Featured Artist: Sheila Whitsett - 10.14.2009
Interview by: Gian Hunjan
Q: Hi Sheila, thanks for the feature. I’m noticing a common thread in some of your work is the fusion of fundamental pillars of nature with everyday man-made objects. For example, Don’t Walk and Log on Wheels each showcase typical items we encounter every single day, but rarely take into consideration their influence. If I were stumbling home from bingo night and there were no “Don’t Walk” signs, well I may just end up crossing Broad Street at the wrong time. What is your message when combining items like street signs and plants?
A: In my work I tend to take objects in and out of different contexts, creating different versions of reality or presenting something in a new point of view, something foreign that draws your attention and invites thought and discussion. Don’t Walk was a really simple gesture I made. I was interested in the simple act of creating this absurd image, but I was also at the time thinking about my own relationship to nature and how it feels extremely detached and foreign.
Q: In No Beuys Allowed you context the renowned Joseph Beuys. Is he an influence of yours? What is your reason for incorporating him in the title of your work?
A: I’m a huge fan of Beuys, although I wouldn’t necessarily say I think about him when I make work. I guess things have changed in this specific instance. The title actually came as a kind of after thought, really, and I was just thinking of that phrase as a pun (no boys allowed), but as soon as I titled it I realized the significance of the title in relation to the work. It has my own take on fat, felt, and fiction (ideas that Beuys himself embodies) and it really explores even further my interest in material usage. It also, I think, combines slow and fast movements in a way that I think brings complexity in my work.
Q: A photo that caught my eye was your untitled of the ceiling panels caving and creating a semi-sphere. How long did it take you to manipulate the panels and what is the effect you hope it has on people walking through the building? Are the panels sturdy enough to hold anyone inside? Almost like a makeshift corporate hammock?
A: This was actually a collaborative site-specific project. Because there were a few of us, it didn’t take long to make at all. There wasn’t much manipulation with the tiles, actually, but of course I won’t tell you how it was made because it ruins the magic! That’s one thing I am definitely interested in—illustration vs illusion and how it (the “softening,” or materialization) can change your perspective on the skins and structures of things by extending and reaching into those things we think of as fixed and stable. This piece was made at the old Tyler School of Art, and it was made to look like the ceiling was collapsing as a critique on the politics and architecture of the school. We put it up at midnight, accidentally guerilla-style (we thought we had gotten permission) and the custodians taped off the area and locked the front of the building because they thought the ceiling actually had caved in. The structure was sturdy, of course, but as ceiling tiles are quite easily broken, I would not recommend trying to contain yourself in such a space.
Q: When looking at Get It Get It I can’t help but think that the ladder is leading into the light, or coming down from it into the ground. In a greater scope, do you take into account where you place all of your pieces and the effect other pre-placed objects will have on them, such as the track lights on the ceiling?
A: Location and site-specificity have great importance in a lot of my work. In this case, I was just making an object and I photographed it in that spot because it looked compositionally sound. Over the summer I was at a fellowship for Yale University and made really quick sculptures. This was one of them. I was more concerned in my evolution of practice than I was in making a completely finished piece. Ideally, I think with that piece, it was centrally placed in a room to increase size in terms of your body’s relation to it. I was thinking a lot about illustrating and referencing an illusion of space more than anything.
Q: Sheila what is the mental process you take to arrive at your final pieces? Do you have a pre-conceived thought and then begin the hunt for fitting materials to bring your thought to fruition, or is it the other way around? What do you do if you can’t find the specific item you have in mind, or is it more about the thought than the individual aspects of it that bring a final piece together?
A: This is a really great question. My working process is in constant flux. It started out very sharp and neatly planned. Things were large and elaborate and needed a lot of time and finessing. I needed to have a very specific goal and idea in mind, but what ended up happening was that things would go wrong. Those things made the piece better, and I realized that my work had a lot to do with chance. I started to embrace that more in my work. In terms of material, I think my practice involves an equal level of looking for a specific object or material (note: I do not call these “items”) and acquiring things to later appropriate in my own way. So, sometimes seeing the object itself inspires the piece. If I can’t find the material I’m looking for, I problem solve and either move on to the next thing, keeping that idea in the back of my mind, or go ahead with the idea anyway, working with what I have, or trying to reference that object without its physical presence. Sometimes it’s as simple as responding to materials. Sometimes it’s more elaborate. All in all I’m trying to question reality of the materials, reality of the spaces they create, etc.
Q: Have you ever recorded any songs in your Sound Piece or was the only sound that came from it the collision between it and the ground as it collapsed? Did you design the booth so it could collapse equally and easily based on the design of its top being split into four equal quadrants?
A: That piece had no sound. It was misleading purposely. I called it “sound piece” and made it look like a “sound piece” (headphones). That girl in the picture went into the room expecting an intimate experience with the sound. When she pulled the headphones down over her head, however, a nail was pulled out, which was holding all of the walls together, and the room collapsed, exposing the girl for all to see. It wasn’t so much about exploitation, though, as it was about slapstick humor in conjunction with altering a person’s expectation of art interaction. I was also interested in different ways to experience the piece: as the participant and as the voyeur or bystander. The design of the room and figuring out a way to successfully hold the room together and release it just as easily was extremely time consuming but incredibly worthwhile. This was also what you call a one-shot deal. Once the walls were down, the piece was complete.
Q: The Pudding has also displayed a video you made called Allora. What is your message behind the video, and why no sound?
A: I’m dealing with absurdity (and humor), movement, and the body in terms of architecture, how it “fits.” It’s stop-motion, so it’s a photography project in its early stages, and I did not include sound because I wanted the focus to be on the motion. When I showed the work it was presented very small on a wall close to the floor. I wanted the viewer to be really engaged, so I made it a physical experience for them—you had to crouch down to see it. I liked the idea of leaving something out. Giving, but only so much, hence no sound.
A: In my work I tend to take objects in and out of different contexts, creating different versions of reality or presenting something in a new point of view, something foreign that draws your attention and invites thought and discussion. Don’t Walk was a really simple gesture I made. I was interested in the simple act of creating this absurd image, but I was also at the time thinking about my own relationship to nature and how it feels extremely detached and foreign.
Q: In No Beuys Allowed you context the renowned Joseph Beuys. Is he an influence of yours? What is your reason for incorporating him in the title of your work?
A: I’m a huge fan of Beuys, although I wouldn’t necessarily say I think about him when I make work. I guess things have changed in this specific instance. The title actually came as a kind of after thought, really, and I was just thinking of that phrase as a pun (no boys allowed), but as soon as I titled it I realized the significance of the title in relation to the work. It has my own take on fat, felt, and fiction (ideas that Beuys himself embodies) and it really explores even further my interest in material usage. It also, I think, combines slow and fast movements in a way that I think brings complexity in my work.
Q: A photo that caught my eye was your untitled of the ceiling panels caving and creating a semi-sphere. How long did it take you to manipulate the panels and what is the effect you hope it has on people walking through the building? Are the panels sturdy enough to hold anyone inside? Almost like a makeshift corporate hammock?
A: This was actually a collaborative site-specific project. Because there were a few of us, it didn’t take long to make at all. There wasn’t much manipulation with the tiles, actually, but of course I won’t tell you how it was made because it ruins the magic! That’s one thing I am definitely interested in—illustration vs illusion and how it (the “softening,” or materialization) can change your perspective on the skins and structures of things by extending and reaching into those things we think of as fixed and stable. This piece was made at the old Tyler School of Art, and it was made to look like the ceiling was collapsing as a critique on the politics and architecture of the school. We put it up at midnight, accidentally guerilla-style (we thought we had gotten permission) and the custodians taped off the area and locked the front of the building because they thought the ceiling actually had caved in. The structure was sturdy, of course, but as ceiling tiles are quite easily broken, I would not recommend trying to contain yourself in such a space.
Q: When looking at Get It Get It I can’t help but think that the ladder is leading into the light, or coming down from it into the ground. In a greater scope, do you take into account where you place all of your pieces and the effect other pre-placed objects will have on them, such as the track lights on the ceiling?
A: Location and site-specificity have great importance in a lot of my work. In this case, I was just making an object and I photographed it in that spot because it looked compositionally sound. Over the summer I was at a fellowship for Yale University and made really quick sculptures. This was one of them. I was more concerned in my evolution of practice than I was in making a completely finished piece. Ideally, I think with that piece, it was centrally placed in a room to increase size in terms of your body’s relation to it. I was thinking a lot about illustrating and referencing an illusion of space more than anything.
Q: Sheila what is the mental process you take to arrive at your final pieces? Do you have a pre-conceived thought and then begin the hunt for fitting materials to bring your thought to fruition, or is it the other way around? What do you do if you can’t find the specific item you have in mind, or is it more about the thought than the individual aspects of it that bring a final piece together?
A: This is a really great question. My working process is in constant flux. It started out very sharp and neatly planned. Things were large and elaborate and needed a lot of time and finessing. I needed to have a very specific goal and idea in mind, but what ended up happening was that things would go wrong. Those things made the piece better, and I realized that my work had a lot to do with chance. I started to embrace that more in my work. In terms of material, I think my practice involves an equal level of looking for a specific object or material (note: I do not call these “items”) and acquiring things to later appropriate in my own way. So, sometimes seeing the object itself inspires the piece. If I can’t find the material I’m looking for, I problem solve and either move on to the next thing, keeping that idea in the back of my mind, or go ahead with the idea anyway, working with what I have, or trying to reference that object without its physical presence. Sometimes it’s as simple as responding to materials. Sometimes it’s more elaborate. All in all I’m trying to question reality of the materials, reality of the spaces they create, etc.
Q: Have you ever recorded any songs in your Sound Piece or was the only sound that came from it the collision between it and the ground as it collapsed? Did you design the booth so it could collapse equally and easily based on the design of its top being split into four equal quadrants?
A: That piece had no sound. It was misleading purposely. I called it “sound piece” and made it look like a “sound piece” (headphones). That girl in the picture went into the room expecting an intimate experience with the sound. When she pulled the headphones down over her head, however, a nail was pulled out, which was holding all of the walls together, and the room collapsed, exposing the girl for all to see. It wasn’t so much about exploitation, though, as it was about slapstick humor in conjunction with altering a person’s expectation of art interaction. I was also interested in different ways to experience the piece: as the participant and as the voyeur or bystander. The design of the room and figuring out a way to successfully hold the room together and release it just as easily was extremely time consuming but incredibly worthwhile. This was also what you call a one-shot deal. Once the walls were down, the piece was complete.
Q: The Pudding has also displayed a video you made called Allora. What is your message behind the video, and why no sound?
A: I’m dealing with absurdity (and humor), movement, and the body in terms of architecture, how it “fits.” It’s stop-motion, so it’s a photography project in its early stages, and I did not include sound because I wanted the focus to be on the motion. When I showed the work it was presented very small on a wall close to the floor. I wanted the viewer to be really engaged, so I made it a physical experience for them—you had to crouch down to see it. I liked the idea of leaving something out. Giving, but only so much, hence no sound.
Image Key:
1. 700
2. All Fall Down
3. Desperate Pleasures
4. Don't Walk
5. Log on Wheels
6. No Beuys Allowed
7. Sound Piece Collapsing
8. Sound Piece
9. Spineless Orogeny
10. Spineless Orogeny detail
11. Untitled photo with log and packing peanuts
12. Untitled
13. Get It Get It
2. All Fall Down
3. Desperate Pleasures
4. Don't Walk
5. Log on Wheels
6. No Beuys Allowed
7. Sound Piece Collapsing
8. Sound Piece
9. Spineless Orogeny
10. Spineless Orogeny detail
11. Untitled photo with log and packing peanuts
12. Untitled
13. Get It Get It
