BFA 491 Questions 

Research Statements

 By using kudzu as a metaphor for queerness, it illuminates how queerness is seen as invasive in this country.  

By using kudzu as a metaphor for queerness, it mirrors how queerness is seen as invasive in this country.

Given the heavy association with Southern invasive, using kudzu as a metaphor for queerness mirrors the treatment of queer people in this country.

What art historical works or movements can you cite to support your work?

The Modern Art, the Eco-Art, and Queer Art movements have influenced my work. Experimental artists within these movements have transformed what materials were supposed to be used for, and used them in ways that seemed outrageous, however, redefined the limitations of those materials. For example, Christo, who was a part of the Eco-Art movement, covered landscapes and buildings in sheets of fabric which disrupted what the viewer recognized or expected these scenes to look like. In the Wrapped Coast, Little Bay Australia project which was completed in 1969, Christo covered the coast in a sheet of white fabric while the rope system held the fabric in place in order for the texture of the rocks to be seen beneath the fabric. Robert Smithson's Spiral Jetty is composed natural elements from the Salt Lake that will eventually decompose into the rest of the landscape. Smithson made the work in an unpopulated area of the Salt Lake, intentionally making the Spiral Jetty for the landscape itself, and not for human viewers. The viewer can potentially walk on the spiral when the lake's water level is low and ultimately become a part of the environment and sculpture. 

Artists of the Modern Art movement, specifically in the areas of craft, have centered their work around their material of choice. Ruth Asawa, a former student of Black Mountain College, took a seemingly mundane material, such as copper and brass wire, and made intricate hanging sculptures that blurred the boundaries between inside and outside. Asawa's would often be inside her sculptures while weaving them, ultimately camouflaging herself beneath the metal lattice while still being seen from the outside. 

Queer Art is an overarching term that encompasses all art relating to queerness. This can mean applying queer theory to a material, such as Harmony Hammond's Floorpieces which made in 1973 and included braided rugs. The braids were symbolic of queerness, and in Hammond's terms, lesbian art is defined in three sections: sexuality, gender, and art. Shelia Pepe's Girders and Fence, and a woven installation from 2005, transformed and disrupted the space it webbed in. Pepe act of messy crocheting is an ode to the unconventional love of queerness, not only loving who you love, but also loving yourself. The norm is to crochet neatly, as Pepe was taught, however, she wanted to embrace the chaos, which is reflective of what it means to be queer in this country. 

What are your art making non-negotiables, without which you wouldn’t be interested in making the work?

I am very interested in how materials inform the concept. In my current work, kudzu is a vessel for my identity and a metaphor for which I show how queerness disrupts heteronormativity. Kudzu is an extremely controversial plant in which some are interested in its uses and how it can be implemented into society and others are awaiting the day when it its finally eradicated from American landscapes. Whether it be heteronormativity or landscapes, both kudzu and queerness disrupt and transform. 

I am not interested in making work that is explicitly portraying my concept because I do not believe in giving the audience every detail, rather having the viewer decipher the meaning for themselves is more impactful. Abstraction allows the viewer to think deeper about the work they are viewing, rather than having all of the information in front of them. Making abstract sculpture is difficult because there is a fear that not everyone will understand the work. The advice I received from queer artist, Melissa Wilkinson, "How can you allow the viewer to feel what is like to be queer, rather than explicitly tell them?" That piece of advice has launched me into the installation that I am currently working on, which is a fully immersive experience for the viewer. I want the viewer to feel what is like to be queer through the way the fibers are woven and taking up space in the gallery. The viewer may feel trapped, claustrophobic, held and enchanted, all of these feelings are valid to the queer experience. 

 How might you use narrative, visual metaphor, allegory and/or symbolism to add complexity to your work and to better visualize your concept?

In this body of work, the chosen material reinforces the concept. Kudzu, an infamous invasive species throughout the Southeastern United States, has been through a complicated timeline. Kudzu was first viewed as a miracle and answered prayer to the USDA's research of how to heal the weak Southern soils. Channing Cope, who is known as the "Father of Kudzu" in the US, used kudzu to restore the soil on his 700 acre plot. The soil was extremely depleted, but with the help of nitrogen-fixing kudzu, the soil became healthy again and beef cattle grazed upon its leafy ocean. Channing also organized the Kudzu Club of America in 1943, which was based out of Atlanta. The Kudzu Club had over 20,000 members and held various events including a contest in which the winner would be announced the "Kudzu Queen." Some people were so attached to this plant that they adopted the name of kudzu, such as "Kudzu Smith", or "Kudzu Cole." It wasn't until 1970 that kudzu as labeled as an invasive species by the USDA and the view of the vine shifted from cultivation to eradication. 

While at Arrowmont in the summer of 2022, I took the class "Queer Strategies for Textile Thinking," taught by HH Hiaasen. While in the class, my instructor encouraged me to explore outside in search of an object or material that could reflect my identity. As I searched, I saw a slope full of the leafy vine. I was immediately drawn to it and  began pulling the vines up. Seeing the plant reminded me of its resilience, strength, and brought comfort to me as it reminded me of North Carolina. I began to incorporate this new material into my weavings during the class and used it as a metaphor for how queer people are treated like an invasive species. Queerness, similarly to kudzu, is viewed as invasive and unnatural. While kudzu and queerness are both a part of nature and should exist, they are seen as a nuisance by political and religious groups and that they both do not have a place in society. I came out in the South and I wanted to use a plant that exists in Southern landscapes. Both kudzu and queerness challenge conformities and grow beyond society's capacity to maintain them. 

Name three contemporary artists whose artwork relates to your own. What are the similarities? Differences?

To choose only three artists is quite difficult. I find new artists who inspire me often, and I am always searching for more art that influences me. Whether that be the artist's use of material, the concept of the piece, the way in which it is displayed, I am constantly impacted and am observing the environment around me. 

Cassils is a transgender artist who incorporates their body into interactions with other materials in a performance setting. Cassils pushes their body physically with the material that is included into the performance and references queer history and the queer experience. Cassils's work is extremely personal to them and also abstract. The way they interact with the specific material chosen for the performance reflects their feelings and the way their body is perceived and treated by heteronormative society. Similarly, I put a huge emphasis on material and process with my work. The end result to me is just as important as the route I took to get there. However, I do not incorporate the physical body in my work as much as Cassils does and if I do, my performances are not as physically involved. Cassils's and I's identities are extremely important to us and our best way to communicate our feelings is through our visual work. 

Angela Eastman is a weaver and installation artist. Her work involves natural materials, such as willow reeds and the resources from the surrounding environment where she chooses to install her work. Eastman combines both conventional and unconventional weaving to create visually captivating works. Her creative use of kudzu, metal, leaves, and other mediums displays her mastery and collaboration with the materials. Unlike my own work, Eastman does not delve deeply into her personal identity with her work, nor explores queerness. We both do work with natural materials and performance. 

Jes Fan is an multidisciplinary artist who utilizes multiple materials in unexpected ways in their sculptures. They explore their queerness, the binary and other social constructs, as well as biology within their work. Jes Fan's pieces are reminiscent of both the organic and the industrial and captivate the viewer with the combination of textures and shapes. Fan and I both reflect our identities and question social constructs that have constricted our queerness within our sculptures. I do not use as many different mediums as Jes Fan, nor is my work as reflective of the physical body. Jes Fan and I also combine materials are that seen as less malleable, such as metal and wood, with materials that have no starting orientation, such as fiber and glass. I am extremely inspired by Jes Fan's art and the way their work inhabits space. 

What questions are you asking of your viewer? What do you want them to take away?

The questions I am asking my viewer are what is kudzu's presence in Southern landscapes? How is kudzu treated and what labels are being used to describe it? How is queerness treated in the United States and how is it seen as invasive by religious and political groups? What acts are being done and have been done in an attempt to eradicate queerness, just as the attempt to eradicate kudzu off Southern landscapes continues? How can we make kudzu a part of our society, similar to queerness, so that both kudzu and queerness can be viewed not as an 'other'? By using kudzu as a metaphor for queerness, how can it take up space the way queerness should? How do the experiences of queer folks differ from that of straight folks? How does the resilience, strong networking, and nonconforming growth patterns of kudzu reflect that of queerness? How do queerness and kudzu disrupt the societial standards set for plant growth and for hetereonormativity? 

I want the viewer to be able to see kudzu in a new way and rethink its status as a seemingly useless invasive species that inhabits Southern landscapes. I also want the viewer to see how the fibers take up space and demand attention in my work, similar to how queer folks should also take up space and demand attention. I am not expected everyone to make the connection to queerness. I do want the viewer, however, to be able to feel what it might feel like to be queer through my work. 

How do your individual pieces work together as a cohesive whole both formally and conceptually?

Each of my pieces is representative of the queer experience in this country. This body of work reflects my own experiences and my feelings of what its like to be queer as well as how queerness is treated. These experiences and feelings can be felt by other queer folks and capturing those communal feelings in my art is important to me. Whether I use the whole vine, the partially processed vine, or the completely processed fibers, kudzu is present throughout all of my pieces. Showing the versatility of kudzu is symbolic of the expansiveness of queerness and how queerness presents itself in many ways. 

The fishnets and weavings are motifs that are evident throughout my pieces. The kudzu weavings are more rendered and may appear more controlled in conjunction with the more chaotic vines. The weavings convey the comfort I feel by the queer community and how we are woven together. The choas of the vines symbolize the constant threat of eradication that both queerness and kudzu face while also showcasing the nonconformity that both proudly present. The fishnets depict the complicated feelings of what its like to be queer in this country. Netting both traps and catches, thus I have felt both trapped in heteronormativity and held by my community as well as feeling the comfort of knowing my queer identity. My work attempts to capture the complex feelings and experiences of being queer in this country and how my identity is treated similarly to an invasive species. 

What is the context of your artwork - how is it woven into a larger sphere of history, ideology, expectations and/or conventions? 

Kudzu Bodies: The Intersection Between Kudzu and Queerness explores the complicated relationship of queerness and the heteronormative society it exists in. The term "queer" is not to be confined to a singular identity, but to be recognized as a larger whole. It is an all-encompassing term that brings attention to the multitude of identities which do not align with cis-gendered heteronormativity. To fully embrace queerness is not just an acceptance of the nonconformity in terms of sexuality or gender, but rather a praxis in which people have implemented the act of queerness in their everyday lives. Leading a queer life would mean rejecting the expectations that were projected by heteronormativity, such as the idea that the nuclear family is one's only support system, or that people must live separate and individual lives and not in community with one another. The act of queering something takes the original expectation of that object and replaces it with unconventionality. This body of work combines the history of kudzu in Appalachia as well as its historical uses in Japan and China, and my queer identity along with the application of queer theory. Kudzu has many uses, however, these uses are not widely known to the American public because when the government deemed the plant as "invasive" in the 1970s, the excitement around it died.  The USDA's label of "invasive" generated a negativity that ultimately led to the hatred of the plant and the usefulness became overshadowed by the want of it out of American ecosystems. By using kudzu, a plant that is deemed as invasive and seen as something to be eradicated, I am creating a new narrative, one that both celebrates kudzu and my identity. 

Not only am I using kudzu as a metaphor for my own identity, but I am also showcasing multiple ways the plant can be used, such as the whole vines for weaving, or processing it into fibers. Queerness, similar to kudzu, is viewed by political and religious groups as a nuisance. There have been many attempts to eradicate queerness in the United States, such as laws that banned same-sex marriages, or even allowing queerness to be public, and even current laws that prohibit queerness being taught in schools, and the infamous "Don't Say Gay" law in Florida. Kudzu transforms landscapes and is remarkably resilient, just like queerness. Through my unconventional weavings of kudzu in combination with other materials such as steel and wood, I want queerness to take up space similar to how kudzu does naturally.