https://biomasssss.com BIOMASS Mon, 03 Jun 2024 21:31:45 +0000 https://biomasssss.com en https://biomasssss.com/Header-Desktop Mon, 03 Jun 2024 21:31:45 +0000 BIOMASS https://biomasssss.com/Header-Desktop &nbsp;ABOUT ARCHIVE CONTACT&nbsp; BIOMASS&nbsp; <img width="1500" height="1125" width_o="1500" height_o="1125" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9a17346306a369e8e8dad3af7adfd45cd27e30ea23e297d36bae260c3e955f31/Annie-Kierans_Chudnovsky_Leftover_-72dpi_3.jpg" data-mid="244212665" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9a17346306a369e8e8dad3af7adfd45cd27e30ea23e297d36bae260c3e955f31/Annie-Kierans_Chudnovsky_Leftover_-72dpi_3.jpg" /> Emily Chudnovsky, Leftover, 2020, recycled paper pulp-cotton grass, wood-shavings and sawdust, piping, car parts, electrical wire. Volume 1 https://biomasssss.com/About Fri, 06 Nov 2020 20:50:11 +0000 BIOMASS https://biomasssss.com/About BIOMASS&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Is an arts periodical that produces volumes on artistic praxis through featured exhibitions, recordings and artist interviews. Exploring artmaking through the interconnected life cycles of material, energy, and community, BIOMASS sheds light on the realities of creative labour for working artists. In depth conversations with featured artists share alternative pathways toward creative agency and art-making that take context into account. In light of mass environmental degradation, and the need for equitable social change across all fields and industries, artistic practices can offer a unique training ground for transformative and provocative invitations. BIOMASS emphasizes artistic practices as case studies for living and creating in more sustainable, holistic or realistic ways. The term biomass has a multifold meaning. It refers to an accumulated mass of organisms in situ that supports biodiversity and traps carbon polution. However in the energy industry, the term has been co-opted to describe forms of “waste material” that is burned en masse to create electricity. The word’s etymology is more overt,&nbsp;bio meaning life and mass, volume. From these layered meanings we find an expandable terminology that may address issues of burnout, waste, reuse and regeneration in the field of creative labour. By focusing on the realities of artmaking in daily life, BIOMASS shares work by artists whose approach to creative, monetary,&nbsp;personal and political constraints have developed creative agency to working within them.&nbsp; BIOMASS is an independent project created by Liljana Mead Martin. <img width="808" height="1024" width_o="808" height_o="1024" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/68f82b24d572bc41678b8a60e006117436ca02506cc315639aa002a487b5a365/big_444081.jpg" data-mid="128639779" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/808/i/68f82b24d572bc41678b8a60e006117436ca02506cc315639aa002a487b5a365/big_444081.jpg" /> Image: Radial longitudinal section (RLS) of Viburnum wood showing inter-vessel pits and scalariform perforation plates. Comparative wood anatomy of&nbsp;Viburnum L. (Adoxaceae) and its taxonomic implication. Study by: Balkrishna Ghimire, Dong Chan Son, Beom Kyun Park, Seung-Hwan Oh. https://biomasssss.com/Archive Thu, 30 Dec 2021 20:23:44 +0000 BIOMASS https://biomasssss.com/Archive Volume 3 Shay Salehi Sarah Davidson Emily Chudnovsky Volume 2 Natalie Purschwitz Andrew Lee Sol Hashemi Volume 1 Eve Tagny Alexis L.-Grisé Liljana Mead Martin Emily Chudnovsky Steven Cottingham Justin Apperley https://biomasssss.com/Contact Fri, 06 Nov 2020 20:50:10 +0000 BIOMASS https://biomasssss.com/Contact CONTACT Email liljanameadmartin@gmail.com IG @b.i.o.m.a.s.s.s <img width="450" height="344" width_o="450" height_o="344" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3f8beb877c1f2c017298df06def487c48644b17f97c7721e42cd3a131778074e/larv-side-beads-d869-450.jpg" data-mid="128640462" border="0" data-scale="100" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/450/i/3f8beb877c1f2c017298df06def487c48644b17f97c7721e42cd3a131778074e/larv-side-beads-d869-450.jpg" /> Image:&nbsp; How giant larvaceans transport microplastics into the deep sea,&nbsp;from the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute, 2016. Under Principal Engineer Kakani Katija. Red and green microplastic beads surround the inner filter of a giant larvacean, whose blue head is just visible to the right of the filter. Image © 2016 MBARI. https://biomasssss.com/Volume-III Fri, 31 Dec 2021 00:13:56 +0000 BIOMASS https://biomasssss.com/Volume-III Volume 3 Shay Salehi Sarah Davidson Emily Chudnovsky Volume 3: mud puddling, brings together the artistic practices of Shay Salehi, Sarah Davidson, and Emily Chudnovsky. Each artist offers personal insight on creative, material, and community based research, and various strategies for building resiliency for creative work, touching on complexities of human and non-human relationships. A combination of daily practices and personal approaches to finding creative nutrients in dry times brings hope where the competitive narrative of hustle culture has brought exhaustion. Created instead is a space where the natural world is key to sustainable practice, and where meaningfully engaged community connections and self-regulation are survival skills. Each artist attends to cultural narratives that accompany ecologically informed creative work, embracing reflective and nurturing approaches. The term “mud puddling” in reference to Salehi’s collaborative kinetic sculpture installation Human in the Loop (2023), brings interesting critique to technological participants in our shared ecosystems, grounding these practices in uniquely adapted resource sharing. Shay Salehi (she/her) explores the complexities of human-nonhuman relationships through her interdisciplinary practice. Her work critiques the frameworks that perpetuate human superiority and the commodification of non-human bodies. Using visual metaphors, Shay invites audiences to contemplate themes of dominance, domestication, and ethical standards. Her background in glasswork, sculpture, and installation enables her to create compelling pieces that question and dismantle normative structures. Sarah Davidson (they/them) navigates the realms of drawing and painting, creating compositions where shadowy, biomorphic figures and delicate, foliated fragments intermingle. Their work examines the intersections of bodies, environments, and the tangled connections that bind them, all through a queer ecological lens. By dissolving the boundaries between self and other, Sarah's art invites viewers to reconsider their perceptions of nature and identity, encouraging a deeper, more fluid understanding of the natural world. Emily Chudnovsky (she/her) collects organic remnants and synthetic decay to craft sculpture-based installations that reveal human connections to toxic ecologies. Her practice underscores the cyclical nature of non-biodegradables, the intermingling of fiber and function. Chudnovsky’s meticulous process brings attention to overlooked aspects of our daily material use, our environmentally entangled lifestyles, and the need to foster greater appreciation for the interconnectedness of all things. <img width="850" height="790" width_o="850" height_o="790" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0c0ee4988e0e032382511f9ee93a33ae28f27859bb1e7c5da62215ccee8d587a/A-selection-of-butterflies-from-different-families-engaging-in-marine-puddling-Marine.png" data-mid="213076407" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/850/i/0c0ee4988e0e032382511f9ee93a33ae28f27859bb1e7c5da62215ccee8d587a/A-selection-of-butterflies-from-different-families-engaging-in-marine-puddling-Marine.png" />A selection of butterflies from different families engaging in ‘marine puddling’. Marine puddling was observed from members of all butterfly families found on Sulawesi except Riodinidae (representatives of Hesperiidae not pictured). (A-J) Papilionidae, in order of inset letters: Papilio gigon gigon, P. demoleus demoleus, P. sataspes sataspes, P. fuscus minor, Graphium rhesus rhesus, G. milon milon, G. eurypylus pamphylus, G. meyeri meyeri, G. codrus celebensis, and G. agamemnon comodus; (K-N) Pieridae: Catopsilia pomona flava, Cepora celebensis celebensis, Hebomoia glaucippe celebensis, Appias zarinda zarinda; (O-R) Nymphalidae: Vindula dejone celebensis, Cyrestis thyonneus celebensis, Doleschallia polibete celebensis, Euploea eupator eupator (S-T) Lycaenidae: Anthene lycaenina, Catochrysops ancyra subfestivus. Photographs by Yi-Kai Tea, Jonathan Soong Wei, and Cheong Weei Gan. https://biomasssss.com/Volume-II Mon, 20 May 2024 21:07:43 +0000 BIOMASS https://biomasssss.com/Volume-II Volume 2 Natalie Purschwitz Andrew Lee Sol Hashemi Volume 2: everlasting accumulation delves into the intricate processes and diverse motivations behind the works of our featured artists. What sustains something everlasting? Movement? Fragmentation? or fermentation? Each artist explores themes of diasporic histories, recorded processes, and object collections, revealing how their unique assemblages of skills shape their art. From brewing, weaving, video collage, sound composition, and material collections... their practices seamlessly blend the everyday, the historical, and the ephemeral with the personal and vital. What new experiences, perspectives, or motivations emerge through the reading, listening, immersion, or even consumption of these artworks? These convesations and featured artworks&nbsp; uncovers how each artist maintains fluid approaches and sustains creative vitality in their practice and work tangibly with the impressions that remain. What do we make of our every-day accumulations? When do objects filter into personal history and belief? What is the foundation of our attachments? Existentially, there is no one answer here, but through these questions we find an invitation for layered meanings, beyond the object-self, where dynamic processes define an everlasting contemporary.“ Thinking through salvage rhythms changes our vision. Industrial work no longer charts the future. Livlihoods are various, cobbled together, and often temporary. People come to them for diverse reasons and only rarely because they offer the stable wages-and-benefits packages of twentieth century dreams. I have suggested we watch patches of livelihood come into being as assemblages. Participants come with varied agendas, which do their small part in guiding world-making projects.” - Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing. The Mushroom at the End of the World. <img width="1920" height="1080" width_o="1920" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d039ff290019f134758917f76cdd01c68907d95ca1ca9b4b7fa1b537b7bd8ffc/3a.jpg" data-mid="213071551" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/d039ff290019f134758917f76cdd01c68907d95ca1ca9b4b7fa1b537b7bd8ffc/3a.jpg" /> Andrew Lee. The Syncretic Agora Of The Song Or Nothing Happened. I Burst Apart. Now The Fragments Have Been Put Together Again By Another Self, 2021. Video still. Color, sound. 17:35 &nbsp; <img width="1800" height="1199" width_o="1800" height_o="1199" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/00f396ad96d50e8322d89334d5e4ad18f1a0f69163e37637ebad1e312ceb5c68/exh_2021b_mfa-23.jpg" data-mid="213071552" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/00f396ad96d50e8322d89334d5e4ad18f1a0f69163e37637ebad1e312ceb5c68/exh_2021b_mfa-23.jpg" />Natalie Purschwitz. Installation detail. Unknown Variables. mixed media. 2021 https://biomasssss.com/Volume-I Mon, 20 May 2024 21:05:29 +0000 BIOMASS https://biomasssss.com/Volume-I Volume 1 Eve Tagny Alexis Auréoline Liljana Mead Martin Emily Chudnovsky Steven Cottingham Justin Apperley The inaugural BIOMASS exhibition, Volume 1: The lifecycle of an average star, showcases the multifaceted practices of artists Eve Tagny, Alexis Auréoline, Liljana Mead Martin, Emily Chudnovsky, Steven Cottingham, and Justin Apperley. Each artist's work reflects a deep engagement with the search for magic and a situated alchemy. This array of artworks and practices transition between lived research, documentation, dance, digital realism, and new materialism, illustrating the opportunity for diverse methodologies and inspirations that drive contemporary artistic labor. In dialogue with these artists, a system unfolds for the reader. Creative process is a strange type of magic, one that responds to everything you offer to it, through an interplay of research, practice, and material transformation that characterizes the lifecycle of art-making. Here artists spill the tea on the intricate and often unseen labor that fuels the artistic process, offering glimpses into the lives of contemporary working artists. “Magic is premised on the belief that the world is animated, unpredictable, and that there is a force in all things.” - Silvia Federici <img width="1060" height="1061" width_o="1060" height_o="1061" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a0bb0a3f4c5faa6c11ddb37499130c98e42d8fa85c5d1b28098d52e8df79fc3e/life-cycle-of-an-average-star-planetary-nebula.jpg" data-mid="213071374" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a0bb0a3f4c5faa6c11ddb37499130c98e42d8fa85c5d1b28098d52e8df79fc3e/life-cycle-of-an-average-star-planetary-nebula.jpg" /> Image: Lifecycle of an average star Credit: X-ray: NASA/CXC/RIT/J.KastnerFour planetary nebulae are shown here from the first systematic survey of dying stars in the solar neighborhood using the Chandra X-Ray Observatory. X-ray emission from Chandra is colored purple and optical emission from the Hubble Space Telescope is colored red, green and blue. The nebulae are named NGC 6543, also known as the Cat's Eye, NGC 7662, NGC 7009 and NGC 6826. https://biomasssss.com/Shay-Salehi Mon, 03 Jun 2024 18:02:07 +0000 BIOMASS https://biomasssss.com/Shay-Salehi Shay Salehi <img width="1500" height="1000" width_o="1500" height_o="1000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/703ad0ed2d5647a99399d6aece32b82819fc4004126df6d3e6f72dcdf4939803/NatureoftheSelf_image2.jpg" data-mid="213806397" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/703ad0ed2d5647a99399d6aece32b82819fc4004126df6d3e6f72dcdf4939803/NatureoftheSelf_image2.jpg" /> Shay Salehi.&nbsp;Human in the Loop, 2023. Silicone, motor, gears, stainless steel, steel, cable.Made in collaboration with Gina D'Aloisio. Kinetic assistance from Cody Frost. <img width="3000" height="2000" width_o="3000" height_o="2000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/32bd2fa84f312088f155553f52333f90e66d161df4e08e23c8c1788768996ba1/NatureoftheSelf_image3.jpg" data-mid="213806398" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/32bd2fa84f312088f155553f52333f90e66d161df4e08e23c8c1788768996ba1/NatureoftheSelf_image3.jpg" /> BIOMASS: Let’s begin on a joyful note. What quality or experience do you think brings you back into the studio again and again? SALEHI: At this point, I have been working as an artist for 10 years, and I don't see any alternative. I am an artist, this is what I do. And that relationship can be a complicated one. There's times where I'm not in the studio and I feel guilty that I'm not in the studio. I've started to realize everything we do as artists feeds into our practice. So even when I'm camping or doing anything in daily life, I'm also researching at the same time. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; [cat enters screen, walks across computer] Oh, sorry, I have a cat and she definitely wants to be around this. I think in the moments when I'm not physically in the studio, or feeling inspired, I’ve learned to be patient with myself, because whatever I'm doing, I probably need that time to be out of the studio and focus on just living. And usually, at the point when I start to get anxious about not being in the studio, something just clicks. I've begun to trust that process. I'll find something inspiring that I want to hyperfocus on, and I will start researching. And when that moment does click, I'm ready to enter this flow of creating artwork. That’s usually the beginning stages of my excitement to get back in the studio. BIOMASS: I was recently looking into the difference between destructive anxiety and productive anxiety, and I'm curious have you found that line? Or is it more intuitive? SALEHI: I think the answer ties into mental health. As a creative it's normal to go through moments of imposter syndrome and feeling displaced or like we don't fit in. I definitely still experience destructive anxiety, but I think now I'm able to just be like, ‘Oh yeah, that's there.’ I know it exists and being more familiar with it as an element in my relationship with my practice gives me more control over it and makes it easier to manage. Being located in New York City is so fantastic as an artist because there is such a large community here. But at the same time, it can be intimidating and odd to witness the capitalist side of the art market that can be very apparent here. Recognizing that this artist occupation doesn't really fit in the structure of capitalism, I often remind myself to stay grounded and true to my practice. It’s like&nbsp; ‘Okay, you're doing something different, and that's okay’. BIOMASS: You are now emerging from an arts education, and you also have training and skill in craft. How has that background informed your work? And I guess now, completing an MFA, how do you reflect on those years of education? SALEHI: Yeah, I started out making work in a 3 year diploma program focused in glass and I didn't really know what I was doing. I was fresh out of high school and quite young. I think having roots in craft was actually an incredible experience because the craft community is so warm and it made me feel really safe to grow and explore. If it wasn't for those relationships I developed in those early years, I don't know that I'd be where I am today. My experience with my glass diploma led me to continue my education, but I wanted to move away from craft toward making art. I think my roots in craft is something I often bring into my practice, for instance, my relationship with metal working. I do strive to make materially refined work even though that’s not the dominant requirement when making an artwork. When I decided to go back to school to complete my BFA at OCAD University, I already knew I wanted to complete my Masters degree. I’m very grateful for my parents, both being immigrants to Canada, for their support and sacrifice, as I’m the first in my family to have received a Masters degree. I was also quite fortunate to receive financial support from the Canadian provincial government and a scholarship to attend a graduate school in New York, so for me, an art education was a positive investment. After grad school I am definitely feeling more confident in my artistic voice and with my background with craft I am also blessed to carry with me a range of material knowledge. <img width="1500" height="1000" width_o="1500" height_o="1000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f138b7e51adf3527fa19a1ca133748541f1a74afabeda16798ea01a5f66fe92f/NatureoftheSelf_image7.jpg" data-mid="213806403" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f138b7e51adf3527fa19a1ca133748541f1a74afabeda16798ea01a5f66fe92f/NatureoftheSelf_image7.jpg" /> <img width="1500" height="1000" width_o="1500" height_o="1000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/95538852aa786af3f21dbea7da2e11cd0598f72470fdf56304f2d61adf7ef34a/NatureoftheSelf_image4.jpg" data-mid="213806399" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/95538852aa786af3f21dbea7da2e11cd0598f72470fdf56304f2d61adf7ef34a/NatureoftheSelf_image4.jpg" /> BIOMASS: Thank you for sharing that, it’s valuable for people to hear what it takes sometimes to get access to higher education in the arts. Often, that support is opaque, where it comes from or how the whole thing works. Were there elements of how you grew up, that caused you to ask certain questions around, like ethical standards and questions of hierarchy, dominance? Themes that emerge throughout many of your artworks. I don't know if it's something that you can make a direct comparison with, but I think it's interesting, because these hierarchies are part of our social and capitalist structure.&nbsp; SALEHI: It's so interesting, my relationship to mental health has progressed through the years as my artist practice has progressed, and they've kind of been parallel with each other. So there's a lot of ties there. This kind of isn't direct to the question, but growing up with immigrants has taught me that struggle, what people go through when they're coming to Canada, or to North America for a better future or whatnot. And I think, again, not specifically answering the question, but just like growing up witnessing what my parents went through as like English being their second language. My Mother is Polish and my Dad is Iranian, for context. So my Mom has a background of World War Two, and her family has history there. And my Father grew up amidst the Islamic Revolution. So these are really dense histories. And, and then yeah, I guess just growing up around that and understanding how much work they put in to create stability, and then that is reflected in a way, my own work ethic that I'm like, “Okay, I'm going to do this.” But in terms of the ethical side, I don't know if I can draw a direct comparison. Currently my practice has become really interested in the human to non-human boundary, through the lens of exploitation, because I think the human to non-human, the human to animal boundary holds a deep relationship with exploitation. BIOMASS: When I look at your work, and in particular the Human in the Loop, it brings up so many questions and synchronicities between other projects you have made. We are in the midst of a mass extinction event, right now. And forms of life, such as insects and pollinators are greatly affected in this particular moment. One could also make the argument that we're under existential threat due to human-caused climate change. There are these overarching themes within your practice that pose a kind of consistent question… there is a reframing that happens materially and technologically wherein your experimentation with different types of animal produced byproducts, or in the case of Road Casualties I-80, wolf and other animal carcasses are documented via Google maps on roadsides, to Humans in the Loop, where this macabre depiction of a human carcass is replacing the animal, and the body horror is flipped back and forth between human and animal. There is this finality to the digital insect feeding on a “human” carcass. To bring this back to your process, I would love to hear where the idea started for the Human in the Loop and what the collaborative process was like?&nbsp; SALEHI: Yes. Thank you so much for appreciating the work. I’m so interested in our relationship with our environment and the other beings within it and as the environment itself is changing so does that relationship. I approach this through the lens that is witness to the standardization of non-human species. My work draws from the exploitation of non-human beings to analyze the human-animal boundary. We typically don’t see how things are produced and now we are well into seeing the effects of production on our climate which in turn has a direct impact on the beings living off the land. As you said, this work is flipping the narrative so that it's feeding off of the human, at the same time, considering our relationship to technology, and how technology is altering what our relationship to our environment is. It’s really interesting living in New York because in the city I have such little access to nature, if any, and then spending this month at the Banff Centre completely surrounded by nature was a great place to focus on making this piece. As I was at the Banff Centre, spending more time in the most beautiful scenery, I realized in my day to day life in New York, I don't do that, and I don't have access to that. Instead, coming out of graduate school, I have a more intimate relationship with my laptop and phone than the natural world and the work sits at this intersection between nature, the self and technology. I originally wanted to challenge myself in this kinetic butterfly piece, but once it was completed I was like, Okay, now what to do with this? A friend who saw the butterfly told me about this phenomenon in butterflies known as mud puddling. That’s when I wanted to push the work a bit further and reached out to Gina, my collaborator on the project. Gina has a background in hyper realistic silicone sculptures. I thought it would be interesting for us to combine our skills into making this piece between the flesh, or flesh- like silicone, and the rigidity in the polished stainless steel. For me, metal has frequently returned to my practice because I feel it accurately reflects the standardization that we see in both animal agriculture and technology, so it feels that it naturally ties into my work. BIOMASS: What is your relationship to collaboration, and what perspectives has that offered you as a maker? SALEHI: I really like working with people. I generally don’t like to be alone in the studio as I find it very lonely. So I often collaborate with other artists. Collaborating with me can be anything from getting fabrication advice from somebody or talking to close friends about ideas and topics that appear in my work. For example, I have a very good friend who works for this animal rights organization based in Toronto and I’m frequently bouncing conceptual dialogue with them. I consider that to be a form of collaboration. In this piece, there's a 50/50, both of us are putting the time in fabricating and contributing to the work. I really just want to team up with people and work with people. Specifically in making this work, Human in the Loop, with Gina D'Aloisio, we were not living in the same city. So that residency was the perfect opportunity to work side by side on a piece. I will say, that the time during a residency is so condensed. I was hopeful that we could have spent more intimate time in the production of each other's process but when you’re in a five week residency with the goal to have some finished work it flies by! There were aspects of the work where we wanted to play more, and that is kind of bittersweet. BIOMASS: Like the work itself in a way to though, there is both warmth and isolation, perhaps due to the materials, perhaps due to the elements of body horror, and just this combination of the fleshy hyper-realism with the mechanical timing. This Frankensteinian butterfly... when you listen to the video, the sound adds such texture. I can’t help but notice the sci-fi and dystopic horror, there was a cinematic quality to the installation. The visceral experience of looking at a work is obviously very, very different from the process of actually making something. Can any artist really control the outcome of what happens from a creative project? I'm curious if in your practice, you've learned some strategies for yourself to kind of enter into that space? SALEHI: This specific project was so unique. We were hopeful to play around a bit and find something unexpected, but it ended up being very rigid to get to what we want. And we got what we wanted. Generally it's like, in the process, something else kind of forms or there's some happy accidents that forms as you make the work. It felt we just had such a clear vision that we're like, oh, this is it, we just need to put it together. I definitely think in working with the kinetics, which I kind of do here and there. I'm very amateur, like a hobbyist I have no idea what I'm doing, [laughter] which can also be brave to take on. I do find joy in it, I guess maybe I enjoy the challenge. I think that's where the craftsperson in me comes out. When you work with kinetics, there's always this audio that just naturally happens when something moves, thats sort of unpredictable, or I just don’t really consider in the early stages. I think when we had all these butterflies moving like that alone, yeah, it does create this fuller population. The audio definitely activates the work. And really it's unintentional, because, you know, you can't make it silent. Like there has to be a sound when the pieces are actually moving. It adds an additional layer to the work and maybe the whole time I was waiting for this happy accident and once everything was powered on that was the moment that I was like, oh, yeah. This activation in the metal that you're not focusing becomes a whole other layer to the work that you kind of forget about until the very end. <img width="3000" height="2101" width_o="3000" height_o="2101" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5430b06732f4e74d46c6f3eabfd491e2d0f20645e35bf2df2414da9292d0ee0e/NatureoftheSelf_image1.jpg" data-mid="213806396" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/5430b06732f4e74d46c6f3eabfd491e2d0f20645e35bf2df2414da9292d0ee0e/NatureoftheSelf_image1.jpg" />Shay Salehi. Human in the Loop, 2023. Silicone, motor, gears, stainless steel, steel, cable.Made in collaboration with Gina D'Aloisio. Kinetic assistance from Cody Frost. BIOMASS: I do think that cumulively, with more experience and the more time an artist commits to the process, strategies emerge. Buoyancy, resilience, strategies or useful habits emerge. And&nbsp; there's the other side of that as well. We touched on mental health, which I think is a really important facet to what you have noticed in terms of resiliency tools. When you reflect on the past few years, what didn’t work? And what was clearly not a sustainable approach for you in your artmaking? SALEHI: Well, I was supposed to go to grad school and covid happened so I deferred for a year, and that whole year I didn’t make anything, and then when I got to Grad School I hadn’t made anything in a year and I just wondered do I even know how to do this anymore? I kind of had this year off, and that whole year I didn’t make anything. Then when I got to grad school I hadn’t made art for a year, and had a lot of anxiety around whether I can still do this. We go through stages as artists, and it’s totally fine to take a year off. Even when you're taking time off, it's going to feed back into your practice in a meaningful way. It’s a stage. We go through stages as artists like with anything else, and it’s totally ok to take a year off. You as a person is what makes up your practice, so what you do in your offtime feeds back into your work. When you make or finish a work, there is this little high, this little validation, maybe a grant or a show. But the majority of the time you are not in that stage, and you have to validate yourself. That is probably the hardest thing to learn, to continue to self-validate and self-regulate. BIOMASS: So, what is coming up for you next? At what stage do you feel you are at now in your process? SALEHI: I finished school, so yay! That was a big accomplishment. I’m applying for an 01 to stay in New York, we’ll see. I have a show coming up with this project, so that’s great. Reflecting back I never thought I would come to New York and get a full scholarship to go to grad school. I never thought I would get to do a residency at the Banff Center, I don’t think I necessarily saw these things coming. I think I’m at a new point in my career now, where I’m like “what is coming next?” I don’t really know yet – but given the pattern I know something cool is gonna happen. [smiles] I’m ready for whatever comes next, I’m ready to make new work. Shay Salehi (she/her) is an interdisciplinary New York based artist exploring the complexities of human to nonhuman relationships. Anchored by a passion against animal exploitation, Shay investigates the framework&nbsp;that enforces human superiority and the ownership and capitalization of non-human animal bodies. Her practice is a visual metaphor that analyzes outdated habits and challenges normative societal structures. Through this work, she provides the audience with an opportunity to contemplate themes such as dominance, domestication and the experience of deciphering our ethical standards. In 2020, Shay received a BFA from the Ontario College of Art and Design (OCADU) in Sculpture and Installation. Previous to OCADU, Shay studied glasswork at Sheridan College (2011-2014), and continues to make sculptural glasswork. In 2023, she completed an MFA in Fine Art at Parsons New School in Manhattan, New York. https://biomasssss.com/Sarah-Davidson Mon, 20 May 2024 23:56:11 +0000 BIOMASS https://biomasssss.com/Sarah-Davidson Sarah Davidson <img width="1187" height="1500" width_o="1187" height_o="1500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c4d529af49762aca188fc2c57c3ff0c3adee96d1abd4b49caee0635826f91c91/05_SarahDavidson.jpg" data-mid="211302871" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c4d529af49762aca188fc2c57c3ff0c3adee96d1abd4b49caee0635826f91c91/05_SarahDavidson.jpg" /> Sarah Davidson.&nbsp;The Gynandromorph, oil on panel, 46 x 59 in, 2023. BIOMASS: I'm so glad that we are having this conversation today. Are you currently in your studio? SARAH DAVIDSON: Yes, I'm in my studio in Brooklyn. Well, technically it's in Ridgewood, Queens, but right on the border. I’m looking out at beautiful gray New York. BIOMASS: I would love to dig into your recent exhibition Fingery Eyes. Could you describe your drawings and paintings for those less familiar with your work? DAVIDSON: In terms of what they look like, I would describe them as a combination of biomorphic abstraction, and recognizable things borrowed from a tradition of natural history illustration. There's a recognizable drawing style that I think, even if you don't know the specific people I'm pointing to, reads as the type of illustrations you would see in a field guide, and has lots of saturated color. I've recently been obsessed with eyeballs, because I've been thinking a lot about observation. So I thought, at some point a few years ago, it would be productively uncanny if the work suggested that it was looking back by having eyes in it. So all the work in Fingery Eyes had eyeballs somewhere in the composition. They're generally non-human eyes,&nbsp; they're almost all frog eyeballs, some are stylized human eyeballs, and some of them are just abstract, spherical forms that maybe could be eyes. I also riff, compositionally, on the idea of an eyeball. There is also a back and forth between abstraction and figuration, and it’s unclear if what you're looking at exists on a human scale, or if it's microscopic, or if it's an insect. I like that sort of ambiguity. BIOMASS: Yeah, I really enjoy how the work kind of confronts you with these eyeballs and how you play with micro scales in your paintings. When I am looking at these works, sometimes the work has these enmeshed, organic layers that open up into holes. And sometimes those holes are filled with unexpected details or phenomena. And it has a similar experience to when you're in a wilderness thicket, or when you're looking closely at organic or natural phenomena and discovering the details of something in that way. When the eyeballs appear however, there's a forced self-awareness that kicks in, a flip occurs and the work looks back. How would you describe that process of creating this visual language? And in particular, how did you develop your sketches and field notes? DAVIDSON: The work has evolved over time. I worked as a nature guide, in very remote parts of the wilderness all over North America and Scandinavia for 10 years. That was the initial place where this work started evolving, because I would draw from observation during these work trips. I didn't necessarily think of it as my art practice, but I have all these notebooks with observational drawings. Alongside that, I would just arbitrarily draw shapes, these little biomorphic blobs, and then fill them in with observations of what I was looking at. This usually happened while I was sitting on the ground, waiting for people to get ready. So, it's the kind of stuff that you find on the ground, not landscape drawings, things like pine cones, bits of foliage. Things that are recognizable sometimes, also textures. At this same time, I was teaching species ID and environmental studies, thinking about the history of the idea of wilderness. The more you learn – depending on your code of ethics – about the history of the idea of wilderness in North America, or the history of the idea of ‘nature’, like the separation between humans and other-than-human forms, and the kind of ideologies that have shaped wilderness in North America, the more you feel conflicted. For instance, North American ‘wilderness’ is often contingent on there not being indigenous people present, which is of course, not true. The idea of ‘nature’ is also often defined in opposition to what is considered ‘unnatural’, which means this concept of nature has often been used to exclude queer people and non-white people. As I was learning more, I was also looking at these beautiful illustrated field guides in order to teach people about natural history. So, there is a lot of ambivalence there for me, because I'm really drawn to those illustrative languages visually, but also I understand them as being wrapped up in this complicated, and often harmful way of separating ourselves from the world. So for me, the mode I'm working in is a way of using some of that visual language to create these more immersive worlds. Where you're enmeshed as a viewer, and the bodies that are suggested in the works (human and non-human) are interacting in ways that are intentionally confusing. For me, that's more accurate and more interesting. It is a reflection of my ambivalence. I'm drawn to those visuals, but I can't just recreate them, I have to put them in a more complicated context. <img width="1140" height="1500" width_o="1140" height_o="1500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/00b3f4432471740cd443fb6f636dc5eccbba461f6ba5e80ca7437a0f0f577a8f/04_SarahDavidson.jpg" data-mid="211302872" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/00b3f4432471740cd443fb6f636dc5eccbba461f6ba5e80ca7437a0f0f577a8f/04_SarahDavidson.jpg" />Bent Branch, oil on panel, 35 x 46.5 in, 2023 BIOMASS: Yes, I really appreciate the acknowledgement of those flattened histories through early scientific illustrations or like, colonial bioprospecting and how that frames our perspectives on shared ecosystems. I'm curious if you are referencing some of these violent histories, is that where the dripping blood comes from? DAVIDSON: You mean the blood drops in the paintings? No, I hadn't really thought of it that way. I mean, I'm not opposed to that reading at all. Honestly, I was thinking of them more in the sense that, I've been including bodily elements like the eyeballs because I'm curious about body horror, or cartoony ways of treating the body, which are all body horror because you're abstracting parts of the body, like an eye popping out or a tongue. I use some of the strategies that cartoons do, because I don't want the work to be totally grotesque, but I do want it to be uncanny. Basically, I want people to get into looking at it before they realize what they're looking at, which might be a blood drop or a disembodied eye filled with insects. So the blood drops, I wasn't thinking of in a historical way, I was interested in how creepy it is and how true it is, to be crossing boundaries like skin. BIOMASS: Yeah, there are multiple access points for interpretation. I mean, from a distance the work has these magnetic, high chroma, vivid images. At the same time, complicating that relationship for the viewer is an interesting trick or disorientation of scale. I think it allows for, yeah, multiple different readings and new understandings of the subject matter. DAVIDSON: There's also this through-line of butterflies and moths, which I’ve included for the last few years in the work. Partly because they often have these deceptive eye patterns on their wings, which was interesting to me. There is also a personal angle; one of the major questions that's at stake in the work for me right now is thinking through my own experiences as a trans non-binary person, and transitioning during the pandemic. Part of the work is just expressing that experience, and there may be an overly obvious metaphor, in these beautiful bugs that transform. But also, the kind of conceptual question there is: how do you articulate a queer or trans perspective in work that doesn't really depict humans? Metaphorically or literally, there are animals that are arguably queer or trans in different ways. But I’m also thinking about it abstractly, in this painting vocabulary that's really emphasizing transformation and the porousness of boundaries between different forms and different bodies. So that's in there as well, but it's a working question. <img width="1113" height="1500" width_o="1113" height_o="1500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/77f9129c5839687b30dc9e9d61ee2a0ee8a33b2ddd7217da1db572d5b92ce834/06_SarahDavidson.jpg" data-mid="211302870" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/77f9129c5839687b30dc9e9d61ee2a0ee8a33b2ddd7217da1db572d5b92ce834/06_SarahDavidson.jpg" /> Morpho Blue, oil on panel, 32.25 x 45 in, 2023 BIOMASS: That is a beautiful working question. I want to talk about transformation as well. Many people say that the realities of creative labor are so challenging, “why choose this path with all these obstacles?” kind of thing, and for trans folks among other marginalized people, these instabilities, financial and political realities are often compounded by harmful policies, poor leadership, or lack of support. But still, a creative life is a way forward amidst these barriers. Do you think artistic practice supports transformation? Or is that too big or too personal to handle through art alone?DAVIDSON: It's complicated. I mean, I have a lot of conflicting feelings and thoughts about that. On one hand, it's very vulnerable to talk about yourself, especially in art, when it feels like sometimes it's a bit of a cop out to talk about your identity. And also, sometimes it just feels too vulnerable to share things about yourself. But also, as an artist, I'd be lying if I said my lived experience isn't what motivates the work. Obviously, this is me and my life experience shaping what I'm interested in as an artist, on a level that's not even conscious. I make work that's me thinking through my own experience of the world. So it's, of course, going to be in there. And also, when I say it's a working question, for me of thinking through queerness, and transness in relation to painting and drawing, I mean that that question involves doubt. There's an ongoing field of queer ecological thinking that I'm influenced and inspired by, but at the same time, I'm not always convinced that making a painting is actually reflecting that thinking. So it's kind of like a maelstrom of these conflicting things. Also, yeah, of course, there are systemic barriers to people thriving, especially if you're not living in a normative body or living in a white body. And I have a lot of privileges as a white person in the world. So, it's complicated. And yeah, of course, as self-employed artists, we don't have paid medical leave to medically transition. Art feels like a realm in which you can talk about complicated, embodied experiences in ways that are complicated and conflicting and don't have to be literal. I mean, if I could express my ideas just in words, I wouldn't be a painter. I really like getting into some of those complications, I think that's actually where real transformation occurs. And I think that the work really embodies that. Nobody wants to talk about the spiritual side of their practice, but for me, I don't think it would be creatively fulfilling if there wasn't a spiritual motivation to make art. It fulfills needs that don't have anything to do with capitalism. It's just a thing that I have to do. <img width="1181" height="1500" width_o="1181" height_o="1500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f26739f17c1326f67620d0931919556b20ac30954a9a0db9eb31697fc1e1f0ef/09_SarahDavidson.jpg" data-mid="211302867" border="0" data-scale="100" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f26739f17c1326f67620d0931919556b20ac30954a9a0db9eb31697fc1e1f0ef/09_SarahDavidson.jpg" />&nbsp;Studio detail. Courtesy of the artist. <img width="1500" height="1125" width_o="1500" height_o="1125" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8a01242a7b29dc8552e9063e6dd4775a80be0870b8fa6d99ad1c61b908b6b4a2/01_SarahDavidson.jpg" data-mid="211302866" border="0" data-scale="82" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8a01242a7b29dc8552e9063e6dd4775a80be0870b8fa6d99ad1c61b908b6b4a2/01_SarahDavidson.jpg" />Exhibition view of Fingery Eyes. NARS Foundation, 2023. BIOMASS: Over the years, what relational practices have you found to be supportive, sustainable for you to continue to make your work? I ask because it is very common for artists and creatives to experience burnout, overwhelm or social anxieties. And I think it's useful to share practices and tools, even if they're individualized. What has allowed you to maintain your practice? And what people or communities have filled your cup as an artist? DAVIDSON: To some degree, doing things that don't have to do with art is very helpful. I spend a lot of time in so-called ‘nature’, like, I go hiking a lot! I require that in my life, some space to not be immersed in the so-called ‘professional’ side of art making. I like to check out from that world regularly. Also the older I get, the more I'm able to separate those worlds, whether I'm selling work or whether the art has value in and of itself. I have to be conscious not to equate those two things, which is really helpful. Obviously, we live under capitalism, it's hard not to get wrapped up in that, we have to fulfill our basic survival needs. It's not like I don't need to make money in general, but I have never been able to rely on my art practice as my main source of income. So, I think just being really clear eyed about that. The amount of money that I make does not reflect how good the paintings or drawings or artworks are. And frankly, in terms of connecting with other artists, I don't really feel a lot of pressure to make sure my friends are the most famous artists or whatever. I build friendships with people who I feel a real kinship with, or whose values align with mine. I also have friends who aren't artists. I don't really approach networking as like, “oh, I have to become friends with a certain person”. I build long term relationships with people as friends or as ‘professional contacts’, just based on a connection, then it doesn't feel so fraught. I mean, it's complicated, because the boundaries are so blurry in the art world between what you do for fun and what you do for work; when you're just hanging out, and when you're making contacts. It can be very hard to navigate. BIOMASS: Mmhm. You had mentioned that, looking at the work as valuable, just by being with that experience of seeing one’s ideas coming into fruition. That is such an intangible thing to describe or to convey, or to teach. And yet, it seems to be one of your biggest kind of resiliency tools.&nbsp; DAVIDSON: Yeah, I think so. I mean, I'm sure you've experienced this, too, where you have a show, and you work towards it for months or years, and then the actual experience of the show can be so anticlimactic. If anything, I usually get a kind-of postpartum depression once the show has opened, or when the work is finished. I'm not saying that I have figured this out, because I still get depressed when I have a show. But, I feel like the only way to work through that is to place the emphasis on finding or creating meaning in the part where you're making the work and not the part where you're showing it.The practice has to be where the meaning is or else it can feel like a really emotionally impossible situation: always working towards this thing that weirdly disappoints. I feel like most artists get that depression, and it feels ungrateful or something, because obviously you want shows to work towards, and it's something to be excited about and proud of. But, if my sense of purpose as an artist only comes from shows, and each time they happen I get depressed and worried about what's next, that is not sustainable. BIOMASS: You're articulating in that entanglement. By returning to your practice that allows for continuity and a reference for stability. And, yes, it's so easy–even celebrated and encouraged–to hang all of one's hopes, dreams and expectations, even financial needs, on external validation, through shows, sales, accolades, reviews, blah blah blah. Yet the reality for so many working artists, does not feel or look like that at all. The majority of the art world is in our practice. DAVIDSON: It’s 100% capitalism! You could get a show that you would have been so excited about five years ago. Your mind would have been blown that you'd gotten this opportunity at this particular space. And now that you have it, you're like, well, now what? What's the next step? There is always more to want. It's the same as the ‘lifestyle creep’ that happens, if you start making a little bit more money, suddenly you want nicer things. It's an unending situation. It's okay to have ambitions, I have ambitions, but it can also be a really toxic way of thinking, especially about art. <img width="1490" height="2000" width_o="1490" height_o="2000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/db59981c98339ca5c6131d9d52b3943d16d8b2a556f38959ca001fb4cd8124a4/07_SarahDavidson.jpg" data-mid="211302869" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/db59981c98339ca5c6131d9d52b3943d16d8b2a556f38959ca001fb4cd8124a4/07_SarahDavidson.jpg" /> Harry, oil on panel, 6 x 8.5, 2023 Sarah Davidson (they/them, b.1989, Canada) works primarily between drawing and painting to create compositions in which shadowy, biomorphic figures and delicate, foliated fragments mingle. Making reference to a history of discourses constructing the ‘natural’ world, their works investigate bodies, environment, observation, and the tangled strings which often bind them together. While often drawn directly from ‘nature’, their drawings diffract distinctions between embodied self and other through a queer ecological lens: critters and space collapse into one another, suggesting a permeable web. Both the eye and the mind work towards the known--animals, plants, brush marks, lines--but are caught in a space of undoing. A question floats among the forms: who’s seeing who, and how?Davidson lives and works in New York, NY. They have exhibited their work widely in Canada and the United States, including solo exhibitions at NARS Foundation, Brooklyn (2023), Wil Aballe Art Projects, Vancouver (2022), Feuilleton, Los Angeles (2021), and Erin Stump Projects, Toronto (2019). Their work has been covered by press including ARTnews, Canadian Art, Mousse Magazine, and Art Viewer. They have taken part in residencies at the Banff Centre, Banff (2020 and 2022), NARS Foundation, Brooklyn (2022) and AiR Sandnes, Norway (2017). Their work is included in the collections of the Royal Bank of Canada and the Burnaby Art Gallery. They received an MFA from the University of Guelph in 2019, and a BFA from Emily Carr University of Art &amp; Design in 2015. https://biomasssss.com/Emily-Chudnovsky Fri, 20 Nov 2020 23:05:45 +0000 BIOMASS https://biomasssss.com/Emily-Chudnovsky Emily Chudnovsky <img width="2024" height="2699" width_o="2024" height_o="2699" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e2a4b4c8a9f70a65c1830ec2c0ba102fdca832320fae550ecf55b995eab6e8f1/IMG_9334-4-copy.jpeg" data-mid="213809008" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e2a4b4c8a9f70a65c1830ec2c0ba102fdca832320fae550ecf55b995eab6e8f1/IMG_9334-4-copy.jpeg" /> Microfiber felt samples. 2024. Micro fibers, raw sheeps wool, grapevine fibers, mesh. Dimensions variable. BIOMASS: Emily, so glad to have a conversation with you for Volume three! I wanted to start this conversation with your process. Specifically, over the past couple years what have you been developing in or out of the studio? EMILY CHUDNOVSKY: When I finished my floating piece, Tangle, about a year ago, I took a fairly large break. I was exhausted after doing a public artwork. A lot of strange things happened around that piece. There was some pushback on the ‘natural’ look of the piece from a couple of the residents living in a condo that surrounded where it was floating in a Basin off of Lake Ontario. There was also media interest and support. In the end, the trash trapping program that the majority of the materials for my piece came from is actually now being partially funded by that same condominium. So, after a break I started thinking about this next body of work. I collected invasive grape vines that were being removed from trees from the GTA. I was still thinking about invasive plant species and the invasiveness of microplastic and how to use them in tandem. That brought me back to felting. I felt this desire to take a closer read, likely a response to making this large, and somewhat challenging work that was Tangle. BIOMASS: When did felting come into your toolkit? Where did you learn that practice? And what do you think made you return to it? CHUDNOVSKY: I taught myself how to felt during my MFA, when I started working with discarded sheep’s wool on a residency in northern Scotland. This spear-headed my interest in discarded materials. I tend to gravitate toward finding repetitive practices as I test new materials. I'm interested in the way fiber locks together. As I learned more about microplastic through my collaboration with the community research group, the University of Toronto Trash Team, I learned about microfibers – small fibers that shed from our clothing through washing and drying – as well as just being worn out in the world. BIOMASS: Could you introduce the different organizations that you're involved with and working with at this time? Who is part of your local creative ecosystem? CHUDNOVSKY:&nbsp; Well, I’ve worked and collaborated with The University of Toronto Trash Team the last couple of years, which is a community outreach organization that operates out of the Rochman Lab, a microplastics lab at the University of Toronto (U of T). They are made up of students, researchers and volunteers, who work with them on citizen science projects, cleanups, data collection, and educational programs. They have a ton of different research projects which focus on science-based solutions to plastic pollution. Then there's also the International Trash Trap Network - they've developed a harmonized data protocol so that around the world, anybody who uses a trash trapping device in a water body can use an app to collect their data on the types of materials they are ending up in their trash traps. The goal is to have a harmonized data set for informing changes. At Western University in the Department of Visual Arts there is The Center for Sustainable Curating, (directed by Dr. Kirsty Robertson). They’re doing lots of interesting work in the realm of museums and environmental and social justice, and are making meaningful curatorial considerations to put on more sustainable exhibitions. And then artists like yourself! I feel like I have a great network of artists who are interested in thinking differently about what and how we produce in light of the current circumstances in which we find ourselves.... That's really inspiring and keeps me very motivated. BIOMASS: There is such an immense amount of kilometers, miles or depths of water in which we're finding these plastic mediums, that are toxic for water. CHUDNOVSKY: Yeah… it can be overwhelming to think about.&nbsp; BIOMASS: I have a question around toxicity, toxicity in relation to care for a broader ecosystem and how we make meaning from our environments. There is this through-line in your work, that walks between interrogating pervasive toxic substances within an environment, And then working with natural fibers, growths, invasive species, or an animal byproduct like wool. You're also transforming them and re-enmeshing them in the studio. What are some of the drives and motivations for you as an artist, maker, researcher, that brings you back to this kind of entanglement between contextually toxic elements and natural or organic ones? CHUDNOVSKY: I just think that's what we are. We are these once natural things, and ofcourse we're becoming more and more and enmeshed with technology and synthetic matter. We're literally consuming plastic all the time now. I think it's just an interesting and disturbing thing to witness. I'm also interested in how we will respond as well as how the ‘natural world’ responds. So I think part of my practice is looking at these substances together, and how they respond in relationship to each other - I guess in some ways I’m just drawing attention to what I observe to already be at play. Like using the grapevine fibers from these grapevines that are cutting off circulation from trees. They grow at a rapid rate and eventually they tangle themselves to the point of suffocating their host plant. A complicated relationship. I generally aim to work with challenging materials that are in abundance. And like I said earlier, I like to think about how everything, at some point, comes from something natural. At what point does it turn into another ‘category’, so to speak. With plastic because it can't break down, it can't return to an organic original. So the cyclical element doesn't exist. From an artistic perspective I’m interested in how a seemingly more clear-cut material like sheep's wool, fuses with something so mediated like microfibers. &nbsp; BIOMASS: Could you introduce us to the felt studies and where the ideation emerged from and how you came to some of the ways that that artwork is now existent? CHUDNOVSKY: So initially, I was focused on the invasive water plants that filter micro plastic -&nbsp; the microplastic clings to the plant fibers and then gets removed from the lake when the water plants end up in a trash trapping device. I made my public art work Tangle, based around this role of plants in addressing plastic waste. After making such an involved work I developed a bit more knowledge around microplastic -&nbsp; And this brought microfiber to my attention. <img width="3024" height="3082" width_o="3024" height_o="3082" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/46eb184249a9ba96b45c54331f920f2b9de8826a0081716ddac3941fbbc94dc0/IMG_6186.jpg" data-mid="213809007" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/46eb184249a9ba96b45c54331f920f2b9de8826a0081716ddac3941fbbc94dc0/IMG_6186.jpg" />Emily Chudnovsky. Material research. 2023. Courtesy of the artist. <img width="768" height="1024" width_o="768" height_o="1024" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3bddfe6f940d5b05f3cb97972e136cda3b5d47b37e788ff7f41c07735e6232c4/A9DDB5D3-FEF6-4831-918B-BF697401C5AA_1_105_c-copy.jpeg" data-mid="213809004" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/768/i/3bddfe6f940d5b05f3cb97972e136cda3b5d47b37e788ff7f41c07735e6232c4/A9DDB5D3-FEF6-4831-918B-BF697401C5AA_1_105_c-copy.jpeg" /> So much of our clothing is made up of plastic materials which like I said earlier, shed and end up in our waterways, waste streams and in our air and bodies through washing and drying our clothes (as well as while we’re wearing them). The U of T Trash Team did a research project in Georgian Bay, a community in Ontario, with a group called Georgian Bay Forever, where they installed filters on the washing machines in every household in the community. They were able to show that if we all had these filters on our machines (and if the manufacturers developed machines that came with these filters) we could divert hundreds of trillions of strands of these fibers from our waste stream and from our lakes. Trillions! Of course there are lots of questions to be asked about whether we should be making our clothes out of plastic in the first place, but given the fact that we are, this is a very tangible solution. For these experiments with microfibers that I made, I collected microfiber materials from a recycling depot in Toronto that sorts large-scale waste from carpeting and textile wholesalers. Felting is so tactile and textured, it seemed like a useful medium for this kind of study. I was curious also, as to how would the plastic respond to felting. With these new experiments I used a process called Nuno felting, where I felt the sheeps wool and microfibers against a mesh material. They are very subtle, but if you look closely you can see the interplay of the strands of grapevine and microfiber. <img width="2760" height="1840" width_o="2760" height_o="1840" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/238feee5581b7eb384da3213a31de56049bb3e53f0e7fac7e1b3e18b75d073d2/DY3A9947.JPG" data-mid="213809005" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/238feee5581b7eb384da3213a31de56049bb3e53f0e7fac7e1b3e18b75d073d2/DY3A9947.JPG" /> Emily Chudnovsky. Material research. 2023. Courtesy of the artist. BIOMASS: Working in this way and developing essentially your own systems of production, your own methodologies that align with a value system that is not built into either contemporary art or arts education, or the way that most people encounter art in daily life… Do you feel fulfilled by those alignments? I ask because some of the capitalist expectations on our current contemporary art framework do not align with many shared values around conscious creation. So how do you find resonance within this process that exists outside of that frame? CHUDNOVSKY: Yeah, I mean, it is at times, very hard. But when I do feel fulfilled by these alignments I think I feel the closest to meaning…when I tap into that current, and it doesn't happen all the time. I think it is increasingly harder to do that. But it's more important than ever as it’s glaringly obvious that many of our systems are broken. It's harder and harder to hang on to being an artist. But I don’t really know another way to do it besides developing my own processes. I suppose it brings me a sense of self. BIOMASS: I think a lot of people are searching for solutions, for community solutions, for methods, despite the fact that almost everything is designed for us to reach out and grab the prefabricated, processed, plastic packed version. These mechanized systems of production and labor, even around creativity keep us from the things that actually sustain creative work and community. In that vein, creating one’s own materials really goes against the grain. Reflecting on the past few years of what you are learning, as an artist and a creative person to renounce learning to let go, or discovering is something that exhausts either your energy, your resources, your propensity for creativity, or your ability to connect and engage. Identifying these things and labeling them can make it easier to let go of them. CHUDNOVSKY: Yeah, that's something I'm spending a fair amount of time thinking about. And honestly I'm just craving taking a step back, trying to forget about deadlines, social media, and a finished and shareable product for a moment, and enjoy the process of making. It can be scary to hit any kind of a pause. Because there is always the fear that you might get left behind or become sort of irrelevant - definitely a fight with the ego that I think we have to strive to let go of. I get the most joy actually making work and engaging in a dialogue with other artists developing their own lexicon. <img width="2000" height="1333" width_o="2000" height_o="1333" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/bbf3d9b9bae401ad2f9260343ae98d709b173aab38ec307fb61d92a63fe2e8df/_DSC1767.JPG" data-mid="213809002" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/bbf3d9b9bae401ad2f9260343ae98d709b173aab38ec307fb61d92a63fe2e8df/_DSC1767.JPG" /> <img width="2000" height="1333" width_o="2000" height_o="1333" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5174a1ec551c2430b459a8bd8280659435d6e9a6b1182292670bc1ee99c21ac4/_DSC1761.JPG" data-mid="213809000" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/5174a1ec551c2430b459a8bd8280659435d6e9a6b1182292670bc1ee99c21ac4/_DSC1761.JPG" /> <img width="2000" height="1333" width_o="2000" height_o="1333" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f71dfe3f0d39932980a5e9feeeb0635cddd31b692915fcb07bff4b2fc81de18a/_DSC1766.JPG" data-mid="213809001" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f71dfe3f0d39932980a5e9feeeb0635cddd31b692915fcb07bff4b2fc81de18a/_DSC1766.JPG" /> Emily Chudnovsky VOLUME I <img width="1500" height="971" width_o="1500" height_o="971" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d85b4bb64138163106c853dbd021c8c84b6758c3df3ddf7e371b89898505ef16/Chudnovsky_Leftover_72dpi_1-1.jpg" data-mid="91337105" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/d85b4bb64138163106c853dbd021c8c84b6758c3df3ddf7e371b89898505ef16/Chudnovsky_Leftover_72dpi_1-1.jpg" /> Emily Chudnovsky. Leftover. Recycled paper pulp, (cotton grass, wood-shavings, and sawdust), piping, car parts, electrical wire. Dimensions variable. Photo by Alex Hakinson.&nbsp;2020. <img width="1500" height="1001" width_o="1500" height_o="1001" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/792f6a4a47ffb047eb1e164687c3adf7baa3892f0f2e372841ef5decf26e7290/Chudnovsky_Leftover_72dpi_2-1.jpg" data-mid="91337106" border="0" data-scale="96" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/792f6a4a47ffb047eb1e164687c3adf7baa3892f0f2e372841ef5decf26e7290/Chudnovsky_Leftover_72dpi_2-1.jpg" /> <img width="1500" height="964" width_o="1500" height_o="964" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/01f54d37896fa248523ac2d85f468f6ca03f6b9dc8e3e51e9a8aa3007e0696a0/Detail_DevonBerquist_Chudnovsky_Leftover_YRAF2020-04.jpg" data-mid="91598786" border="0" data-scale="100" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/01f54d37896fa248523ac2d85f468f6ca03f6b9dc8e3e51e9a8aa3007e0696a0/Detail_DevonBerquist_Chudnovsky_Leftover_YRAF2020-04.jpg" /> Emily Chudnovsky. Leftover. 2020. View from the tailing pond. Photos by Devin Berquist <img width="4032" height="3024" width_o="4032" height_o="3024" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1e517e88fd220b5252c9987d87b4233f30d77d98b97402e09b0e751f590c76b4/Annie-Kierans_Chudnovsky_Leftover_-72dpi_10.jpg" data-mid="91598777" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1e517e88fd220b5252c9987d87b4233f30d77d98b97402e09b0e751f590c76b4/Annie-Kierans_Chudnovsky_Leftover_-72dpi_10.jpg" /> Emily Chudnovsky. Leftover. 2020. Photo by Annie Kierans BIOMASS: This project Leftover, what ideas, people or materials led to the artwork? Emily Chudnovsky: In a way I see Leftover more as a research function than a finished artwork. When I was doing a residency in northern Scotland at the Glasgow School of Art’s Highlands and Islands campus, I visited an eco village nearby which was established in the 70’s, called Findhorn. What interested me there were these floating plant hubs which they use to turn their waste into grey water. So they have a series of tanks which contain plants, trees, snails, algae and other microorganisms, and the hubs float inside of these tanks which are modeled on the idea of creating little ecosystems.&nbsp; B: Like a natural water treatment centre alongside the community? EC: Yeah exactly. So these floating islands provide a happy hub for bacteria. I found the islands very intriguing and wanted to experiment with an artwork that played with floating plant matter and what might be considered sites of ‘waste.’ And considering the possible aesthetic of these islands was also a draw for me. B: How did you translate these ideas about sustainable communities and environments? Who or what was involved in that process? EC: I am always thinking about bringing objects into the world and whether this is still valuable or if it is harmful. That is why using places like the dump and the free store up here for material is so useful for artists, and for everyone really. Even though a lot gets thrown away, so much gets an opportunity for new life. I try to use materials that have been discarded or there may be an excess of saw dust, cotton grass, raw wool and scrap metal. The pulp mill, the dump and the recycling depot up here were all integral to making Leftover. For the arts fest [Yukon Riverside Artist Festival] I showed this piece in a tailing pond, which is a remnant of the mining industry. We have tailing ponds all along the highway up here - they are kind of ‘typical’ to our landscape but were very bizarre to me when I first saw them. They look a bit like craters filled with water. <img width="1500" height="1125" width_o="1500" height_o="1125" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/4ad33d74eb2fe8b395a2288b8e4b0a069ea86acccc24a087d823819d7fc227c4/Annie-Kierans_Chudnovsky_Leftover_-72dpi_6.jpg" data-mid="91598775" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/4ad33d74eb2fe8b395a2288b8e4b0a069ea86acccc24a087d823819d7fc227c4/Annie-Kierans_Chudnovsky_Leftover_-72dpi_6.jpg" /> <img width="1500" height="1125" width_o="1500" height_o="1125" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9a17346306a369e8e8dad3af7adfd45cd27e30ea23e297d36bae260c3e955f31/Annie-Kierans_Chudnovsky_Leftover_-72dpi_3.jpg" data-mid="91598774" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9a17346306a369e8e8dad3af7adfd45cd27e30ea23e297d36bae260c3e955f31/Annie-Kierans_Chudnovsky_Leftover_-72dpi_3.jpg" /> <img width="1500" height="1125" width_o="1500" height_o="1125" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/827764cf02a825be7d191eab4bdb834db46efdb5e229c9972728d83b7dda9ae1/Annie-Kierans_Chudnovsky_Leftover_-72dpi_2.jpg" data-mid="91637536" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/827764cf02a825be7d191eab4bdb834db46efdb5e229c9972728d83b7dda9ae1/Annie-Kierans_Chudnovsky_Leftover_-72dpi_2.jpg" /> Pulp process. 2020. Photos by Annie Kierans B: Some of the formal aesthetic qualities in your work translate some of these more complex ideas which I think is quite impressive. What role has formal training played in your art practice? EC: I have a strange trajectory maybe because I have a critical theory background, though I have always made artwork. After I did my undergrad I felt really exhausted by academic language... then I went into the art world for my MFA (laughs).!&nbsp; so I mainly used the MFA as an opportunity to hone in on my technical capabilities, accessing the textile studios, the metal and wood shops, and of course making use of the studio space. I am always teaching myself, and so I see my training as ongoing. B: When would you say you feel most satisfied with your work and also when do you feel like it is done? EC: I’m never fully satisfied with my work, but I think that just means I want to keep making. Especially because my practice is a lot of teaching myself things, that really makes me feel like I've never reached a finished product. But I think it’s also because a lot of things I make can be undone or unlinked, can decompose, or can be reimagined in another form. B: When people encounter your work, what do you get out of that experience? EC: I'm always seeking that kind of alchemy of the idea I see in my mind, the material, where it's going to exist, and the person encountering it. People have different associations depending on their everyday life, they might see more abstract shapes, or they may focus on the material, or the way in which the sculpture is installed. I notice that a lot of the time people want to identify what the materials are that I’ve used, or interact with them in some way,&nbsp; and since the materials are so often meaningful to me I find this to be a satisfying response to the work. <img width="360" height="265" width_o="360" height_o="265" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/6f2275db364e5bc6d840e7b18cc6e3a1283bf4d1d92646629f321f65880b20cb/Detail_DevonBerquist_Chudnovsky_Leftover_YRAF2020-02.jpg" data-mid="91598784" border="0" data-scale="100" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/360/i/6f2275db364e5bc6d840e7b18cc6e3a1283bf4d1d92646629f321f65880b20cb/Detail_DevonBerquist_Chudnovsky_Leftover_YRAF2020-02.jpg" /> <img width="1500" height="1232" width_o="1500" height_o="1232" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3f293216068ea405cd9fe0709ef013e87e0d7fa48b47c04ff2a090ec05d45ada/Detail_DevonBerquist_Chudnovsky_Leftover_YRAF2020-03.jpg" data-mid="91598785" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3f293216068ea405cd9fe0709ef013e87e0d7fa48b47c04ff2a090ec05d45ada/Detail_DevonBerquist_Chudnovsky_Leftover_YRAF2020-03.jpg" /> Leftover. Detail. Photos by Devin Berquist. 2020. B: Would you say new work begins with found material? EC: Most of the ideas I have begin with material. Usually, my initial task or challenge is to get a hold of it. The majority of the pulp mixture for this sculpture is made from sawdust. I went to the pulp mill near here and they were just like ‘Yup, help yourself’; so that was great. This summer I got tons of raw fleece, the farmer picked me up in his boat and took me to his farm down the Yukon river, and we filled the boat with wool. So people have been very generous with me, and that interaction is a wonderful part of it. I think it adds to the magic of the process when the material has already had a strange life of its own and then it provides different challenges and possibilities. B: Your work has many temporal qualities, like decomposable material, how long to do you hold onto it? EC: This work is right now living outdoors partially to test its durability … and mostly because I don’t have storage for it (laughter). I’m gonna leave it outside and see what happens. At the moment it’s covered with snow. At some point the paper pulp will disintegrate, without being harmful, and what’s left will be a tire tube and some metal that I got at the freestore which may well return there one day for someone else to make use of. Emily Chudnovsky's practice consists of collecting organic remnants and synthetic decay in order to draw out new iterations, connections and regenerations through sculpture-based installations. Chudnovsky holds an MFA from the Glasgow School of Art.&nbsp;