs on the underside of a hemlock tree. Once he found the first pocket, the crew noticed a number throughout the area. The monumental moment has led to fundraising efforts, which aim to combat the invasive species that preys upon the Tallmadge Wood’s dense collection of hemlock trees. Aaron noted that focusing on these efforts is a crucial part of maintaining the spirit of Ox-Bow.

Aaron holds his dog Juniper at the Crow’s Nest Trailhead as he stands between John Rossi and Mac Akin. Photo by Claire Arctander.

Throughout his time on campus, Aaron has worked in facilities, housekeeping, and the kitchen. These experiences have allowed him to intersect with almost every inch of campus. When asked if he had a favorite building on campus, he didn’t hesitate when he answered, “The Rob.” As the maintenance shop on campus, The Rob “is an amoeba of a place that is always changing and accepts anything.” Likewise, it is a place that’s always giving. A regular afternoon in the Rob for Aaron consists of offering advice and loaning tools to all who wander in. In many ways, it serves as a reflection of the entire campus. “Outside of the physical attributes, which we can’t take much credit for…” Aaron credits that the chemistry between the guests and residents of Ox-Bow is really what fuels the campus. Amidst meals, artist lectures, and even volleyball games, the traditional barriers dissolve and allow students, staff, and faculty to eat, learn, and play alongside one another. Simply put, there’s no other place like it. Aaron describes Ox-Bow as “its own community” and anyone who spends enough time on campus knows that he is one of its key forces. Aaron goes beyond just tending to Ox-Bow’s facilities, he carries traditions on, and lifts the community itself up.

This article was written by Shanley Poole and was initially published in the 2022 Experience Ox-Bow Catalog. The banner photo was taken by Jamie Kelter Davis.

Q&A with Dove Hornbuckle

In this Q&A from 2021, Ceramics Studio Manager Dove Hornbuckle shares about their intuitive and spiritual relationship with clay and the oasis of Ox-Bow.

1. Tell us about yourself.

To me, there feels like an infinite amount of ways to describe oneself as there are so many human perspectives to observe oneself from: it could be within a depression, or ego-based, nostalgic, full of pity or passion, self-lacerating or affirming, with great love and humility, etc.

I feel very empathetic to the roles of ‘maker’ and ‘artist’ - to me, they are romantic and robust, somewhat direct and full of self invention.

I aspire to be a maker and artist of my full potential, someone who has the courage and self knowledge to continue forward, despite the infinite varieties of ordinary human traumas and hiccups that greet us, and knock us slightly off course.

I was born in New York City, my deep rooted home, as it was there that I first relished in my queerness and authentic optimism as a young adult. I would like to travel broadly and know many many people, and feel at home more so in the greater pasture of our connected planet.

I first came to Ox-Bow as a summer fellow in 2018 after I graduated from Rhode Island School of Design’s (RISD) master’s program in ceramics. Finding home, queer connectivity, and artistic fulfillment at Ox-Bow has been one of the greatest gifts of my adult life.

Dove Hornbuckle, Self-Control, 2020, stoneware and glaze, 21 L x 13 W x 18 H inches,

 2: Describe Your Own Art Practice

I think of my art practice as putting ideas to form. It’s an intuitive, spiritual, mysterious, evasive and highly rewarding mutable experience. It is also a desire for communication. The process of creating art is a pathway to truly know myself. To do this I must be curious, open and present for the innumerable changes of self that occur throughout my life. In my thinking I continually come back to the Buddhist concept of Anattā, essentially that there is no permanent Self.

Making art is like creating a time capsule, the ‘object’ encapsulates the subtle nuances and autobiographical elements of myself when I make the work. I witness myself through the making of art. I can utilize the artworks that I create as a source of reflection to think back upon, remember, and reevaluate who I was when I made the work. Often, I have much more compassion for who I was in hindsight, which differs from the ordinary narratives of self-criticism that I have for who I am in the present.

This brings me further into a pathway of understanding myself also as a human ‘object’ of infinite relativity and thus I can become anything, transform myself infinitely, and can choose to take on more gentler, more affirming, more loving, more proactive aspects of my Being. If I didn’t love myself a moment ago then I can accept and acknowledge that. That moment has passed, and there is no going back, and that moment will never happen again. So, I am already moving forward and in that procession can choose to change, with informed intention and training of the mind, in order to bring new realizations into the future of my heart-centered wellbeing.

3: When and how did you first come to know Ox-Bow?

While I was finishing my undergraduate degree at SAIC I often heard fellow student’s experiences of a mysterious place called Ox-Bow. They seemingly came back from a separate planet, somewhere full of messy fun and connectivity. It wasn’t until I finished my graduate degree at RISD in 2018 that I did further research and applied to be a resident of Ox-Bow’s summer fellowship. I perceived the opportunity as this perfect post-degree oasis to recenter my practice: that Ox-Bow could be a space to rest and to engage with a new community of artists whom I could learn from and collaborate with as we experienced a magical summer together - and it was.

My fellowship summer truly changed the course of my life and intensely reinvigorated my working practice as an artist. This was, in part, due to the immense and multifaceted social atmospheres at Ox-Bow. Upon arriving I was immediately surrounded by the other fellows who had come from a similar background as a student, or recent alumni of an art school. I remember my first days at Ox-Bow vividly, particularly the enthusiastic invitations to celebrations, parties, gatherings, the sharing of zodiac signs, etc. It was such a joy-oriented and eventful summer that I knew I had to stay after my summer fellowship had ended.

(left to right) Dove Hornbuckle, Claire Arctander, and Eric May stand on stage at the 2023 Field of Vision Benefit as John Rossi DJs in the background. Image courtesy of Claire Arctander.

 4: Did you always work in ceramics?

I haphazardly stumbled into ceramics as an undergraduate student at SAIC, completely unaware that the medium would direct the course of my making so intensely over the next several years and into the present day. As an undergrad, I found that other students had experiences with ceramics as children or in high school, but this was not my experience, and, to my advantage, I found that I did not have many preconceived ideas of my abilities with ceramics when I first encountered the material. I found ceramics to be a refreshing and less neurotic connection to my previous work with painting, it gave me the ability to work with color in the 3d, to make color stand up. I felt less precious with clay, and more able to work in modular forms, finding curiosity and joy with its plasticity and unpredictability. Clay is a time-based material, and there is always a balancing act of artistic agency and material limitations.                                       

The mutable materiality of clay and particularly the glazing process creates an amicable union between color and form; there is a transfiguration within the firing process, and they essentially become the same thing. I continue to find myself opening warm kilns after they have been fired to become mesmerized and occasionally laugh at the results. I am in love with this connection between body, material, form, and color.

5. Tell us what being a studio manager at Ox-Bow means to you

Being the ceramics studio manager, to me, means that I take on the responsibility and service of a community member who acknowledges the importance of their cohabitational role at Ox-Bow. Many students, artists, instructors, mentors, fellows and staff members benefit from the ceramics studio and from its functional and operational wellbeing. I find this, at times, intimidating but mostly thrilling because I am actively embodying and participating within a role that allows for the development and pleasures and joys of making art.

Dove Hornbuckle (they/them) is an interdisciplinary artist working within ceramic sculpture, queer community organizing, and radical faeries traditions. Previous solo exhibitions have been held in Chicago, at Goldfinch Gallery, To Hear a Call, To Answer a Call, 2023 and Roots & Culture, Earth, My Likeness, 2020. Past awards include a teaching fellowship from the Vermont Studio Center in 2020, and the LeRoy Neiman Fellowship from the Ox-Bow School of Art in 2018. Past teaching roles have been held as Adjunct Professor in the Art and Art History department at Hope College, lecturer at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in the Ceramics Department, and instructor at the Ox-Bow School of Art & Artists’ Residency. They have served as the Ceramics Studio Manager at the Ox-Bow School of Art & Artists’ Residency since 2019.

This interview was conducted by Ashley Freeby and originally published in Experience Ox-Bow 2021.

Header image features: Sleep, 2020, concrete and steel, 48 L, x 9 W x 46 H inches

Alumni in the News

The start of 2024 has been an exciting season for many Ox-Bow Artists and Alumni. Awards were received, interviews published, and exhibitions opened! Join us as we celebrate the following Alumni’s accomplishments:

(left) Headshot of jina valentine. Image courtesy of the artist. (right) Kelly Lloyd giving an artist talk at Ox-Bow. Photo by Hai-Wen Lin (Summer Fellow, 2022)

jina valentine & Kelly Lloyd

An interview conducted by Lloyd, featuring valentine was published in the Winter 2024 issue of BOMB Magazine.

The Ox-Bow Connection:

jina valentine has taught during three of Ox-Bow’s sessions since 2019, some of which she directly discusses in the interview with Kelly Lloyd.

Kelly Lloyd has spent time at Ox-Bow as both an Artist-in-Residence (2015) and as Faculty, leading the courses HAIR! HAIR! HAIR! (2017) and Party as Form (co-taught with Alex Chitty, 2022).

(left) Headshot of Salvador Jiménez-Flores. (right) Salvador Jiménez-Flores, A Hand Gesture to Systemic Racism: Al que le quede el saco que se lo ponga, 2022, earthenware, stoneware, black stain, underglaze, glaze, wood, steel, graphite, and latex paint, 96 x 60 x 20 inches. Images courtesy of the artist.

Salvador Jiménez-Flores

A feature published in New City Art celebrates Jiménez-Flores’s exhibition eagle, serpiente, nopalli.

The Ox-Bow Connection:

Jiménez-Flores first joined Ox-Bow as a TA for a screenprinting course in 2013 and has since taught at Ox-Bow as one of our Core Faculty in 2014, 2017, 2019, and 2020. During his sessions on campus he has taught everything from woodfire to a course on flora, fauna, and narrative.

Caption: (left) Helen Lee, Alphabit, 2018, glass murrine, low-iron float glass, stainless steel, aluminum, acrylic, LEDs, 36 x 18 x 48 inches; (right) Tammie Rubin, Unknow Ritual Mask, 2023, red stoneware, underglaze, 33h x 18w x 18w inches. Images courtesy of the artists.

Helen Lee (Faculty 2019) and Tammie Rubin (Visiting Artist 2024)

Appointed 2024 USA Fellows.

The Ox-Bow Connection: 

Helen Lee, a glass artist based in Madison, Wisconsin, taught A Body in Motion during the Summer of 2019 at Ox-Bow. 

Tammie Rubin will join us on campus this summer as a Visiting Artist. 

Headshot of Cate O’Connell-Richards. Image courtesy of the artist.

Cate O'Connell-Richards (Instructor 2023-2024) 

Recipient of the 2024 Craft Research Fund Project Grant at Center for Craft

The Ox-Bow Connection

O’Connell-Richards first came to campus as an Art on the Meadow Instructor in 2023. They return to teach the same workshop Broom Making Basics, June 4–7, 2024.

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Ox-Bow is proud to platform a range of voices, ideas, and perspectives through its Efroymson Family Fund Visiting Artist Program. Every week of summer session, a new artist comes to campus to participate in the community, most notably through an artist talk open to everyone on campus.

From the Studio to the Table

Corey Pemberton brings a new glassblowing course to campus, including a dinner from a fairytale.

During one of my earliest visits to Ox-Bow, I stepped into the Burke Glass Studio and experienced the art of glass blowing for the first time. I’d never seen the likes of it: the furnace, molten glass, and sheer precision of the artists had me rapt. That studio in particular still holds a special place in my heart, and I often seek out reasons to venture over there. The summer of 2022 was no exception.

Eager for an excuse to return to my favorite spot on campus, I volunteered to scope out the new glass course being offered. Nix, one of the students, kindly walked me over to the studio one morning and toured me around the space, re-introducing me to the furnace, kiln, and benches, as well as a collection of completed glasswork. Soon the other students arrived. For most of them, this was their first time working with glass. Corey Pemberton introduced himself, shaking my hand after he set down a bag full of trout, asparagus, cherries, and garlic shoots. He and a few of his students had just returned from the local farmers’ market.

Corey Pemberton showcases mushrooms fresh from the Farmer’s Market. Photo by Yeji Kim (Summer Fellow, 2022)

“Anyone have a plate for asparagus?” Pemberton asked his students. This is not the typical question one expects from their professor, but this was not a typical intro-to-glass course. One by one, students held up wares in response to Pemberton’s oddly specific requests: water pitcher, trout platter, cherry bowl, charcuterie board, and even an asparagus plate. Fifteen minutes later they had found the proper vessels for their final evening on campus. Like many courses at Ox-Bow, the two week long session culminates in an exhibition. But this was no ordinary exhibition. This was a farm-to-studio-to-table dinner.

“This idea was inspired by the many meals I've shared with friends and fellow makers using hand made objects,” Corey later shared, “and by the intense bonds that are formed in a glassblowing studio.”

Despite having only one day left, the students had a decent amount of production ahead of them and they were about to learn one of the most essential lessons of the course.

“Alright, today we’re doing an assembly line of cups,” Pemberton announced. Throughout the week students have been working on their own pieces, start to finish. But Pemberton was about to shake things up. Each student would take a small portion of the process. The glass studio is typically a place where artists must collaborate with one another: opening and closing furnace doors, grabbing instruments, and shielding each others’ arms from the heat. That day’s collaborative exercise took their chemistry and trust to a new level.

The 2022 Studio Manager Yashu Reddy said it’s a helpful process to learn, one that’s not often taught. “This is what it looks like in a lot of professional settings,” Reddy noted. In Pemberton’s words, through this method “emphasis [is] placed less on the individual objects, and more on the overall experience, as well as the power of collaboration.” When a student asked about another’s role in the process, Pemberton stopped them. “You don’t need to worry about what she’s doing.” In this style of glass making, each student is tasked to mind their own business, to focus on one small step in the process.

A well dressed table sits in the center of the Burke Glass Studio. Photo courtesy of Corey Pemberton.

Pemberton’s teaching style exists in the liminal space between critique and camaraderie. One moment you might witness him offering much needed criticism, but minutes later you’ll catch him dancing across the studio floor when a student queues up a particularly catchy song. In essence, Pemberton fits right in with the spirit of Ox-Bow. Intense learning surrounded by intentional community. “It was the summer solstice and Beyonce had just dropped her single ‘Break my Soul’ and it was pulsing through the studio,” Pemberton recalled, “We worked hard, but still managed to take time to go to the beach, get root beer floats, and mingle with students from other [courses] around the bonfire.”

By the end of my afternoon with Pemberton and the students, they had produced an additional 15 cups. Outside of a few casualties throughout the process, it seemed each glass turned out better than the last.

Pemberton’s students gather around a stuffed table. One student raises a glass vessel. Photo by Yeji Kim (Summer Fellow, 2022)

The next day the table was set for a feast at 9:00 p.m., just in time for the evening light to cozy in behind the lagoon – and late enough for the woodland faeries to make an appearance. The students, Pemberton, and a lucky few guests arrived in flower crowns and flowy garments. Two weeks in the studio had led to this celebration, as had a long day in the kitchen for the Hospitality Department. Culinary Director Nicholas Jirasek and his team helped prepare fresh bread, grilled asparagus, herb-adorned trout, and two towering cakes for the event.

Pemberton noted that what first drew him to glass was “the obvious sensory experience” of the art form. The dinner cultivated a kindred ambiance. The rustle of trees, the twinkle of lantern lights, a curated tablescape, and the scents of the Ox-Bow’s kitchen – they all coalesced into a moment best described by the name of the dinner exhibition itself: Summer Solstice Woodland Fairie Realness.

True to the nature of art, especially glass, the intricacies of this course are never to be repeated. The same group of students will not gather together nor will the pieces they created ever find their way to the same table again. It was a fleeting and charmed moment. But that’s not to say that Corey Pemberton won’t be back. During the summer of 2023, Pemberton will teach a similar course; one that is sure to attract another bunch of one-of-a-kind artists who will create their own wares and feast. The course, aptly named “The Dinner Party,” is destined for enchantment – and you can bet that I’ll somehow find an excuse to pay that class a visit.

Corey Pemberton returns to Ox-Bow in Summer 2024 to teach “The Dinner Party,” Pemberton’s third installment of this event-based, studio-practice course at Ox-Bow.

Corey (American b. Reston, VA 1990) received his BFA from Virginia Commonwealth University in 2012. He has completed residencies at The Pittsburgh Glass Center (Pennsylvania), Bruket (Bodø, Norway), Alfred University (New York), as well as a Core Fellowship at the Penland School of Crafts (North Carolina). He has exhibited work at the Robert and Frances Fullerton Museum of Art (California), The Contemporary Museum of Art in Raleigh (North Carolina), and has work in the permanent collections of The Museum of Art and Design (New York), The Boston Museum of Fine Art (Massachuesetts), and The Chrysler Museum of Art (Virginia). Pemberton currently resides in Los Angeles, California where he splits his time between the nonprofit arts organization Crafting the Future, painting, and his glass practice. He strives to bring together people of all backgrounds and identities, breaking down stereotypes and building bridges; not only through his work with Crafting The Future but with his personal artistic practice as well.

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

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.

Then:

Family Camp began as a place where artists and their families could gather together at Ox-Bow and make art. Created by Patricia Pelletier and Phil Hanson (the Academic Director at the time), the tradition lasted for over 10 years from the late 80’s to the early 2000’s. The one week class usually took place at the start or end of the summer season. In the morning, adults would attend class, while James Brandess led a session for the kiddos. Afternoons were reserved for family time: hiking, canoeing, or trips to the beach. Each day ended with an evening of intergenerational artmaking. Often hosted in the paint studio, group work usually focused on the creation of masks and costumes. Culminating annually into a Friday performance and parade, everyone would don their work on the meadow at the week’s end. 

Artists and families included Karl and Lori Wirsum, Bobbi and Steve Meier, Richard and Cathy Pearlman, Rodney and Renee Carswell, Paul Solomon, Nancy and Tom Melvin, E.W. Ross, Gretchen Brown and Peter Kuttner, Carol Neiger, Ginny Sykes, George Liebert, and Blair Thomas. A variety of disciplines were represented amongst the artists present including muralists, performance artists, photographers, ceramicists, painters, and filmmakers. President of Ox-Bow’s Board and former Family Camp attendee, Steve Meier reflected, “Many of our children ended up in creative fields, I would credit [this] somewhat to this experience – seeing artists work with their children among such a diverse group of creative people was a truly unique experience.”

Two participants, a child and adult, don homemade masks at Family Camp. Photo courtesy of Board President Steve Meier.

Now: 

For many Michiganders, summertime means beach days or trips Up North, but for artist and educator Kim Meyers Baas it means the annual Ox-Bow getaway. Baas first came to Ox-Bow as a graduate student from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where she received her Masters of Art in Art Education. After graduating, she returned to Ox-Bow several times to take more courses. In the mid 2000’s the student became the teacher with a proposal to bring youth workshops to Ox-Bow.

A child and adult work on paintings at the edge of the woods on campus. Photo courtesy of Kim Meyers Baas.

Baas didn’t view the idea as revolutionary; in fact, it seemed all too natural. Kim noted, “There’s always been kids [at Ox-Bow]... it’s a kid’s dream!” The concept for youth workshops took inspiration from her mentor, the late E.W. Ross, a loyal member of the legendary Family Camps.

Over the years, Baas has created spaces for young artists throughout West Michigan, most recently creating a canvas quilt portrait of Patrick Lyoya in collaboration with students of East Kentwood High School. Lyoya was a Congolese refugee who was killed by a police officer in 2022; his death deeply grieved the community, especially impacting a number of Baas’s students who, like Lyoya, are also Congolese. Baas, alongside a number of students and a few other teachers, painted “Through the Veil,” which was then featured at the 2022 Art Prize Festival. “I feel like I’m part artist, part community organizer,” Baas said when reflecting on her work. “Amplifying voices is my true practice.”

A child sits in a tire swing with pencil and paper. Photo courtesy of Kim Meyers Baas.

After taking a pandemic-pause from Art on the Meadow workshops, Baas returned to Ox-Bow with a new plan of action in 2022: family workshops. The intergenerational aspect of Family Camp had long enticed Baas. In this new format, Baas facilitates various “ah-ha” moments with kids, while simultaneously encouraging parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles to work collaboratively with their young artists.

Over the course of the four workshops, participants explore ceramics, cyanotypes, and watercolor. Each workshop coincides with a natural theme: earth, sun, and water. The workshops’ environmental lens is very much intentional. Baas describes nature as a key part of “the Ox-Bow factor.” 
In 2023, Baas looks forward to bringing back family workshops. She plans to continue exploring art and the elements and is eager to introduce more families to the meadow. Returners might also notice a new addition to this year’s family series, entitled Seek, which Baas hinted will include a campus-wide treasure hunt. By popular demand, the Water workshop will be held twice this summer.

Headshot of Kim Meyers Baas, courtesy of the artist.

Kim Meyers Baas (she/her) is an arts educator who has worked in public and private settings in Michigan, Chicago, and on the Mexican/Texas border cultivating youth artists and community workers since 1992. Her teaching and art making practice focuses on exploring family identity, inequality, migration, cultural recognition, art and technology literacy, and media representation in marginalized communities.

Research and interviews were conducted by the article’s author, Shanley Poole, Engagement Liaison & Storyteller. The article was originally published in Experience Ox-Bow 2023.

Artist Interview: James Brandess

An interview with long-time Art on the Meadow Instructor James Brandess.

Tell us about yourself. Where did you grow up, and how did you come to Saugatuck?

I came to Saugatuck from Chicago, Illinois. I was a student at the Art Institute of Chicago. One day in late winter, I noticed on a bulletin board in the hallway of SAIC an ad for a summer maintenance position at a place called Ox-Bow in Saugatuck, Michigan. In return for three credits of independent study, we got room/board and a stipend.

Describe your own art practice. 

I am a painter. I work in oil paint and in watercolor. I often work from observation. Painting the landscape is a big part of my practice. When I was a student in Chicago, I often went into the environs of Chicago and painted the urban landscape. However, being at Ox-Bow provided the opportunity to work in a more rural environment. Ox-Bow was a place where I was able to leave my easel and my tables all set up. I was able to return to a painting day after day. At Ox-Bow, the changing light dictates the terms of the painting more so than the chaotic environment of a big city.

James Brandess, An Autumn Bouquet, 2022, Oil on Canvas, 34 x 30 inches

When and how did you first come to know Ox-Bow?

My first summer at Ox-Bow was 1987. I applied for the job that was listed in a flyer on the bulletin board outside what was then the second-floor figure-painting studio at the Columbus Drive Building at SAIC. E. W. Ross, who had just stepped into his role of administering Ox-Bow, hired me. Two board members brought me up to Ox-Bow before the season started and dropped me right in the middle of the empty campus. I spent summers at Ox-Bow until 1994, when I started my studio in downtown Saugatuck. 

How long have you taught workshops for our Art on the Meadow program, and what keeps bringing you back?

I taught my first classes at Ox-Bow in 1989. One class, which I started, was called “Art for Kids.” It cost five dollars. It ran from 10 till noon on Saturday mornings for kids ages six through 12. To this day, I remain friends with some of those families. Some of the kids now have kids. Also, through Ox-Bow, I started to teach older students. There wasn’t the Art in the Meadow as we know it today. Through outreach with Saugatuck, we taught classes in the gazebo in downtown Saugatuck, and also at places like Upward Bound at Hope College.

What keeps bringing me back is that teaching at Ox-Bow is another way to be part of the true spirit of the place.

James Brandess, Texas Bluebonnets, 2022, Oil on Canvas, 9 x 6 inches

You were a participant in an Art on the Meadow Workshop in 2020; tell us about that experience.

It was wonderful. I understand the process people go through to take a class, the indecision right up to the last moment, the hesitancy of, “Do I really want to commit to this? Can I afford the time?” Then, showing up and being absorbed and knowing that I am in exactly the right place at exactly the right time.

 How many paintings have you created based on the landscape of Ox-Bow?

Quite a few. The very first paintings I showed in my studio in downtown Saugatuck were Ox-Bow landscapes—in all seasons. Some of the early paintings done at Ox-Bow were portraits done in 1987.

You’ve been involved with Ox-Bow a long time; what is one of your fondest/funniest memories?

One of my fondest memories is turning off the lights in my studio in the Bogart late at night and following the dark path through the woods, past the Inn and up the hill to my cabin. I felt divinely guided. 

James Brandess maintains his studio in Saugatuck, where he also conducts painting workshops for adults and children. He is a graduate of the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

This interview was originally published in the 2021 issue of Experience Ox-Bow.

Wild Rice Restoration

Gun Lake Tribe Helps Mnomen Return to Local Waters

What is Mnomen?

Mnomen literally translates into good seed. But what is mnomen? In a temptation to oversimplify, one could define it merely as wild rice, but mnomen is much more than a food source, especially to citizens of Gun Lake Tribe.

A visit to the rice beds traditionally starts with an offering of sema, tobacco. Depending on the season, this is issued in combination with prayers, requests for permission to harvest, and statements of intention: This is for my family. This is for a ceremony. The relationship between Gun Lake Tribe citizens and mnomen isn’t exclusive to the harvest; it’s year round. Citizens visit the rice beds to put the rice to sleep every winter, and to wake it every spring. The process is not just about taking, far from it. “We’re trying to help the rice, not just feed ourselves. Revitalization is our main focus,” shared Mno Mijem Sovereignty Coordinator, Wyatt Szpliet.

At Ox-Bow

In 2020 the Environmental Administration of Gun Lake Tribe reached out to Ox-Bow and the Land Conservancy of West Michigan. The portion of the lagoon leading into the channel held all the markers of an area that might foster mnomen growth. Seeding efforts began that year and have continued on since. In future years, the hope is to create a sustainable rice bed that will not only be harvested for food, but will help ensure the preservation of mnomen itself.

History

“We consider the rice sacred,” Jeff Martin shared. The three tribe nations across Michigan all share the same heritage story of moving from East to West. The Great Spirit had told them through prophecy to look for the place where food grew on water. When they reached the Great Lakes, when they found mnomen… they knew they were home. This is one of the many reasons why mnomen is much more than just rice, it’s a fulfillment of the Great Spirit’s promise.

Harvest

The harvesting process takes place over about seven days. Many community members join both because of the cultural celebration that it is and because many hands make light work. It begins with gathering the rice into canoes. This process involves careful maneuvering, which is done not by paddle but by gajwéb’egen, a push pole. These cedar poles, usually hand carved, keep the root systems of the wild rice intact, whereas a paddle might damage the mnomen and other companion plants.

Shorter cedar poles, bwe’gen, or knockers, are used to knock the rice seed into the canoe. From there the seeds are transported via grain bags to a location where they can be parched within the week; this process prevents molding so the grains can be stored long term. After parching, hulling begins. Hullers wear a pair of mkeznen, shoes, reserved exclusively for this practice as they dance upon the mnomen and separate seed from its outer shell. The seed and husk are then winnowed, a process in which the mix is lightly tossed. The wind carries the husk away while the seed falls back into the birch winnowing basket. At this stage, the rice is ready to be cooked up or stored for the months to come.

Companion Plants & Invasives

When finding locations to seed mnomen, Szpliet shared they “want to keep it comfortable and companion planted.” This means scouting for areas with arrowhead plants and native cattails. Szpliet noted that the invasive purple loosestrife also shares similar preference to mnomen, but is notorious for out competing with the native species. Control of invasives such as purple loosestrife, non-native cattails, and phragmites are all vital to restoration efforts.

What happened to all the rice?

Wild lake and river rice once grew in abundance throughout Michigan, but began shrinking over time. It was just in the last 20 years that rice in Gun Lake stopped going to seed. What marked the change? Much of it has to do with water-based recreation such as speedboats, which harm the rice beds. Certain agricultural processes such as fertilizers also lead to increased algae blooms. What can be done to help? Szpliet and Martin emphasized the importance of spreading the word on how these practices harm mnomen. “We have to compete with nature already,” Szpliet said. Water Resource Specialist, Alex Wieten, also specified that increased regulations could help protect mnomen long term.

At the Table

Traditionally, every feast includes mnomen. When the youth council helped with the harvest preparations last year, they learned how to bundle the rice together to make an easier harvest later in the season. For each bundle they put prayers out and let the rice know who they were harvesting for, whether it be for their own family or for a larger celebration or ceremony such as the annual Pow Wow.

With the number of harvestable rice beds having diminished in prior years, many bands visit harvest sites on the land of other bands. When asking another band for permission to harvest, it’s common practice to offer sema. And when offers are accepted, the additional gift of a bundle of baskets, medicine, and the previous year’s harvest are often included.

Gun Lake Tribe

The Match-E-Be-Nash-She-Wish Band of Pottawatomi is a sovereign nation with powers of self-government, dedicated to upholding the values and culture of their elders. A key aspect of this includes carrying on traditions and protecting land and natural resources, as is evident in the seeding and harvesting efforts of mnomen. We’re so thankful for the investment Gun Lake Tribe has shown in the land and for the time they gave to teach us about the restoration efforts happening on the Ox-Bow Lagoon and throughout Michigan.

Ox-Bow sits on the unceded land of the Potawatomi, who called themselves Neshnabek, meaning “original people” or “true people.” We acknowledge the Potawatomi community, their elders both past and present, and their future generations as the original inhabitants of this land.

This article was written by Shanley Poole, Engagement Liaison & Storyteller, and shaped through conversation with Gun Lake Tribe’s Environmental Department and the following resources. We recommend taking the time to learn more by exploring them:

“Anam Manoomin’n” by Augustin of the Road

“Mnomen (Wild Rice)” A documentary short by Gun Lake Tribe.

“Mnomen - the Good Seed Re-Awakens,” A documentary short by the Tribal Environmental Advisory Council for the Nottawaseppi Huron Band of the Potawatomi.

Photos courtesy of Gun Lake Tribe.

Artist Profile: Chidinma Nnoli

Chidinma Nnoli creates a place to belong in her holy, haunting paintings.

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.

Nnoli didn’t find herself navigating any major shifts in her work while she was abroad. Instead, she spent time resolving paintings and, particularly at Ox-Bow, enjoying quiet time for contemplation. “I needed time to be in a space that was different,” Nnoli said. She used those three weeks to follow intuition and pick up whatever materials she felt inclined towards. Instead of exploring new territory, she dove further into the subjects and narratives that she has paid diligent tribute to over the years. 

The pains of growing, 2022, oil and acrylic on canvas, 62 x 54 inches

This habit of diving deeper is not new to Nnoli. When engaging with her practice, it’s clear she has sunk her teeth into something substantial. Her past three bodies of work share a kindred core, but each investigates new subtleties and depths. “When I think about my work, I think about it like a journey, like interconnected phases,” Nnoli explained. She has ventured through this journey at paradoxical speeds. On the one hand, she works through expansive and cohesive bodies of work simultaneously; on the other, each painting reveals the dedication and attunement of an artist that gives each piece the time it is due, never rushing to complete the next. 

Like the artist behind the paintings, Nnoli’s work defies neat boxes and definitions. She skirts away from words that might assign theories and abstractions. “I’m talking about belonging and the search for belonging” she says of her latest body of work. And as she shares more about her practice it becomes clear that she’d much rather engage in conversation about matters of the heart than words that might threaten to academize her paintings. 

“I feel grief, you know, and I hope that's something that is visible within the work,” Nnoli says. This grief she refers to is rooted in her empathy for women, an empathy which serves as her primary lens for the world. When she heard the news about Morocco’s earthquake, the first thought that passed her mind was, “What are the women going through? What is it like for them?”

None of these clocks work, 2020, oil on canvas, 40 x 48 inches

These questions and Nnoli’s deep well of empathy are often sources that exhaust her. To replenish her hope and wellbeing she credits three things: detoxing from the internet, spending time with friends, and listening to music. “I have amazing people around me,” Nnoli glowed as she mentioned them and reflected on the power of having a community with shared values. Similarly, she fills her studio with the music of powerful and heartfelt voices such as Florence & the Machine, Lorde, and Lana Del Rey.

Nnoli did not shy from the label feminist being attributed to herself, saying she identified as such “even before [she] knew what the word meant,” but she insists that her work is more than feminist. “I’m talking about things from a very personal point of view,” she elaborates, “it’s very feminist, but at the same time, I think the art world has this way of running with labels.” She fears that such labels will constrain and limit her work as well as misguide the emotions of viewers. Her ultimate desire is not that viewers will see a painting as feminist, but rather as soft, sad, and haunting. She hopes others will walk away with feelings rather than categorizations. 

Untitled, 2021, oil on arc shaped panel, 34 x 50 inches

Evident also in Nnoli’s practice is an insistent muse who rises from an unexpected source. “Religion is very much evident in my work,” Nnoli shared, “That’s something I've been trying to escape somehow, but it just keeps coming back,” as is seen in her depictions of arches, halos, and rosaries. Nnoli described her experience growing up in Lagos as one shaped by patriarchy and conservative Catholicism. Though Nnoli’s works contain an ethereal quality, I would describe the religious elements in them as haunting rather than heavenly. They hint towards familiar corruptions present in reality. However, they do manage small comforts with an implicit proposal of a differing potential, a holiness rooted in open meadows, an overgrowth of flowers, and women whose faces bleed wisdom and sorrow.

As she reflected on the cultural context’s effect on her work, she realized “that's probably why I create these dreamlike spaces that do not exist… because I don't currently know where I am or am headed. I just know I'm just finding that.” In her paintings she can carve out this space for herself, and others.

While Nnoli humbly protests that her works won’t change lives, I beg to differ. I see images and narratives that have already touched viewers at Ox-Bow and beyond. Arts writer Daniel Mackenzie sums it up well when he writes, “The wider effect of spending time with Chidinma's work is one of comfort, that the suppressed among us are being watched over; that the lonely can find comfort in universal forces that, though not always easy to detect, are always there.” Nnoli’s modest hope and belief is that her works “might be able to start a conversation.” And I would argue that such conversations are the seeds and eventual roots of life changing actions.

Banner Image: Various storms and saints, 2022, oil and acrylic on canvas, 72 x 62 inches

Headshot of Chidinma Nnoli courtesy of the artist.

Chidinma Nnoli (b. 1998 Enugu, Nigeria) is an artist working primarily with painting. Her practice contemplates the importance of a single subject ’s embodied experience(s), overlaying the past unto the present while insisting on the emotional link between body and space often in conflict with self and a background mostly saturated with religion and gendered obligations. Nnoli earned her BFA from the University of Benin and has gone on to participate in solo and group exhibitions internationally. Her works are a part of several notable collections and have been featured in Hyperallergic, The New York Times, Colossal, and Vogue. She currently lives and works in Lagos.

Ox-Bow’s Summer Residency Program offers 12 artists the time, space, and community to encourage growth and experimentation in their practice for three weeks on campus. The Summer Residencies are held while our core classes and community programs are in session. During this time, a small group of residents have access to Ox-Bow’s artist community of students, faculty, and visiting artists.

Our Summer Residencies are open to artists at any level. Currently enrolled students, MFA candidates, arts faculty, emerging, or established artists are encouraged to apply.

To learn more about the Summer Residency Program visit www.ox-bow.org/be-a-resident

This article was written by Engagement Liaison & Storyteller, Shanley Poole.

LeRoy Neiman Fellow: Natia Ser

In a stunning performance piece, Natia Ser invited fellow artists and residents of Ox-Bow out on the water to share an intimate meal and conversation.

There are a handful of places on campus that radiate a powerful energy, the lagoon being the epicenter of this force. After three summers at Ox-Bow, I am still drawn to its shores. Artist and 2023 LeRoy Neiman Fellow Natia Ser felt her own distinct attraction to the waters. She ended up staging her performance piece on the floating dock, which sits a few yards off the lagoon’s shore and has hosted many other pieces and exhibitions over the years. At this point, it feels almost tradition that at least one takes place every summer on the dock.

Ser’s fascination with water started from a young age. Her mother, concerned about the lack of water signs in Ser’s Chinese horoscope charts, strongly discouraged her daughter from spending time near water—though not without sending her to swimming classes first. Naturally, the allure became that much stronger for Ser. 

Natia Ser, Michael Stone, and Shanley Poole sit on the floating dock. Photo by Daniel Fethke.

Of all my memories on campus over the past years, Ser’s performance piece “A Sunday Brunch” stands as one of the most meaningful, perhaps because of the extent to which Ser involved both participants and the lagoon. In some ways, performance feels too distant of a word; it might better be called an immersive experience. Regardless of its title, the entire piece demonstrated Ser’s eye for intention and commitment to care.

Visitors could only venture out to the floating dock on their own or with one other person. I set about with my dear friend and coworker Michael Stone via canoe. When we neared the dock, we secured the vessel and climbed aboard to where Ser sat. Next to her were two containers of food and between her and us were fifteen or so bowls, which Ser had  crafted over the summer. She invited us each to choose one. All of the bowls were flipped upside down, showcasing unglazed stoneware with concentric circles marking the gentle elevation of the bowl and also evoking the image of ripples in water. She asked us to choose whichever one called to us.

A bowl filled with a noodle dish sits next to several other bowls positioned upside down, all crafted by Natia Ser. Photo by Natia Ser.

Natia later shared that she viewed these bowls as islands, which called towards a sketch she’d rendered that summer after many sittings observing ripples in the lagoon’s waters. The sketch depicted a collection of islands, each with their own person standing on it. “Different bowls represent different islands, which represent different people.” Ser said. But by clustering them together, they reinforce a paradox that “you are your own identity but we were together briefly.”

When I made my choice, I flipped the bowl over to reveal a smooth glaze of light blue-green with flecks of brown and gray. Each had been formed not by a potter’s wheel, but instead by molding the clay around a rock foraged from campus. The bowl’s deepest point was marked with a seal featuring Chinese characters in sigillary script. I later asked Ser what it meant and she informed me it was a signature of sorts that a family friend had carved. It lists Ser’s Chinese name with an added message. Ser specified, “It doesn’t just say my name, 沅珈, but it also says 無恙… my best way of translating this is 'Natia is unharmed.'” A fitting message for the performance piece, this poeticism was not lost on Ser. “I thought it was very perfect that I stamped it in this project specifically on a bowl that really is about me, kind of in a way transgressing my mother's prohibitions, but also having this assertion that I am safe in a place on the waters where she thought I would be in danger,” she said. Ser also rested in the comfort that “if something did go wrong on the waters, the lovely Ox-Bow community would come to my rescue in no time. A part of me thought that if I drowned, Samson [the lagoon’s giant turtle] would be there to lift me up and push me back on shore.”

Sketches of people standing on islands and swimming from one to another, ultimately inspired the shape of Ser’s ceramic wares. Photo by Natia Ser.

Ser first filled our bowl with fried vermicelli and pork. While we ate, she invited us to share a story with her in exchange for the next dish. Specifically, Ser asked us to give her a story or memory from our pasts that connected our families to food. I spoke of a family recipe passed down through generations, which started with my grandmother’s stepfather. Michael spoke of pizza nights and the recipe his father perfected.

After we finished our noodles, Ser thanked us for our stories and filled our bowls with congee, a Chinese rice porridge. While we sipped, she told us of her mother preparing the dish at home in Hong Kong. Often, it was prepared for Ser when she was sick. Here another layer of poeticism emerges, echoing against the stamp at the bowl’s base. Another translation of the insignia was “Natia is free of illness.” How playfully ironic then to be served the dish that her mother served her on day’s she stayed home with the common cold. “I never planned for everything to come together,” Ser said with a dash of revelry. It was a performance that seemed truly charged by some muse with all its serendipitous connections.

Ser casts the shape of a bowl around a rock found on campus. Photo courtesy of the artist.

I left the dock feeling filled, not just physically by the food but on a soul level. Ser’s gentle voice in harmony with the lapping of the water, the slight sway of the floating dock, the sun warm and insistent. It all coalesced, and the canoe ride to and from the performance accented the intentionality surrounding the entire piece.

The bowl that Ser gifted me with now sits at the desk of my studio from where I currently write. It serves as a soft reminder of the lagoon, of the conversations it has hosted, and all its other provisions.

Ser passes a bowl of congee to a visitor. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Of course, this snapshot on the lagoon is just a fraction of what Ser generously offered to Ox-Bow this summer. It’d be a shame to not at least briefly mention the other marks she left on campus. I had the honor of working alongside her when she joined the Ox-Bow Communications team for the Summer 2023 LeRoy Neiman Fellowship. From the start, she showed a hunger to immerse herself in various studios, take on ambitious video projects, and capture the moments of the season with photo after photo.

She not only has an eye for aesthetics, but a keen reverence that allows her to capture an intangible that makes her photos so alluring. In addition to taking stills, Natia also created two films during her time at Ox-Bow. The first, a stop motion animation, showcased the summer harvests of our food partner Eighth Day Farms.

Ser also collaborated with Print and New Media Studio Manager Madeleine Aguilar to create a video that accompanies Aguilar’s latest single “Ox-Bow - summer 2023” which (in theme with her Ox-Bow EP) focuses on Aguilar’s latest season on campus. While this video has yet to be released, the collaboration is sure to be one that holds the tender, ethereal quality that accompanies both Ser and Aguilar’s work.

Most recently, Ser returned to campus post-fellowship as a photographer documenting our 2023 Longform Residency cohort.

A snapshot from shore shows Natia Ser at a distance, sitting on the floating dock with two visitors. Photo by Daniel Fethke.

Natia Ser is a photography-based artist born and raised in Hong Kong. Her work engages in notions of familiarity and estrangement, longing and belonging from the perspective of an itinerant currently based in Chicago. In December 2023, she will complete her Bachelor of Fine Arts with a concentration in Photography and Visual and Critical Studies at the School of the Art Institute, where she was awarded the Presidential Merit Scholarship, Fred Endsley Memorial Fellowship and Graduating Student Leadership Award. She has received the Luminarts Visual Arts Fellowship (Finalist), LeRoy Neiman Fellowship, and Award for Excellence in Illinois College Newspapers (1st Place Feature Photo and 2nd Place Photo Essay). Her work has been exhibited in Hong Kong, Chicago and Japan, with some resting on the shelves of John M. Flaxman Library's Special Collections. She was the translator for Photography. My Passion. My Life., the most recent photobook of late Hong Kong photographer Fan Ho.

The LeRoy Neiman Fellowship Program offers applicants a fully funded opportunity to focus on their work, meet with renowned artists, and grow as members of this unique community. The fellows experience the entire summer session and live on campus where they provide support labor to an arts non-profit and participate in all areas of campus life. By working closely with staff, fellows develop relationships with others who have also made artmaking their lives.

To learn more about the LeRoy Neiman Fellowship Program visit www.ox-bow.org/fellowship-program.

This article was written by Engagement Liaison & Storyteller, Shanley Poole.

LeRoy Neiman Fellow: EXYL

From producing music videos to starring in short films to hand-drafting animations, LeRoy Neiman Fellow EXYL packed their summer with an abundance of creative output. While they expressed feeling an immense amount of pressure to do while at Ox-Bow, they simultaneously acknowledged they didn’t feel pressure to succeed. Instead, they gave themself permission to experiment.

“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.

In the music video they created for Visiting Artist Melina Ausikaitis’s song “He’s Great,” EXYL employs bright lights, quick cuts, jerky camera movements, and minimalist lyric-based animations to make an intoxicating and clever piece. Their film “Conversations with a Koel Bird,” which won the Terry Schwartz Asian Film Prize at the Ann Arbor Film Festival, shows an entire other side of the emotional and stylistic spectrum that EXYL is capable of channeling. Where the music video is fast and sharp, “Conversations with a Koel Bird” is slow and gentle. Present in both is a clear yearning, an element that makes EXYL uncomfortable, but they recognize as essential. “There's an undeniable romance and desire in my films that I don't think I can run away from,” they said. “Maybe it's the Cancer Moon talking,” they added with a smile.

A few of the poems from a series by EXYL. Images courtesy of the artist.

This yearning in connection with community is the element I most appreciate in their work. When EXYL moved from Singapore to Rhode Island, they observed that American creatives often center their practice in research or internal identity. Research, they openly admitted, wasn’t something that dramatically fueled them. While they have toyed with this western emphasis on identity, EXYL provides a fresh lens to their films by exploring identity in relation first to how it connects to community and others beyond the self.

It’s fitting then too, to see EXYL leaning into these communal ethics outside of their own projects. Throughout the summer, they also collaborated with artist and LeRoy Neiman Fellow Jack Holly as one of the actors in Holly’s film “Big Yellow Horse,” which saw its debut with a screening on the meadow during their final week on campus.

As a LeRoy Neiman Fellow, EXYL also participated in a work placement on campus in Housekeeping. “I've always wanted to be part of a small community where everything can be seen and touched by hands and eyes and people that you see and interact with,” EXYL said, “and I feel like [Ox-Bow] was the perfect example of a place that is small enough to do that.” In the day to day work and normalities of Housekeeping they found a sense of comfort in its physical nature, which kept them grounded to the present. “It's a very physical place… you're getting bitten by mosquitoes or you're trying to carry heavy baskets up the stairwells or trying to protect your paper from moisture and dampness.” And though this may sound like a level of hell to some, EXYL spoke of it with affection. This physicality fell in rhythm with EXYL’s natural connection with the here and now.

While EXYL insists they spend most of their time in tune with the present, that doesn’t stop them from actively pursuing their future. This fall, EXYL will take up a residency in the Dirt Palace, a feminist-run space project in Providence, Rhode Island.

EXYL holds a BFA from the Rhode Island School of Design. The LeRoy Neiman Fellowship Program offers applicants a fully funded opportunity to focus on their work, meet with renowned artists, and grow as members of this unique community. The fellows experience the entire summer session and live on campus where they provide support labor to an arts non-profit and participate in all areas of campus life. By working closely with staff, fellows develop relationships with others who have also made artmaking their lives.

To learn more about the LeRoy Neiman Fellowship Program visit www.ox-bow.org/fellowship-program.

EXYL is a filmmaker and animator born and raised in Singapore. They were trained in painting and drawing, but eventually moved into time based mediums like live action and animation. They work extensively with analogue mediums and sound design.

Their films have shown in internationally acclaimed festivals like Ann Arbor, Singapore International Film Festival, Encounters, San Diego Underground, Flickers Rhode Island, Linoleum and more. They were awarded the Terri Schwartz Asian Film Award at Ann Arbor and Best Animation at National Youth Film Awards Singapore.

They will be attending residencies at Ox-Bow School of Art, Dirt Palace Providence, and I-Park Connecticut in the next year.

This article was written by Engagement Liaison & Storyteller, Shanley Poole and was based on an interview conducted by the author.

Artist Profile: kg

kg weaves words, threads, and objects of the every day to form a practice that draws upon narratives, poetry, and sincerity.

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.

As kg and I talked again this August, they returned over and over to the idea of objects and their meanings. This connection was planted, kg theorizes, when they immigrated from Poland to America as a child. They recalled packing their suitcase, knowing they were headed to a land that had everything they’d need. What does one pack when all they’ll need is waiting on the other side? kg doesn’t remember what ended up in their bag, but they do know it was dictated by an ethic of personal value rather than economics.

As an individual in tune with the material, kg tends diligently to their studio. It is a sacred space, and even as they have moved from one to another over the years, the soul of these spaces has been preserved through kg instincts and care. “You are who you are wherever you are,” kg jested when they talked about the carryovers from studio to studio. Over the years, kg has consistently worked from the ground. I don’t mean this metaphorically; they work from a coffee table and sit on the floor. This falls in line with many weaving predecessors that they saw depicted in their library collection over the years, but it also came naturally to kg. They connect the instinct to the extension of their inner child playing on the floor. Play, kg stresses, is an essential ingredient to their practice.

Cleanup Time, 2021, 7” x 9”

Bleach soaked cotton stripes

strung with

Donettes

stabbed through with this old dog’s nose

While this childlike element is in their spirit, so too are more reverent notions, ones that I’m confident kg would insist are in partnership with, not contradiction, to that inner child. The most clear example of this can be found in their publication Some Kind of Duty, an artist book that draws its name from two sources. The first, a quote from Joan Didion on the process of going through a deceased loved one’s closet; the second, kg admitted with a smirk, is a poop joke.

One of my favorite aspects of kg’s works are the material lists. These too are a haven of humor and heart. If you haven’t encountered their work, I’m sure this sounds odd. Let me explain… Rather than listing the face value of the materials – wool, willow branch, latex balloon, plastic bag – they opt for a more poetic interpretation. Ordinary plastic bags become “bags filled with shit near the twigs with no skin.”

Blue Eye, 2018, 10” x 19”

the bone 

from a tiny chicken for two 

on carpet 

fibers with wool swirling round 

and a thanks from the smokes 

kg’s emphasis on poetics started in the mid 90’s, when kg was in grad school. Many of their professors were staunch modernists, bent towards the traditional. While many of them were averse to kg’s manipulation of the material list, the professor leading textiles ran counter culture. “She said yes first and worry about it later,” kg said. Her permissive and encouraging nature gave kg the freedom to explore their attraction to titles and the stories attached to objects. “I was working with such meaningful material,” kg stressed, and the poems provided a vessel to store and document the sentimentality, narrative, and humor that runs abundant through their work.

One of my favorite material lists includes “the bone//from a tiny chicken for two” and “a thanks from the smokes.” kg considers these material lists not just poetical, but true poems. Part of their process includes scribbling words on sticky notes that travel with the objects as they make their way in and out of weavings. “If I take that material out and say it looks better in this weaving, the post-it goes with it,” kg explained. Objects and words form kinships and travel together. Sometimes poems surface at 15+ lines and extend far beyond a four inch weaving. Rather than dwarfing their weavings by hanging the material list directly on the wall, kg took inspiration from the dilemma. They have created several poetry chapbooks at their exhibitions that pair the weavings with their intended material list.

An American Prayer, 2018, 12” x 13”

“I wanted to be romanced,” kg said, when describing their encounters with other artists’ material lists. Instead they more often detracted from their encounters with work. In contrast, kg romances viewers relentlessly with words. These atypical material lists also keep the mystery alive. Rather than explaining the magic tricks at play, kg chooses a method that elevates, rather than reduces, the spellbinding encounters.

These poems direct viewers towards the sentiments that one could overlook if only accessing the weaving. An American Prayer is paired with the following:

Ariels dark tide snaking through

silks blended with mouse grey cotton around

two moths in moon lit Caran d’ache and a

big

foamy

Bud

This piece in particular grabs my attention because of the way both the weaving and the words guide viewers in serpentine style. It creates a spirit and reads to me like a spell to speak over the gallery space.

I hope that someday you receive the enchanting experience of witnessing kg’s works in the wild. For now, should you long for a taste of it, you can view many of their weavings and poetry alongside one another at karolinagnatowski.com. May your encounters be spellbinding.

kg (b.1980, Poland) makes weavings and writes poetry from their home studio by the lake in Chicago. kg values the small the domestic and the everyday, situating those politics in their studio and curatorial practices. They have exhibited work with Horse and Pony (Berlin), The Brooklyn Academy Of Music, The Bruce High Quality Foundation and The Gowanas Ballroom (New York), Left Field Gallery and Adjunct Positions (Los Angeles), Katherine E. Nash Gallery (Minneapolis), Monique Meloche Gallery, Gallery 400, Julius Caesar and LVL3 (Chicago), The John Michael Kohler Art Center (Wisconsin) and their most recent solo exhibition, Here Comes That Feeling at Hawthorne Contemporary in Milwaukee. Some Kind Of Duty, their expansive weaving survey hosted by The DePaul Art Museum is available as a monograph through the museum shop and online. In 2017 kg attended The Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture and The Vermont Studio Center as a fellow in 2018. Future exhibitions include Intranarratives hosted by the Musée d'art Contemporain de Montréal. Currently they are Artist in Residence at Chicago’s print studio, The Donut Shop and just curated Dog Show at Arts Of Life in Chicago and Small Wonders at NIAD in California. You can see their work now in Amuleto, hosted by The Hyde Park Art Center, The Franklin and The Mayfield in Chicago.

This article was written by Engagement Liaison & Storyteller, Shanley Poole and was based on an interview conducted by the author.

Artist Profile: Libbi Ponce

Libbi Ponce first came to Ox-Bow as a student in 2018. Since then they’ve taken to the road, on the adventure known to artists as residency hopping. They’ve participated in residencies and research at ACRE, Bemis, Yale Norfolk, Ox-Bow’s Longform, the Chrysler Museum, as well as a Fulbright in Ecuador. 

To explore Libbi Ponce’s studio is to wander into a menagerie equal parts enchanting and bizarre. There you will encounter cyborgian spiders, bats with pink saucer eyes, and a unicorn with a candle-wick horn. 

These creatures are founded from the associative freedom that Ponce derives from dream logic as well as the reflective attention they give to historical artifacts, specifically those connected to their Ecuadorian roots. While some might mistake Ponce’s work as imitations, that word strikes as far too limiting. Instead, Ponce imbues their attention to the past with a palpable longing for what could be in the future, which consequently instills a potency in the now. If all this rings as too abstract, you might better appreciate the fact that Ponce’s practice combines ceramics, steel, glass, grout, beeswax, and even pink himalayan salt. Thus, their practice is expansive not only conceptually, but in Ponce’s material prowess as well. 

I personally was intrigued by the prospect of dream logic. When I inquired at its origin, Ponce elaborated on the term: “I don't necessarily feel a need to justify things in a way that makes sense.” Instead, they attempt a logic “parallel to the way that dreams work,” as seen in the sculpture gato brujo, an 8’ cat with overstretched legs that tower above a couch. 

gato brujo; 2023; steel, styrofoam, polyurethane, joint compound, paper mache, grout, concrete, pigment

Each of Ponce’s abstract zoomorphic sculptures are rooted in an altered sense of time. Ponce views these differentials as a representation of animals' propensity to adapt and change. “Its not real animals right now that we know of,” Ponce specifies. They’re supposed to evoke an other worldly or other timely sensation. Still, these sculptures hold a sense of familiarity. While instyler calls to mind a Jurassic era in which bugs outsized humans, the metal sculpture also resembles a hair iron, lending a cyborgian feel similar to the space spiders. Instyler reminds viewers of this dependency the present has on both past and future. Ponce recognized “the finish is a bit different” between instyler and gato brujo, but a similar intent can be detected. 

instyler; 2022; metal, pvc, paint, fiberglass, resin, concrete, pump, tubes, lechugines, plexiglass, silicone, plasma cut sheet metal, broom bristles, silicone make up applicators; 1m x 1m x 2m

In Ponce’s most recent work, they lean heavily into steel. The sculptures again reveal Ponce’s attention to both artifact and futurism. Sculptures such as halo and time repeating once, evoke a portal that could lead to an alternate dimension or an age-old afterlife. Variations on their artec space spider of my nightmares lends itself to a playful horror that also feels slightly humored. Over our interview Ponce laughed as they described this “nightmarish” sculpture. In their exploration of futurism, they are fixated on ensuring each sculpture sits contrary to the colonialist overtones that sci-fi has historically relied on. Their meditations on Latinx Futurism, reminds us that the artifact Ponce draws inspiration from aren’t merely pieces of the past, but essential ingredients for dialogue that could lead to a better future.

Libbi Ponce sits on their sculpture gato brujo. Image courtesy of the artist.

Libbi Ponce (they/them, she/her) is an Ecuadorian artist, born in 1997 to a family of musicians, making sculptures, 360-degree videos, installations, and performances. Ponce explores themes of Latinx-Futurism through a sculptural practice of world-building incorporating an ambitious range of materials including steel, bronze, resin, polyurethane, mortar, grout, terracotta, and glass. Inspired by the erotic and anthropomorphic motifs from ancient Andean ceramics, Ponce constructs tactile sculptural objects which probe discourse on grief, intimacy, and historic folklore.

They have attended the Bemis Center for Contemporary Arts, Ox-Bow School of Art & Artists' Residency, Yale Norfolk Undergraduate Residency, and ACRE. Exhibitions include terciopelo at Selenas Mountain, BASE REMOVED at the Museo Antropologico y de Arte Contemporaneo, and Skyway 20/21 at the Tampa Museum of Art. They hold a BFA in Studio Art and BA in Philosophy from the University of South Florida. In 2021, Ponce completed a Fulbright Creative Research Fellowship in Ecuador. In 2023, they completed an ArtTable research fellowship at the Chrysler Museum Of Art. Libbi is the founder/director of galeria juniin in Guayaquil, Ecuador and Co-Director of Coco Hunday Gallery in Tampa, FL. Libbi is currently based between Ecuador and the United States.

This article was written by Engagement Liaison & Storyteller, Shanley Poole and was based on an interview conducted by the author.

The National Endowment for the Arts Awards Grant

SAUGATUCK, MI: The National Endowment for the Arts awards grant to support Ox-Bow School of Art’s Artist Residency Program.

SAUGATUCK, MICHIGAN – Ox-Bow School of Art & Artists’ Residency was awarded a $42,000 grant to support the Artist Residency Program on campus. The grant comes from the National Endowment for the Arts’ Grant for Arts Projects (GAP), the organization's most robust grant program. These funds will support Ox-Bow’s variety of Residencies including the keystone Summer Residency and a variety of Fall Residencies.

The grant issued to Ox-Bow is one of over 1,000 that were awarded to other organizations throughout all 50 states. Funding was administered specifically to institutions pursuing “public engagement with the arts and arts education, the integration of the arts with strategies that promote the health and well-being of people and communities, and the improvement of overall capacity and capabilities within the arts sector.” Honored to be awarded under such criteria, Ox-Bow looks forward to continuing to uphold these ideals.

“Ox-Bow is deeply grateful for this substantial support from the NEA which acknowledges not only the work we do, but the importance of artist residencies in sustaining creative practice,” stated Executive Director, Shannon Stratton, “the cultural wealth of any nation depends on supporting artistic research and development, and the artist residency is key to that work.”

Artist residencies are an essential way through which Ox-Bow lives into its mission to connect artists to a network of creative resources, people, and ideas; an energizing natural environment; and rich artistic history and vital future. The grant will provide essential support to Longform 2023, a mentored studio residency that seeks to provide an intensive, creative development experience that will foster deep connections amongst facilitators, visiting artists, and participants. In addition to Longform, Ox-Bow hosts twelve Artists for the Summer Artist Residency Program, providing them with a three-week period to invest in their practice and step away from the demands of the day-to-day. This funding from the NEA helps ensure the continued flourishing of these vital programs, and by extension the flourishing of artists. 

Founded in 1910, Ox-Bow School of Art and Artists’ Residency is an arts-based nonprofit with a rich legacy of empowering and investing in artists. Their year around programming welcomes degree-seeking students, professional artists, and those new to the arts. The 115 acre campus – located alongside and protected by the dunes, forests, and waters of Saugatuck – cultivates a space that does not simply host its residents but enhances their practice. Both its facilities and faculty edify their longstanding mission: to serve as a network of creative resources, people, and ideas amidst an energizing natural environment inspired by its rich artistic history and fueled by the potential of a vital future.

Artist Profile: Jessee Rose Crane

Jessee Rose Crane first came to Ox-Bow at age 24 as a student at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Thirteen years later, she’s still coming back.

Most recently, Crane returned as a faculty member for our core academic season. Her studio practice is robust, ranging from inflating steel to performing live music and recording albums. In her lecture at Ox-Bow House, she shared about finding a place to nest within the arts and in my one-on-one conversation with Crane, she focused on the importance of making space for others in those same sectors.

When Jessee took possession of what would eventually become Rose Raft Residency, she didn’t know its contents. The building, a defunct funeral home constructed in 1872, was most recently owned by a hoarder. Crane had not yet seen the inside of the building when she signed the dotted line, and when she first stepped into the building, every room was brimming with materials that had succumbed to mold and mildew. Rather than trying to sort through and scavenge, Crane took action outside of her ordinary. She threw it all away. And she started from scratch.

It was more than an intensive remodel that made the process of opening a residency in New Douglas, Illinois a challenging one. At the time, Crane and her partner, Philip Lesicko, had questions about how leaving Chicago might impact them. “We’re leaving civilization. How are we going to function as a band?” was the semi-melodramatic question they asked themselves. In truth, the town is only 45 minutes from St. Louis, making their claim of leaving civilization a slight exaggeration, but it was a huge leap away from their core community and networks. Yet time has proved they aren’t hurting for their decision.

On the contrary, multiple Chicago-based musicians have made a point to visit them. Recently, Ox-Bow’s own Madeleine Aguilar (current Print Studio Manager and former Artist-in-Residence) recorded her first album at Rose Raft. It’s partially because of the residency’s remote location that allows them to offer a residency and studio recording facilities at a more accessible price, a factor that Crane is passionate about. Many of the artists that visit Rose Raft come to record their first album or EP. It’s clear that Crane derives a distinct sense of purpose from bringing in artists at such a crucial point in their artistic journey. “It really is like a stepping stone,” Crane said, “it’s like dipping your toe into what a residency experience is.”

Doozy, 2017, mixed media, found objects, steel, wood, bronze, magnifying lenses, 8’x3’x9’

It was at an artists’ residency at ACRE that Crane initially started to think about this element of accessibility in relation to the arts, an element she’d taken for granted. At the time, performing music served as a lifeline for Crane, who was grieving the loss of her brother Nathan. She was discussing the places she performed in Chicago when another artist chimed in, “I’ve never felt welcome in those spaces.” It was those words that chipped the glass for Crane. She started to see the culture as less than perfect and she began longing for something greater, something safer. “That’s why you go to residencies, kids!” Crane said in both jest and sincerity.

Crane understands firsthand how impactful the residency environment can be.  It was her time as a student at Ox-Bow where she first caught the bug. “Having enriching meals and conversations and meeting people from all over… when I was student there, I was like ‘I want to teach here!’” Crane reminisced. And it was also during one of her summers as a student that she witnessed an artist’s talk that shaped the lecture she would give a decade later at Ox-Bow House.

During the years that Jessee was a student, lectures were given in the basement of the New Inn. One summer, Jimmy Wright gave a talk about his work. He presented slides on a series of paintings he’d made. Each were studies of flowers that were dried out or wilting. During the lecture, he shared about his partner dying of AIDS. “He spoke about it with such care, and just not even a white air of exploitation,” reflected Crane. To her, this served as a guide for how she could share about losing her brother, who died by suicide when she was in college. During prior album releases, she received several PR pitches that seemed bent on exploiting Nathan’s death for the benefit of the record. At the same time, she felt uncomfortable with remaining entirely quiet about her grief. In Wright, she found an example of how to share with love and candor.

Kink (detail), steel, plaster, 6”x3”x5’

This past July, Crane was able to share more openly about navigating arts school and grieving her brother than she’d ever done before in a lecture. An avid documentor of her work, Crane made a conscious choice to not record the lecture. “I will act differently if I’m being filmed,” Crane admitted, and she wanted the talk to be as honest as possible. And honest it was. Following the lecture, a number of students connected with Crane, confiding to her their kindred experiences. “How long will it take for me to feel okay?” One student asked her. And though she didn’t have answers to many of their questions, it was clear that just sharing those snapshots of her story had a profound impact on the audience. Or, to speak more personally, they certainly had a profound impact on me.

There was something deeply powerful and moving about the way she spoke to us, her audience. She stood close to the rows of chairs, she paced, she paused often, she lost her train of thought. It felt conversational. It felt… human.

During Crane’s stay on campus, I was able to drop in on her course Inflating Steel. Seeing Crane in action as a professor carried over a similar energy from her lecture. Present for an afternoon in which the studio was alight with students at work, I witnessed Crane coaching each student with her trademark kinetic and fervent energy. “Give it more! Give it more!” She cried out on several occasions as we watched the steel balloon open.

Headshot of Jessee Rose Crane. Image courtesy of the artist.

While Jessee Crane is often lauded for inflating steel (a method invented by Elizabeth Brim), her personal practice is quite expansive. In her own words, she “make[s] art out of everything.” Most recently, she enjoys working with lighter materials to make massive sculptures. “I’m trying to take care of my body,” Crane said. “So I can smoke longer,” she added with a wink in her tone.

Those interested in learning more about Crane or Rose Raft can visit jesseerosecrane.com and roseraft.org.

Artist Profile: Emilio Rojas

Former Ox-Bow Artist-in-Residence, Emilio Rojas (2017), responds to the last 15 years of his work. Even while looking back, he never stops the pursuits of forward and next. While on tour with his exhibition tracing a wound through my body, he has executed new performances at various museums and galleries. At his last stop at the Southeastern Center for Contemporary Arts, he takes the time to reflect on the process.

The exhibition tracing a wound through my body was first conceptualized in 2020. As Rojas began to look back on his work he realized it stretched back 15 years. Multidisciplinary in scope, the work investigates colonialism through film, print, and photographic capturings of various performance pieces.

“I’m making work that is not always easy to digest,” Rojas says, nor does it appear easy to execute. His performance pieces often require undergoing intense physical duress. “I’m interested in these sorts of intense experiences, or catharsis, rather,” Rojas elaborated. This is obvious in the capturing of a performance piece in which the artists’ arms are wrapped around a cactus. He spent hours hugging it in heat of over 100º F, conditions so extreme that it solicited hallucinations. In another video, Rojas sits under a tree for six hours, drinking a slow drip of sap from the tapped tree. The performance ends when he has consumed liquid equal to the amount of water in the human body.

Visitors of the exhibit inevitably might wonder about the why behind it all, and those that search for an answer discover Rojas’s work never lacks intent or poetics. “Performance, for me, it’s a way to process,” says Rojas. In “Instructions for Becoming (Waterfall)” the artist participated in what he described as a sort of rebirth. The photo was taken the day after Rojas moved to a new city and took a new job after a divorce. “It looks like I’m drowning,” he says of the photo, “but it actually felt like a purification.” This is not the only piece for which Rojas’s initial audience was mother-nature. In his similarly titled portrait photo “Instructions for Becoming,” Rojas disappears into the root system of a tree. He sought it out during a trip back to Mexico amidst frustrations and anxiety while awaiting his green card. “I tried to find a tree with the thickest roots to connect back to my roots,” he explained.

While reflecting on more political work, he shared the advice he once received from his mentor Tania Bruguera “Political art, it’s site specific, but it’s also time specific… you have to do it when it’s urgent.” Though he initially attached this lens to political art, the same can be said for the work that leans more heavily on what Rojas describes as “poetics.”

Far from completely abandoning the political nature of his work, Rojas has instead attempted to strike a balance between poetics and politics. Since 2021, he has created site specific performance pieces that engage with the history of the exhibition spaces. In the Southeastern Center for Contemporary Arts, he conducted a choreographed performance piece that centered around cleaning the Center’s Hanes House, whilst wearing Hanes clothing. His work is highly influenced by poets such as Gloria E. Anzaldua, Ocean Vuong, Nikki Giovanni, Clauda Rankine, Audre Lorde, and Pamela Sneed. Rojas views performance as “poetic movement… with your body you’re creating poetry.”

In his ongoing performance piece “A Manual to Be (to Kill) or To Forgive My Own Father,” Rojas literally dissects his father’s book Pequeño Hombre and reorients the words on self healing cutting matts. As if the materials themselves aren’t poetic enough, the poems he creates through the words elevate it all the more, as does the communal foundation of the process. Rojas refers to the process as “mining” for poems and invites others that have complex relationships with their fathers to participate in the process with him. During one-on-one sessions with Rojas, participants are encouraged to engage in conversation with him and construct a poem of their own on one of the self-healing matts.

Rojas started this exercise eight years ago in 2015. “My healing of that relationship has taken that long,” he expressed. Even as he continues to mine into this multi-year investigation, he keeps looking forward. The Southeastern Center for Contemporary Art marks the last stop of the three-year exhibition tour of tracing a wound through my body. Next, Rojas heads to Georgia to participate in a residency where he looks forward to digging through footage of the various performance installations he’s created over the past two years.

More information on Emilio Rojas and his work is available at emiliorojas.studio.

Alumni Artist-in-Residence 2023: Paul Peng

Hell in the Summer, graphite on paper, 28 in. by 20 in.

Peng discusses breaking free from artistic blocks, moving beyond the studio, and finding freedom in the 9-5.

When I sit down to call Paul Peng, he first appears on screen beaming a smile. Peng confesses he’s just finished another virtual meeting; “If I seem a bit tired at the start of this call, it’s because I am.” I’m charmed by this candor, his willingness to disclose what’s going on in his world. This same earnestness carries us through the rest of the call, a two and a half hour conversation, which spans in focus from his studio practice to DDR competitions. It’s 1:30 p.m. on a Wednesday, the most notorious slog hour of the work week and I too am a bit tired, however, the energy soon takes off. It’s not long until the general spark of the conversation has us both alight.

It’s been six years since Peng last attended Ox-Bow. In that time his relationship with his studio space, artistic practice, and career have changed significantly. A longstanding element of Peng’s practice is cartoon work, but his associations and explorations of this work have proved adaptive over the years. From 2017 to 2022, Peng rooted his work in exploring similarities between cartoon and mark making. By exploring their shared nature, Peng produced a number of works. This investigation he pinpoints as a significant shift in his practice. He noted laughingly that others might not be able to notice the shift, but he viewed it as a driving force that propelled him forward. However, in 2022 that curiosity found its end. Peng initially tried to continue the exploration, but realized the effort was forced. The question had gone stale.

Ground, graphite on paper, 38 in. by 50 in.

Peng next began to focus on object oriented ontology, most typically associated with sculpture, and applied it to his drawing practice. The goal was to create drawings that were actual objects and not representations. Peng produced a number of works based on this investigation. He laughs as he recalls, “I made some very strange drawings,” and ultimately realized “cartoons are representational, no matter how much I don’t want them to be… they are.” In retrospect, he recognizes it as a strategy to break free of his block. While it successfully did that, it more importantly made Peng realize that this was just another fashion in which he was “radically changing how [he] made art to match how [he] thought about art.” Now “instead of trying to change my art to match the way I think,” Peng recognizes, “I need to change the way I think to match my art.” This is the philosophy that Peng leans into today, an attitude that produces work indisputably authentic to the artist.

In similar spirit, Peng enjoys investigating how space affects his practice. Some of his favorite drawings of late have been produced in coffee shops. Though he still keeps a studio space, he finds freedom in pursuing his work beyond those walls. To only produce work in the studio, he finds, limits the scope of what he can produce. Just as thoughts can restrict artistic expression, so too can spatial influences.

Like many artists, Peng has juggled a number of jobs to pay the bills. After graduating from his MFA program, he navigated a variety of part time teaching contracts. He resisted committing to a nine-to-five for fear of the toll it would take on his artistic practice, but Peng found the financial pressure of these part time contracts to be a burden that still siphoned energy from his creative goals. He came to the conclusion, “I can't continue living life in fear… under this assumption that having a full time day job would like completely drain… because I'm already experiencing that through this weird part time gig.” So in 2018 he picked up a job in coding.

In undergrad Peng had studied computer science alongside studio art. “And no I didn’t do it as a safety net,” he chided. He insisted that for the sake of his soul, he needed to study computer science. He truly loved the world of math and programming. When he returned to it in 2018, he experienced an incredible relief as a he realized, “my life is big enough for more than one passion.” 

Over the past few years Peng has been creating more and more space for his variety of interests. He first felt this sense of permission at Ox-Bow as a student. “Ox-Bow was the first time where I experienced this environment where art didn't feel like it was in a zero sum game with the rest of my life,” Peng said. As it turns out, Peng lives a life filled with an abundance of pursuits, two of the more recent ones being DDR competitions and trips to amusement parks. He disclosed, only half joking, he might organize a trip to the local coaster park in Michigan this summer. As he anticipates his return to Ox-Bow, Peng hopes for equal parts work and play. Just as much as time in the studio, Peng looks forward to time to “frolic on the meadow” and venture out on the lagoon with canoes, to let art and life sit in an unencumbered exchange with one another, and to delight in whatever arrives. 

Birthday, graphite on paper, 38 in. by 50 in.

Photo of Paul Peng. Image courtesy of the artist.

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.

If you have news or stories you’d like to share about your time at Ox-Bow or beyond, you can contact Engagement Liaison & Storyteller, Shanley Poole, at spoole@ox-bow.org.

Alumni Artist-in-Residence 2023: bex ya yolk

The Mother and the copy, the copy, the copy, the copy…, 2022, paper, poplar wood, walnut stain, wood glue, 11x 26 in.

Book binder and maker bex ya yolk speaks to their passions: queering the maternal complex, broadening the cannon, and (of course) bookmaking.

“Thungry is a neologism,” Artist bex ya yolk explains, “a combination of two words: thirst and hunger.” THUNGRY is also the name of yolk’s independent book bindery. That evocation, hunger and thirst, encompasses how the bookmaking process started for yolk. “It’s kind of a compulsion,” they share, “I’m not a religious person, but I felt called to make books.” The process began in undergrad through their studies in graphic design. Yolk noted laughingly that most artists might make one or two artist books over their career to capture a specific exhibition or collection, but yolk had stumbled into making a whole practice out of book bindery.

Amidst the indie press community, yolk finds a distinct importance and sense of hope. “The publishing cannon in America, in capitalist America, is failing,” yolk says. In contrast, they see indie presses stepping in to fill the gap, “They’re carving out ways to exist and move forward,” and the contributions of indie presses and binderies are broadening the canon. It is yolk’s desire that THUNGRY will elevate and partner with queer and BIPOC artists. Collaboration, yolk specifies, is a core part of the work.

In general, collaboration is not uncommon in the world of indie presses. For yolk, partnerships keep the work engaging. There is a loss of control that they understand to be daunting, yet essential. They find that within collaborative work “it becomes more experiential, you’re excited about the literal joy of making, which gets lost when you’ve been doing this [alone] for a couple years.” To add a collaborator is to lose certainty, and thereby reinsert mystery. “We do this to connect with other people. Very simply, I am doing this to have someone else be like, ‘Yeah, me too,’” a moment and affirmation, which happens organically and in live time with collaborators.

Book Belly (the first prototype)/ 2021, acrylic, screenprint ink, zinc-plated wood joiners, nylon straps, matte, sealant, 13 x 45 x 7.5 x 1/8 in.

In addition to yolk’s bindery, they also have a rich research and writing practice rooted most substantially in exploration of the maternal complex. Their work asks, “What does it look like when that maternal narrative or that internal need is still there, but it might not be performed in this way that is traditional.” They call the theory they’re developing “the new maternal,” another facet of which includes degendering and queering the maternal. Yolk describes the maternal at its core as a care ethic of protection and nurturance. Even giving attention to something (a person or creative practice) qualifies. By this definition and in yolk’s words “everyone has the propensity for the maternal.” Plant care, teaching art classes, feeding the cat, walking the dog all become a part of the complex. 

The research has led to deeply speculative work for yolk. “I’m not really looking for an answer,” they admit. “It’s about posing questions.” This too seems to echo their collaborative work. The stories of others propel yolk forward. They spoke candidly of trauma they faced in the medical system and how what they encountered inspired them to speak loudly about what many AFAB and non-binary people face within the medical system. “I don't have any shame or embarrassment about the things that I've gone through in the healthcare system… I'm very open about that… because if I do [stay silent] they win.” By speaking out, yolk is finding ways not only to empathize and connect with others, but also to resist and destabilize the system that perpetuates this traumatization of AFAB and non-binary people.

Yolk also sees the maternal manifesting within the physicality of books themselves. A book can be seen as both a womb and a shelter. While yolk describes this similarity as a coincidence, it’s one that they’ve embraced within their work. Consequently, feminist theory has woven itself into many of their recent books. This can be seen explicitly in their works “Womb Cage” as well as the wearable “Book Belly,” while other pieces are more intrinsic in their maternal nature such as “Texture Notes,” which was created with handmade paper that yolk produced during their first summer at Ox-Bow.

Womb Cage Book, 2021, muslin, PVA, thread, polyester stuffing, basalt + limestone, 11 x 13 x 1.5 in.

Throughout conversation with yolk, they kept returning to the idea of connecting with others: “If we're really gonna strip away all of the pomp and circumstance… at the core of it, it's about connecting to someone else or a group of people,” yolk says. This summer they hope to continue to do just that through their work as an Artist-in-Residence and as co-faculty for Riso-Relations & Bookish Behavior. They cite books as a powerful material, an object which has been tied for millennia to the human experience. Yolk plans to investigate the intersection of performance and storytelling. They’re asking the question, “How can we explore storytelling through sculpture or dance or movement or sound or voice?” in hopes that their time at Ox-Bow can be, perhaps not a firm answer, but (even more satisfyingly) an exploration of this inquiry.

Headshot of bex ya yolk. Image courtesy of the artist.

Yolk feels this is a project destined for Ox-Bow. “I felt comfortable proposing this as a thing that could only really flourish at Oxbow… because I’ve already spent time there and understand its culture.” Part of this process, yolk feels, is a method of giving back to the campus, which significantly nurtured their own practice. Ox-Bow in turn waits eagerly in hopes of all that this project will surely evolve into.

If you have news or stories you’d like to share about your time at Ox-Bow or beyond, you can contact Engagement Liaison & Storyteller, Shanley Poole, at spoole@ox-bow.org.

Alumni Artist-in-Residence 2023: Mia Rollins

Alumni Mia Rollins talks process, permission, and the spring board that Ox-Bow provided for their work.

Mia Rollins is an artist whose work utilizes video installation sculptures to experiment with optical illusion, investigate scientific hypotheses, and journey into the mystical. While Rollins’s work takes big bites, it never seems to be more than they can chew, even when they go, in their words, “knocking on the door of a nuclear reactor.”

Early in undergrad at Brown, Rollins considered studying physics or environmental science, but it was ultimately the arts department that lured them. It was in the studio that they felt compelled to explore scientific principles and theories that had almost tempted them into a career of lab coats.

Prodigal (I-440W), May 2021, video projected on salt and cake installation, 1 x 7 x 7 ft. (as installed, dimensions variable), 3 min 45 sec (loop).

While Rollins incorporates and utilizes various aspects of their past in their work – their pursuit of becoming a professional figure skater, their father’s obsession with camcorders, their affection for physics – they still rank their first summer at Ox-Bow as one of the most significant pivot points in their career.

“My first time I went was really a huge shifting point in my practice… the Visiting Artist while I was there was Dario Robleto.” Rollins had been an admirer of Robleto’s work since age 15 when they listened to his feature on Radio Lab. “It was the first work to make me cry just conceptually,” they shared. During Robleto’s first visit to Rollins studio at Ox-Bow, the admiration was returned. Rollins still sounds giddy when they describe that initial interaction.

“It was one of those weird things... He watched one of my pieces and he was like ‘That was the best work I’ve seen in years.’” From then on, Robleto and Rollins became fast friends, while Robleto also served as a mentor to Rollins. He gave them one particularly impactful piece of advice: to knock on doors. He confided with Rollins that after 30 years, no scientist had ever knocked on his door, and that many scientists he’d called had said no, but a few said yes, a few had opened their doors.

Headshot of Mia Rollins. Image courtesy of the Artist.

Liberated by Robleto’s advice, Rollins started taking initiative. “That motivation changed everything for me. I went back to Providence and I just started doing that… talking to researchers at Brown University who were studying the brain and dementia.” That initiative propelled them forward. “The nuclear reactor residency came out of knocking on a door of a nuclear reactor,” which further down the road led to a NASA Grant. According to Rollins, “It was totally all due to meeting [Robleto] at Ox-Bow.” While not every situation ends in NASA Grants, Rollins time at Ox-Bow encapsulates much of what residencies strive to provide: a time to build community with other artists, to take risks in one’s practice, and to leave not just refreshed but emboldened. 

If you have news or stories you’d like to share about your time at Ox-Bow or beyond, you can contact Engagement Liaison & Storyteller, Shanley Poole, at spoole@ox-bow.org.

Header Image: Sominum (Transmission I), June 2022, video projection on sprayed haze clouds and parametric, arcylic dishes, 12 x 10 x 10 ft. (as installed- dimensions variable), 7 min 15 sec (loop).

Madeleine Aguilar’s Ox-Bow EP

Photo Caption: (left) Madeleine Aguilar on stage while playing the guitar. (right) Madeleine Aguilar, mobile music maker II, Found instruments, wood, rope, clamps, and chair legs. Images courtesy of the artist.

Madeleine Aguilar is an artist of many talents. Rather than limiting herself to a lane – visual art, writing, or music – Aguilar embraces variety and hybridity within her work. It is in the exchange between these forms where her practice comes to life in enchanting ways. 

Aguilar described her years in undergraduate school as a time where she kept her various practices separate, a time of “skillbuilding and trying to become a master of all trades.” Now, she recognizes the liminal spaces between these practices as essential learning environments. While formalizing her visual practice, music served as a creative outlet and escape where she could “play around and not worry about making perfect things.” Aguilar has realized over time that this improvisational attitude is a creative asset and strives to integrate it into her other creative practices. This approach, combined with her interest in collaborative work, dictates many of her current projects. 

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. 

Now serving as the Print and New Media Studio Manager, Aguilar spent the summer of 2022 at Ox-Bow as a staff member, rather than a student. “The first week felt like a month, now ten days is nothing at all,” Aguilar sings in “Ox-Bow (summer 2022),” the EP’s closing song. “Time changes as someone who lives there,” she reflected in her interview, “Ox-Bow becomes your home.” The album overall feels deeply intimate in its relatability. Perhaps this is due to the nature by which Aguilar is drawn to songwriting. She describes music as a journaling practice of sorts. “I don’t keep a diary,” she said, but her songs function as a mode of processing. Her first visit to Ox-Bow during the winter of 2019 she described as “the most magical experience,” resulting in what Aguilar referred to as “Ox-Bow withdrawal” when she returned to Chicago. As a way of digesting her experience, she wrote the song that eventually became the opener to the EP.

As Aguilar prepares to return to Ox-Bow this spring, she anticipates more additions to the collection of songs. Those keen on listening to its current standings can tune in on Soundcloud. And definitely keep your ears perked for new music in the future. Aguilar revealed that a recent trip to Rose Raft included time in the recording studio, capturing what will eventually be Aguilar’s first full album.

If you have news or stories you’d like to share about your time at Ox-Bow or beyond, you can contact Engagement Liaison & Storyteller, Shanley Poole, at spoole@ox-bow.org.