Today, Cashon & Co. Blog proudly presents our first installment of a new series, called INTERCHANGE.
By definition, the word interchange is a verb that means: (of two or more people) exchange (things) with each other : superior and subordinates freely interchange ideas and information.
• put each of (two things) in the other's place : the terms are often interchanged.• [ intrans. ] (of a thing) be able to be exchanged with another ...... AND that is exactly what this is about. Lisa Renz, who is the wearer at many hats at Cashon & Co. Interiors Ltd. is by trade an artist. And by that I mean - not only is she talented, but she is an active artist, that also holds a BFA and a MFA in Printmaking. Her work is currently on display in a one-man show at the Boswell Mourot Fine Art Gallery in Little Rock, AR and she has works in the permanent collection of the Brooklyn Art Library in New York.
In the series that she entitled INTERCHANGE, Lisa will interview artists from around the world. I am personally SO excited to have the opportunity to be involved with her AND with her Art World, via her works, stories, and now her interviews. So, please welcome the very first Interchange and welcome Lisa to the blog world! Take it away, girl!
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Tori Kaspareit Pelz is an emerging artist who hails from Dallas, Texas. She's someone you should know. She's someone you'd want to sit and have coffee with. Make that a glass of wine and some yummy chocolate cake. While much of her work is made alone in her studio, she constantly gravitates towards bringing art to the community, and engaging people in the process or the installation. She currently lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan, having just moved from Little Rock, Arkansas. Hopefully this interview will allow you to get to know her a little better. (Interview by Lisa Renz)
LR: You tend to make art that reaches out to the public in unexpected, even ephemeral ways, such as your Flannery O'Connor piece, or to include people in the process of your art making, as in your most recent project re-entry. Talk a little bit about both projects and what drives you towards interactive, collaborative, public art works.
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TKP: When I first moved in to my neighborhood in downtown Little Rock, I fell in love with the overgrown, abandoned façade. It was tucked behind unkempt rentals on a side street. It had this tragic, romantic quality about it. I knew I had to do something with it. (I later came to learn that an older gentleman had conceived of the structure as a dream house for his wife, but when she passed away mid-construction, he couldn’t bring himself to finish the building or sell the site. That’s the lore, anyway.)
I just wanted to love on the space, bring a bit of redemption. It was funny, as I was putting up the stencils, neighbors would pass by and exclaim how glad they were to see something being done to that space. That was gratifying.
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The mud stencil project was more about creating a spectacle in an overlooked space. Flannery O’Connor, along with other Southern writers evoke this visceral yet spiritual interconnectedness between identity and geographical place. Her characters always seem to vacillate between a dangerous familiarity and a resultant displacement. The overgrown structure that was simultaneously being swallowed up by its environment and viewed as a neighborhood eyesore seemed a natural monument for O’Connor’s quote, “Where you’ve come from is gone, where you are going was never there… Nothing outside you can give you any place.”
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The choice of mud was mostly pragmatic—I didn’t want to get in trouble for vandalism, and the stuff washes off pretty effortlessly. But it also works in again, that southern connectedness to physical place, soil. But I actually did get in trouble—as I was finishing the last few words, the never-before-seen owner came ranting and raving that Michael’s carried canvases for this sort of thing.
One of my favorite community artists—I think he actually refers to himself as a social sculptor—Hugh Merrill once noted that “drawing a picture of social justice is not the same as working with a homeless kid.” While I value and need a private studio practice to work through ideas, experiment, I find that my real reward of being an artist comes when I make work that directly engages a community. I’m still trying to find that balance or way of being that is as much about generating new ideas as it is about being a vehicle or facilitator for those who have little or no opportunity to be heard. Maybe that extends to forgotten architecture…?
LR: While working on re-entry, you acted as a curator as well as an artist, interviewing the women, and then organizing artists to respond to the interviews with drawings and prints. What were some of the challenges you found in this additional role?
cover art by Kim Wardenburg
TKP: I had to let go of the need for a specific outcome. I have a deep respect for the work of each of the artists I invited to participate in the ‘zine (in this case, a small, self-published mini magazine) so it was relatively easy to relinquish control.
artwork by David Bailin
I did find it interesting that many of the artists assumed the former inmates were African-American and responded accordingly with figurative imagery. Interestingly, only one of the five women was African-American. Upon learning she had assumed incorrectly, one artist panicked a bit and considered redoing her piece. I find this messy - this inaccuracy of how we relate race, and identity to experiences that we don’t necessarily share.
artwork by Delita Martin
Community seems to be a trendy topic these days, but too often we stop short at superficial context of tolerance, friendliness and general kumbayah-ness. I’d argue that at the heart of tolerance is indifference, a general I’m okay- You’re okay mindset. But that’s not engagement. That’s not community. Community happens when there is offense or misunderstanding that has to be confronted—when we grapple with others’ experiences that we could never feign to understand. In that tense space of open wounds and awkwardness, real engagement begins.
artwork by Katie Dunn
The women that I met with actually created that honest space for themselves. Each of them had come to a place of authenticity, I’d argue, by being loved unconditionally. They blew me away by the frankness with which they spoke of their pasts. They had no secrets, no shame. They weren’t trying hard to be “better.” They possessed a spiritual awareness that they’d been forgiven, restored. One woman, after sharing her struggle with various addictions, asked me, “So what’s your addiction? You know they come in all shapes and sizes.”
That was an unexpected element. I went into the project seeing myself as a facilitator for their stories to be heard. But really, it became more about a conversation. I wasn’t comfortable simply listening. I felt like I was taking without giving. Here they were, pouring out raw, inspiring narratives of where they’d been, how their faith and pain had transformed them, and I suddenly felt like I had nothing to give. Listening took on a whole new, active meaning for me.
LR: What's next for you? Do you feel these works are serving as a springboard for future works or are you sensing a pull in an entirely different direction? Also, there are rumors of a parade in your future. Would you talk a little bit about that?
artwork by Holly Laws
TKP: After these "others-oriented" projects, I crave some quiet studio time. I’m definitely interested in continuing to involve marginalized communities. I’d really love to work with refugee populations. There’s something privileged about the perspective of those who have been thrust into unfamiliar environments. They see things with a bit more clarity. I want part of that heightened awareness.
Yes! Parades! I can’t say that without an exclamation. So we just moved to Grand Rapids where ArtPrize has been a big deal for the last 2 years. It’s part art fair/ part competition with huge cash prizes. I’m not a fan of the public voting aspect, but it does engage crowds who may not normally discuss art. The parade I’m planning with long-time friend, Danielle Kimzey, is the We’re Proud of You parade. We’re inviting artists and locals to make costumes and orchestrate performances that celebrate what makes Grand Rapids grand. I’m hoping for this to be an annual event.
Sometimes, my own art can be a little serioso, so I need an alternative art persona, one that can throw a parade. And, it’s again, a chance to engage community in a direct way. Come out on September 24, 2011 near the Grand Rapids Art Museum. Should be fun!
Please continue to check Tori's website. Under Construction. Art will be coming soon! www.toripelz.com
To view the pdf of the entire zine with interviews, and to see more artwork from the re-entry zine, go to: http://cloudofwitnessesdotorg.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/re-entry_reader-with-cover.pdf
To learn more about the Re-entry project, go to:
www.cloudofwitnesses.org
Bibliography:
O'Connor, Flannery. Wise Blood. New York, New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1949. Print.
