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“The Brady’s,” unfired clay, paint, ink, graphite, 2014 from“Messages to my Twenty-Year-Old Self." |
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Installation Shot, “objects for everyone I have ever known,” unfired clay, paint, graphite, ink, 2008. |
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Worn, falling apart, and decaying, are not usual adjectives in describing
most ceramic works. Contemporary sculptor and ceramic artist Kristen Morgin’s
works embody all of these adjectives, while still evoking nostalgia, warm
memories, and tangible associations to the everyday objects she references in
her sculptures. Originally having started her foray into art as an illustrator,
Morgin found her way into clay and sculptural work. Hailing from California,
she attended Alfred University, in New York state; one of the foremost ceramic
MFA programs in the United States to explore the dialogue that would form
between her painting and work in clay.
Kristen’s work manages to weave
her ideas of ephemera with subtle tones of pop culture with her references to
classic cars, cartoons, music, or a comic book you would have had stuffed
haphazardly in between the pages of a textbook in your backpack. In her work,
painting, drawing, and sculpture harmoniously work together to create complex assemblages
of household possessions. Her use of subdued colors challenges the idea of the
super bright commercial packaging on everyday objects like books, toys, and
games.
To me, the most interesting
aspect of her work is the form of ceramics she chooses to work in. Her sculptures
remain unfired (or terra cruda: i.e. “raw earth” in Italian) and are crudely
supported by a hobnob different materials. While in her MFA program, she
started to not fire her clay, stepping on the toes of an orthodox practice
within a well thought program, hoping to convey the fragility of the ephemera
in her work in a physical state.
“I was trying to make
classical music, make the instrument look like how I heard it…” (from video interview below regarding the crumbling structure of some of her work.)
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Cello #3, unfired clay, wood, wire, 2004. |
She breaks almost every rule
I can think of as a ceramic artist, which is precisely one of the reasons why I
find her work so fascinating. Largely, her work is too fragile for transport
(beyond the scope of normal ceramics), and is it really ceramic since it hasn’t
undergone quartz inversion to make the clay into a ceramic material? Some of
her larger sculptures have even been destroyed after showing because of their
inability to move without further damage. Her attention to detail is phenomenal
and obsessive, but choosing to deliberately unfire her work leads us to think
of these pieces as time capsules; buried above the ground, decaying slowly as
they exist.
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"Crime Reporter," unfired clay, paint,
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In direct contrast to the
fragility of her work is comfort, and sincere tangibility. I feel when we see
these nostalgic objects, you can’t help but want to touch them. Pick them up,
diving into your own experiences of the past when you stuck the key into the
ignition of a Cadillac and
turned it over, flipped through a comic out
of the box in the garage one more time, or stuffed all the money from Monopoly under your lap as you play to undermine your siblings and buy more properties before them.
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"Monopoly," unfired clay, paint and ink, 2007. |
Her work is in flux,
flitting with time, on the verge of collapse and decay; sandwiching Disney
characters and Old Hollywood in the unmentioned spaces. Kristen’s work reminds
me of how we are in a way imprisoned by our nostalgia and our memories, and
these experiences form a basis for how we think, how we feel throughout our
life. Through those brightly painted cracks of her sculptures, all of things
are in full view, ready for us to digest.
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"Mickey Dearest," unfired Clay, paint, ink. 2014. |
(Kadist Art Foundation interview by Xiaoyu Weng with Kristen Morgin in her studio regarding her practice and process.)
Sources:
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Morgan Shedd