Tag Archives: sculpture

Current Exhibition

Spatial Exploration with Jill McCarthy Stauffer’s Works

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Palinopsia from April 23 to May 17, 2024 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Oliver Foley

In a gallery displaying flat works on a wall, the usual action by the engaged viewer is to stop walking and look deeply at the piece of interest. Art on a single plane does not encourage observation from all sides, it even prevents it. This is not the case with free-standing sculptures, like statues, kinetic pieces, or floor-mounted multimedia assemblages. When an artist chooses to add a third dimension to their work, engagement necessitates movement through space to properly observe all elements of the piece. Amongst the pieces currently on view at Stamp Gallery, two works by Jill McCarthy Stauffer promote this kind of movement-based exploration by the viewer in unconventional ways. The works, I remember how the sanderlings go and if everything is connected, are more akin to two-dimensional artworks in their mounting and structure, yet inspire a similar type of spatial exploration as a freestanding sculpture.

Jill McCarthy Stauffer, I remember how the sanderlings go, 2023

The first of these pieces, I remember how the sanderlings go, is a work of analog projection onto a wall above a line of sand. Although the key component of the piece is essentially flat against the wall, motion is essential for its artistic functioning. A large black box on the floor divides a small passageway into two zones: a zone to walk through, and the piece itself. As the viewer passes through the corridor, an ultrasonic sensor detects their movement like a bat detects an insect with echolocation. The detection of movement triggers a series of analog projections. In the same direction as the viewer’s pathway, a small projected bird moves across the sandbar, shifting in color in glitchy lines formed by light projected through dichroic film. As I was first interacting with this piece, I was captured by the sense of experimentation that it prompted, both to seek an understanding of the black box’s mechanism and to see all permutations of its projections. I explored it for a while, moving back and forth through the corridor, standing in place to let it repeatedly trigger, and jumping from one sensor to the other to trigger both bird-directions at once. The playfulness of interactivity in this piece sets it apart from conventional three-dimensional works as an empirically exploratory piece.

Jill McCarthy Stauffer, if everything is connected, 2023

At the end of the bird’s corridor, the viewer finds themselves transported fully to the beach environment of Stauffer’s works. On the wall are five large shells connected by wound cables of wire. Ocean sounds play, immersing the viewer. The shells are illuminated from behind, creating a color-changing glow framing each shell. From afar, the surface of the enlarged reproductions of shells glimmers faintly. Closer inspection reveals gleaming colored bands which criss-cross in and out of the shells, reflecting the light cast from the other shells. The dynamic textures of the carapaces draw in the viewer to observe their intricate variation in coloration and topography. I found myself changing position, crouching, tilting my head, and moving around these pieces to get a better view of their complexities. Despite being wall-mounted, the visual appearance of this piece changes as one moves around them. The light and images reflected in the bands of lustrous film transform and distort as the viewer changes their angle and distance. 

Engagement is often one of the most desirable audience responses an artist could hope for. In my own experience, artworks that cause me to move through a space and explore are often the ones which resonate most in my memory; the more a person’s body is engaged, the stronger the sense-memory of the experience. Through their creative use of electronic interactivity, Stauffer gives the audience an experience they are unlikely to forget.

Palinopsia will be on view at the Stamp Gallery at the University of Maryland, College Park, through May 17, 2024.

Current Exhibition, Uncategorized

Community, Temporality, and Sociality in Charlotte Richardson-Deppe’s I Resist This 

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I Resist This from March 4 to April 6th, 2024, at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by James Cho

How do we function as a community? How does one persist as an individual within a social group? By socialising and working together as part of a larger whole. The desire to recreate the metaphorical stitches of community is at the heart of Charlotte Richardson-Deppe’s artist residency project at the Stamp Gallery. Using the gallery as an open studio for visitors to observe her work, Richardson-Deppe sews together a variety of clothes to create multi-person soft sculptures. Whether hanging from the ceiling, on the floor of the Gallery, or on Richardson-Deppe’s workbench, every one of her sculptures are built on a belief in collaboration. She describes her work as a collaboration between her and her garments that she has been using over the course of I Resist This’s run to sew together apparatuses, as well as between her and the Gallery space, her dancers, and of course, visitors in creating a sense of community. 

In listening to her meeting with art classes visiting the Gallery, Richardson-Deppe has made it clear that collaboration is a central force for her work as a whole. Art, in her belief, is usually better when the process is aligned with the final product, so being in the garments after Richardson-Deppe stitches them into her apparatuses is just as important in establishing a sense of community and relationships between the people wearing her garments, the garments, and the Gallery space. As such, the small community formed by those wearing the garments and the sociality of the experience in doing so drives her artwork and performances, in that good work can only be done by doing it with other people. 

This can be seen even in the choice in making all of her soft sculptures monochromatic. Rather than using pants or sweaters of varying colours, Richardson-Deppe chooses to use garments of the same hue for each unified whole. The effect reinforces her focus on creating a sense of temporary community through the unity of colour, which in turn creates a sense of unity between those who wear the garments. Such that even as every individual wearing part of the sculptures might vie for their independence, chafing against the social structures that the apparatuses form, they still create a community, and the wearers must socialise to execute basic movements as a group. 

Speculative Soft Sculptures. Richardson-Deppe. 2024

This focus on forming, maintaining, and sustaining a temporary community through Richard-Deppe’s sculptures speaks to the themes of independence and interdependence that underlie I Resist This. The many apparatuses in I Resist This emphasise these two themes in relation to how we as humans function socially, which as mentioned is similar to her art-making process. Because even though Richardson-Deppe is creating these works independently over time as seen above, she ultimately relies on the Gallery as a social place and as a studio, a place where people can see and interact with her soft sculptures. She needs the space for her upcoming performance on Saturday, April 6, as well as her dancers who will participate in her performance. On the flip side, the Gallery depends on her just the same, since it needs to contain her apparatuses to exhibit something to entice the public to visit it, and just as much as her dancers rely on her to produce the soft sculptures and outfits to perform. 

Ultimately, then, just as stitches unite the garments in Richardson-Deppe’s apparatuses, the multifunctionality of I Resist This as an exhibition, studio, and soon performance is reflected in the many ways that it creates a sense of community. These multiple communities depend on their parts to function as a whole, despite each part existing in and desiring independence from each other. 

Current Exhibition

What it Means to Linger

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I Resist This from March 4 to April 6, 2024 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Reshma Jasmin

The first time I visited Stamp Gallery’s I Resist This was on its fourth day open. The current exhibition takes the form of an artist residency, which means that the artist, Charlotte Richardson-Deppe, would be working on the pieces for the exhibition in the gallery itself throughout the course of the program. I had met Richardson-Deppe prior to this exhibition, but I didn’t know her in the context of her work as an artist. I also had never encountered a behind-the-scenes look into the artistic process serving as an artform itself. As such, I was looking forward to talking to her about the inspiration behind her choice to perform her process and watching her in action. But on my first day in the gallery, I was alone. A bit later, someone came in, and commiserated with me about not seeing Richardson-Deppe. But she noted that she saw traces of Richardson-Deppe’s presence over the course of hours or days— in Crocs which had been moved and through progress on a textile piece that was splayed out on benches.

When I came in the next day, I did see Richardson-Deppe, and I was able to chat with her and watch her work for hours. I learned about the function of her two sewing machines; one that was well equipped for heavier fabrics (machine on the left) and the other that was meant only for hemming (machine on the right). She told me about her thrift-store strategy of buying a large quantity of cheap clothes and how she mostly collected sweaters, pull-overs, sweatpants, and leggings by chance, but that such heavier materials held up longer for her wearable creations.

Stamp Gallery on March 15, 2024

I Resist This is an exploration of interdependence versus independence, and, in many ways, serves as social commentary about the futile desire for complete independence and the simultaneously undeniable need for social support. To one of the many UMD art courses that visited the gallery, Richardson-Deppe described how she wanted to make visible the invisible relationships and networks and explore different social dynamics. e also mentioned that her wearable pieces did eventually rip during performance, but that it was an expected and welcome end. She informed me that she also teaches in the art department, and I came in during the exact hours she taught a class the day before. I was relieved that I’d be able to see Richardson-Deppe once a week, so the disappointment of the day before dissipated. But the movement of her Crocs lingered in my mind. Why was the sign of previous presence more melancholic than absence alone?

Whenever I was in the gallery sans Richardson-Deppe, I’d look for her Crocs, and sure enough, they’d be in a different location than when I last saw them (See if you can spot them in the photos below!). It was comforting to know she had been there, but she also felt just out of reach. Would I see her again? Absolutely, and it would often be the very next day, and I knew that. And yet, each time I didn’t see her, I felt as though we were two ships passing in the night. 

Stamp Gallery on March 15, 2024 Stamp Gallery on March 15, 2024

Stamp Gallery on April 05, 2024

My expectations all came from the descriptor: Artist-In-Residence. “___-in-residence” is most commonly used for professors, artists, poets, etc. This use comes from the definition of “resident” from the 14th century Medieval Latin word residentem and/or residens, which refers to one who dwells in one location to fulfill their duty in a Christian mission/obligation sense. The phrase “___-in-residence” and the expanded context of the definition only began showing up in the 19th century. 

Related to resident is residence, or in Medieval Latin, residentia, which means is one’s dwelling place or the act of dwelling in a place. These words are derivatives of residere, which is Medieval Latin for reside. The broken down meaning is “re-”: back, again and “sidere”/“sed”: to sit. Together, residere means “sit down, settle; remain behind, rest, linger; be left.”

Richardson-Deppe’s pieces rest, remain, and are left behind while she’s not in the gallery. But Richardson-Deppe also lingers and settles in the gallery during the moments she herself is absent from the space. The growing piles of soft sculpture, the textile pieces approaching completion, the ever-changing composition of the items resting on her worktable, and of course, the silently moving Crocs all continue her performance of creation. The fact that all such changes occurred are signs of life, signs of Richardson-Deppe.

I Resist This is an exploration of interdependence versus independence, and, in many ways, serves as social commentary about the futile desire for complete independence and the simultaneously undeniable need for social support. To one of the many UMD art courses that visited the gallery, Richardson-Deppe described how she wanted to make visible the invisible relationships and networks and explore different social dynamics. 

Charlotte Richardson-Deppe, Red (2023), Screenshot from video. Performers: Gwyneth Blair, Lisa Dang, Sarah Gnolek, Amanda Murphy, Charlotte Richardson-Deppe, Kat Ritzman, Jill Stauffer, Allie Wallace, Jackie Wang.

The relationship between an artist and their labor is typically invisible; most exhibitions only display completed artwork, and even if an artist is present at times to discuss their process and inspiration, we don’t get to see them at work. Through her residency, when Richardson-Deppe is in the gallery, her hands on the textiles and sewing machine are seen; as the maker she is part of her work. However, even residents of homes leave to fulfill their other responsibilities and live out other parts of their lives. One part of being a “resident”  involves leaving and returning, being absent and present. In the moments when Richardson-Deppe is not in the gallery, the connection to her work that was once visible disappears. Yet, though we do not see her, we still unconsciously perceive her presence in the changes to her work and workspace. What is invisible is still there, even if it only exists in the abstract understanding that change occurred and someone was responsible for it. Like Richardson-Deppe suggests through her work, even invisible relationships are inarguably present.

Stamp Gallery on March 15, 2024

Stamp Gallery on April 05, 2024

Humans look for signs of life everywhere. In space, we search for biomarkers, water/ice, radio waves, pollution. In biology, we look for order, sensitivity or response to the environment, reproduction, growth and development, regulation, homeostasis, and energy processing. In my homes, I look for whose shoes are present and which ones; I notice what food in the fridge is slowly decreasing and whether things have been shuffled around; what the arrangement of dishes in the dishwasher looks like; what doors are open; whether there are lights turned on and which ones. I look not only for signs that someone was home or not, but also for signs of who specifically is, and what they might be up to, how they feel.

Even when their presence is dubious, we look for people. Regardless of how lonesome we feel, when we search for people, and even when they aren’t around, we find them. Sometimes, we’re not even looking for them but we feel them throughout their absence nonetheless. Even when Richardson-Deppe isn’t in the gallery, she lingers.

Our presence in each others’ lives is irrefutable and irrevocable. People come and go, but there are always the traces they leave behind. And as melancholy as it is to feel each other linger, there’s a comfort in knowing that people are always around us, that they always stay with us.

Charlotte Richardson-Deppe’s work is included in I Resist This at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from March 4th to April 6th, 2024. Richardson-Deppe will end her artist residency with the performance I Resist This on April 6th, 2024 at 7pm.

Current Exhibition, Uncategorized

Soft Sculpture: Spaces Between the Stitches

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I Resist This from March 4, to April 6, 2024, at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Trinitee Tatum

Ancient statues rise from the cold, marble floors of their enclosures, their colors faded and forgotten with time. The Statue of Liberty has now cloaked itself in a sea foam green, long separated from its copper origins. Mastery of such austere, “noble” materials has defined the sculptor’s craft for millennia; however, for as long as traditional art has existed, there has been resistance to the status quo. The lengthy history of “fine art” in Western canon has been distinctly gendered male and is deeply intertwined with the social principle of individualism. The substitution of these heavily symbolic sculpting materials for the more malleable sort of cloth, paper, and fur makes fine art accessible to those on the margins of industry and excluded from the dominant narrative. By emphasizing the manipulation of everyday materials, soft sculpture protests the inherently privileged position of working with precious rocks and metals. Charlotte Richardson-Deppe’s soft sculpture work critiques the classist and sexist gatekeeping of fine art through the practice itself, as well as through the sustainable sourcing of materials at second-hand stores, emphasizing accessible methods of acquisition. Beyond the innate rebellion against conventional sculpting, soft sculpture manifests as a projection of the human body and its most intimate connections beyond itself, a communal embrace.

I exaggerate bodies and replicate limbs, making visible the ways humans connect and relate to one another.

Charlotte Richardson-Deppe via website

Charlotte Richardson-Deppe, Blue (Soft-sculpture and performance) 2023. Photographs by Mark Williams.

Richardson-Deppe’s pieces take over the human figure, obscuring what the body looks, feels, and sounds like to visibly render kinship and community ties that reside under the surface of our daily lives. This work parallels Nick Cave’s “Soundsuits” performances, especially in how Richardson-Deppe employs both performers and audience members to activate and participate in her soft sculptures. Contrasting Richardson-Deppe’s playful artistic ethos stemming from her background in the circus, Cave’s pieces are imbued with the struggle against racial inequity and violence, serving as “metaphorical suits of armor” and “vehicles of empowerment.” Cave’s suit activations double as community celebrations with the radical collaboration process, juxtaposing traditional, individualistic notions of art-making.

Nick Cave, Speak Louder (Mixed media), 2011

Despite these differences, both artists utilize anonymity to draw the audience’s attention to the body’s presence in its totality rather than the age, race, gender, or other identity markers of the wearer. This objective viewing prompts the audience to look beyond the shallow, habitual judgments we pass and cherish the body’s ability to connect and be connected profoundly with others.

There is something in me which is the same as you. I am you.

Mari Katayama via website

The presence of the audience and their active engagement with the work of I Resist This is crucial to Richardson-Deppe’s exploration of both the playful and serious aspects of human connection. The Stamp Gallery’s space has been reshaped into a middle ground where the artist and the viewer meet in dialogue, blurring the distinctions between the viewer’s, the artist’s and the artwork’s space. By being integrated into the Gallery’s space, the artist herself and her work is exposed to all that choose to see, and demand participation from all who choose to engage. As Richardson-Deppe’s residency comes to a close, I Resist This invites viewers in one last time to bear witness to its metamorphosis before dispersing within all of us as ephemeral memories.

Charlotte Richardson-Deppe’s work is included in I Resist This at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from March 4 to April 6, 2024. Please join us for the concluding performance of Richardson-Deppe’s artist residency on April 6, 2024 at 7pm.

Current Exhibition

Construction Zone: Engaging with Evolving Spaces

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I Resist This from March 4 to April 6, 2024 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Oliver Foley

If you have visited the University of Maryland any time in the past decade, you are likely familiar with the ubiquity of construction zones across campus. It is a regular occurrence to encounter the fenced-off skeletons of new buildings, neon orange barriers around purple line construction, and cones surrounding freshly-poured sidewalks of College Park. Areas undergoing transition are often observable by passersby, but rarely allow up-close engagement for those outside of a specialized group. A few times per semester, during changeover between exhibits, Stamp Gallery briefly becomes one of these mutative spaces, only open to those who are involved in its transformation. However, the current exhibition on display, I Resist This, defies the typical conventions of construction sites by sharing the space’s metamorphosis with a public audience.

I Resist This is a residency exhibition with artist Charlotte Richardson-Deppe, who also teaches art at UMD. Richardson-Deppe’s residency extends the installation process over the entire length of the exhibition, ultimately culminating in a live performance on April 6. As March progressed, the intricacy of the space slowly but surely grew. At first, the gallery was sparsely filled; a garland of conjoined shirts encircled a set of two pants joined at the hip with a tube of fabric. Another chain of arm-linked shirts funnel the visitor into Richardson-Deppe’s workspace at the heart of the exhibition. Guarding the artist’s sewing machines from behind, two large snake-like coils of stuffed fabric tube occupied the back of the gallery.  

As the exhibit progressed, the soft, amorphous creatures of cloth multiplied. Pillowy, yet organic tubular roots grew gradually across the gallery floor and invitingly plush mountains of multicolored cushions came forth from Richardson-Deppe’s sewing machines. Interpretive drawings by Richardson-Deppe’s students fill in the blank spaces of the wall, incorporating external perspectives into the exhibition’s body. Now, as it reaches its final stages before the performance, the exhibition has not only grown in scale, but cultivated a “lived-in” atmosphere. As Richardson-Deppe has acclimated to her new gallery-studio, the arrangement and structuring of her workspace reveals the routines and spatial wisdoms which accompany familiarity. 

From my perspective as a docent, one of the most interesting components of an exhibition-in-flux is the ways in which visitors interact with the space. Some passersby see the pieces-in-progress and instinctually lurk sheepishly around the windows, assuming that a glance is all they are allowed of the gallery. Some of these guests appear to be conditioned to keep out, trained by UMD’s many construction zones. When they notice the sign which reads “OPEN,” the visitors enter with a heightened curiosity. It feels very artistically intimate to see someone’s worktable; the tables of supplies and sewing machines are often the first place guests will explore. “Is this table part of the show?” people often ask, to which I invariably reply, “yes.” The viewer-accessible process of installation is itself a performance.  By giving viewers an exploratory privilege not often afforded to the public,  I Resist This rewards repeat visitorship through its continuous change.  

This evolution reaches its conclusion in the space’s final state with Richardson-Deppe’s live performance on April 6 at 7PM.

Artist Interviews, Current Exhibition, Explore, Uncategorized

Peace in Practice

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Placeholder from October 10, to December 9, 2023, at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Trinitee Tatum

“There is enough multitudes in all of us.”

(Richard Hart, 2023)

In our digital age, words like “software” and “hardware” have clear-cut meanings. However, when these words are superimposed and incorporated into the conversation on the relationship between nature and technology, the essence of these “wares” deepens. Preconceptions of the meanings of software and hardware are challenged through their convergence in Richard Hart’s series of “Water Drawings.” In this series, real rocks are placed alongside projections of patterns that emerge and disappear on the rock’s surface. By juxtaposing the “software” of animation to the “hardware” of rock as durable and utilitarian material, Hart exposes time as a third “ware.” The interconnectedness of software, hardware, and “timeware” parallels the dimensionality of humanity through the mind, body, and soul.

Richard Hart, Water drawing (slate and stone), 2020. Image courtesy of the artist.

The South African artist’s works traverse both the digital and physical realms, exploring modernity’s spectral quality. Although he contends with weighty subjects, Hart taps into his easy going personality and creative ethos as he grapples with the Duality of nature technology and the materiality of time. His work exudes a playful quality as patterns dance across the crevices of rocks, conversing with the materials and the artist. Technology has had a profound impact on the natural world in many ways. On one hand, technological advancements have led to renewable energy and sustainable agriculture. On the other hand, the rapid development of technology has led to pollution, deforestation, and climate change. Time will tell what the final outcome of this relationship will be.

“The best work dances around things, points at things very slyly.”

(Richard Hart, 2023)

Hart is ready to face the challenge of dealing with such daunting realities in his artwork, despite there being no satisfying answers. However, Hart’s creative process relies heavily on experimentation and problem-solving skills. Creating this artwork is a demanding task; setting up alone may take hours, and the drawings themselves must be done in one sitting. Despite the intense time constraints, the process is meditative, and Hart can easily get lost in the work. The “Water Drawings” offer a respite in a chaotic world.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CkCjBi9Abvs/?igshid=MTRoang3N2x1ZTM2dg%3D%3D
Richard Hart, Water drawing (2022). Video courtesy of the artist.

The concept of placehood is crucial in location-based art like this series. Many of the larger rocks require on-site work, either in nature or on the sides of buildings. Even the “Water Drawings” done in the studio are influenced by place. The artist’s work is greatly influenced by his home country, South Africa, but his move to New York has introduced another sense of place and initiated a conversation about one’s place in the world. While transitioning from Africa to America, Hart had to adapt to a new culture and environment different from his own. He also had to consider that his audience may view his work differently than he does.

“Place is the whole thing. It is where the whole thing is situated.”

(Richard Hart, 2023)

Reflecting on one’s sense of placehood has never seemed more important or relevant than when facing the complex and interconnected issues that challenge our current state of global affairs. In the face of crisis, the value of preserving and cultivating the unique identity and cultural significance of a place is imperative. In safeguarding our local identities, cultures, and environments, we create a more resilient, inclusive, and sustainable world.

Richard Hart’s work is included in Placeholder at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from October 10 to December 9, 2023. 

  • For more information on Richard Hart, visit https://www.instagram.com/richardhartstudio/.
Current Exhibition

Unfolding Doughtie’s Concepts Behind Placeholder

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Placeholder from October 10 to December 9, 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Ellen Zhang

The Stamp Gallery’s newest exhibition Placeholder pays homage to the power of materials and images in their ability to contrast absence and presence, permanence and impermanence. Four artists (Elliot Doughtie, Richard Hart, Danni O’Brien, and James Williams II) have manifested these concepts into works of art that represent their individual interpretations. For those that keep up with the Stamp Gallery’s exhibitions, you may remember Elliot Doughtie from his iconic piece, Laundry Day Dubuffet, as part of the Gallery’s Spring 2023 exhibition UNFOLD. This time around, Doughtie has opted for fruits, instead of socks, as his muse. 

Elliot Doughtie, Laundry Day Dubuffet Series, (2021-ongoing), Plaster and transferred dyed cotton.

As the name suggests, Orange features a collection of partial oranges arranged on a pole. Each orange looks like it has been sliced at a series of odd angles and curves, creating the illusion that the oranges are sprouting out of the pole. What I find intriguing about Doughtie’s work is his ability to play with structure and shape in order to create illusion. In Laundry Day Dubufffet, Doughtie arbitrarily stacks sock replicas, made out of plaster, leaving the viewer confused as to how this work is able to stand on its own. In Orange, the artist also utilizes plaster to mold the shape of partial oranges into the sides of the pole. While it is unclear how these oranges are able to stick to the pole, it creates the perception of oranges growing out of a pole. 

Elliot Doughtie, Orange, 2023, Steel, plaster, wood, epoxy putty, ink, and concrete. 

This visual effect raises the question of permanence versus impermanence: Is this body of work permanently “done”? Will these partial oranges grow into whole oranges? By using fruit as his medium, Doughtie cleverly pokes at the idea of continuous growth. As an organic fruit grows, it undergoes various stages of development until it fully matures and detaches from its source. In Orange, I interpret the pole as the “source,” providing the necessary nutrients for each orange’s growth. Given that the partial oranges have not fully developed, we as the viewers are seeing a snapshot of something “in progress.” 

In addition to permanence versus impermanence, Doughtie alludes to absence versus presence. Upon a closer look, you will notice that the base of Orange has holes with imprints of an orange. This is evidence of a ripe orange that has dropped from its source, yet the orange itself is nowhere to be seen. As a viewer, we are seeing evidence of the full life cycle of an organic orange, from its “in progress” phase to evidence of its maturity. In a way, the sculpture reflects a kind of dynamic life on its own. Through this, Doughtie also simultaneously invokes absence and presence. In this case, we are aware of the existence of something, but its physical presence remains hidden from view. Perhaps, Doughtie will add the ripe orange later on, thus indicating the imprinted hole as a placeholder for the ripe orange. 

Elliot Doughtie, Orange, 2023, Steel, plaster, wood, epoxy putty, ink, and concrete. 

The concepts of permanence versus impermanence and absence versus presence are more than abstract notions. They manifest into individual thoughts, experiences, and emotions. For many students, permanence and perpetuity are sources of fear. They fear making choices due to the anxiety of making the wrong decision and becoming trapped with the consequences of that choice. In my own life, I have also experienced how absence and presence interact with one another. As Doughtie shows the presence of an orange through its absence, I can’t help but think of the well-worn cliche of “you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.” However, it doesn’t seem so cliche when I think back on my friendships that have come and gone; I have been forgetful in appreciating present relationships until they have faded away. 

While some may think Placeholder as a purely abstract exhibition, the themes that the artists convey certainly permeate into the real world. I particularly enjoy how Doughtie experiments with structure and shape to craft the viewer’s perceptions in a way that enhances the message he is communicating. From Laundry Day Dubuffet to Orange, he continuously challenges conventions surrounding form and composition to express nuanced yet relatable concepts. 

Doughtie’s work is included in Placeholder at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from October 10 to December 9, 2023. For more information on Elliot Doughtie, visit https://elliotdoughtie.com/. For more information on Placeholder and related events at The Stamp Gallery, visit https://stamp.umd.edu/centers/stamp_gallery. 

Current Exhibition

The Trans-Organic Unity

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Placeholder from October 10 to December 9, 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Oliver Foley

Danni O’Brien, Alabaster Apple Apparatus (2023)

Danni O’Brien’s Alabaster Apple Apparatus appears to almost writhe on the floor of the Stamp Gallery as an alien, yet inexplicably familiar form. A mechanical device of uncertain function serves as the torso, with tubular branches of gray metal and foam terminating in bulbous, green nodes. These terminal organs are gourds, cast in wax made of melted-down, second-hand candles. Certain components even seem to be branching outward from the central body, assimilating new gourds into the post-gourd technological hybrid.

Danni O’Brien, Alabaster Apple Apparatus (2023)

O’Brien describes their use of wax-cast gourds as a “stand-in for bodies” in their work. The gourds which donated their form to the wax are the organic, human component of O’Brien’s cyborg. O’Brien’s aim is to “push the material gaps between the source object and its pseudo-duplication” by emphasizing the properties of the duplication material which are distinct from the source object. The wax mixtures take on otherworldly greens and silvers which impart the gourds with an uncharacteristically synthetic appearance akin to toxic waste in a sci-fi film. Through their role as proxies for human bodies, these unnatural elements of the gourds and their insertion into the greater machine-creature express O’Brien’s idea of trans-organic unity.

Trans-organic unity refers to a point of technological evolution in which technology becomes integrated with a living organism, resulting in a new form of life which transcends both the organic and the artificial. By uniting disparate materials, some found, some made, O’Brien creates sculptures which envision these future-beings. Yet, despite representing a transcendent form of evolution, O’Brien’s pieces are remarkably fragile. In a discussion about their work, O’Brien emphasized the importance of precarity in their creative process, existence, and vision of the future. O’Brien embraces the instability of their art, from the delicate nature of wax to the haphazard balance of the piece’s metal components. Even in a technologically augmented lifeform, the inherent impermanence of the body remains; O’Brien reveals beauty in the precarity of life in our present and hypothetical futures. 

Placeholder will be on view at the Stamp Gallery at the University of Maryland, College Park, through December 9, 2023.

Quotes taken from Danni O’Brien’s artist talk at Stamp Gallery 

Contemporary Art Purchasing Program (CAPP), Current Exhibition, Explore, Uncategorized

The clock strikes Infertile:  Gabriela Vainsencher’s Hourglass

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What We Do After from August 28 to September 30, 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Reshma Jasmin

*Note: this post refers to womanhood and motherhood in a cis-normative manner due to the organ-centric focus of aging*

In the past three months, my father has brought up the topic of marriage, babies, and my biological clock three times—I am a 21-year-old college student. He likened my ova as the fruits of a mango tree: after it reaches its fruit bearing age, the best mangoes are those produced in the first three years. Ironically, I have endometriosis, so the question of fertility is up in the air.

Gabriela Vainsencher’s Hourglass emanates this anxiety, by creating the anatomy of a cervix in the shape of an hourglass, with menstrual blood slipping through the cervix like sand. But Vainsencher’s experience differs from mine, which makes sense as she is 20 years older, an established artist, and a mother. She is also a cis-woman who went through pregnancy and labor for her own biological daughter, and she depicts womanhood and motherhood within the realm of her personal experience. So the impending midnight strike of a biological clock means something entirely different for her than it does for me. 

Gabriela Vainsencher, Mom, 2021. Porcelain. 8 x 12 feet

Most of Vainsencher’s recent work focuses on the experiences of motherhood, notably Mom (2021) (pictured above). She describes the piece as “…a self-portrait inspired by living through the covid-19 pandemic, which started when my daughter was one year old. For over a year I cared for her, worked from home, and couldn’t get to my studio” (sourced from artist’s website). The large porcelain piece depicts a snake-like figure of arms and breasts doing various motherly tasks. The breasts are arguably what makes the biggest impact. Their literal function is to provide milk, and whether mothers use formula or breastmilk, the symbolism still stands: motherhood is allowing your nutrients to be sucked out of you, or in more palatable terms, giving up yourself for your child. While all the arms are occupied with various motherly tasks like cooking, shopping, cleaning, carrying a child, etc., there are just as many  breasts as there are arms, even though breasts only serve one main function in motherhood. Although there is also the long haired head at one end of the figure and the title to distinguish that the figure is a woman, a mother, the abundance of breasts hint at what else society demands of mothers: women who maintain their role as pretty sexual objects.

Mother Figure Series Sculptures (2021-ongoing) Porcelain, stoneware, underglaze, etc.

Vainsencher’s Mother Figure Series Sculptures (pictured above) depicts worried mothers, pregnant bellies, female anatomy, and the looming biological clock. The stretched, protruding bellies and the folds of skin on the backs of each torso show the toll of pregnancy on the body. The sagging breast depicts the loss of conventional beauty and youth that comes with age and motherhood. The key-chain earrings on oversized ears suggests that mothers are always in motion, always thinking about their children’s needs and schedules.

Gabriela Vainsencher, Hourglass, 2023. Porcelain, underglaze, glaze, acrylic

Upon seeing Gabriella Vainsencher’s Hourglass (pictured above), my first thought was, “How is this mounted on the wall?” Granted, I was watching the early stages of its installation in the Stamp Gallery, and the piece is made of porcelain and glaze, so it seemed a bit delicate to be held up the way that it is (on two screws drilled through the porcelain). In my surprise at how securely the piece was mounted, I realized that my assumption about the fragility and “weakness” of the porcelain was similar to the societal perception of women as the “weaker sex.” But the curved lines of the stretchy maternity pants on the conflated pregnant bellies from Vainsencher’s Mother Figure Series Sculptures and the bulges with the same curved lines tell a different story: they resemble striated muscles, signifying the strength written into a mother’s body.

The muscle-like bulges also create the hourglass shape, and lead the eye to the center of the piece, the cervix. The transition from the warm, cozy golden brown of the uterus to the dark dried period blood of the vaginal canal resembles the passage of time and a movement from comfort to discomfort. This gradient coupled with the rock-like shapes in the two halves of the hourglass shape depict the pain of aging; each period brings one closer to menopause, and the hourglass figure of a conventionally beautiful woman is also lost with time. Simply put, in our culture, old women are not pretty. The biological clock is a term coined by men to describe how a woman’s fertility is headed towards the precarious cliff of the age of 30 and later at menopause, but it also describes the anxieties of women where their worth and standing in society hangs in the balance of their beauty and fertility. 

The rock-like forms passing through the hourglass resonate with me, as periods and ovulation involve immense pain due to endometriosis. And, despite not being a mother, nor subscribing entirely to the identity of woman, nor intending to experience pregnancy and have a biological child; the fear of losing fertility and youth translating to the loss of beauty and worth is an anxiety I share in my own experience. With Hourglass, Vainsencher depicts the universal fear of aging, unique to those who identify as women and have female sex organs, as being built into our bodies as a ticking biological clock, a constant reminder of our fears and strength and worth. 

Gabriela Vainsencher’s work is included in What We Do After at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from August 28 to September 30, 2023. 

For more information on Gabriela Vainsencher visit https://gabrielavainsencher.com/

For more information on What We Do After, and related events, visit https://stamp.umd.edu/centers/stamp_gallery

For more information about the Contemporary Art Purchasing Program (CAPP) visit: https://stamp.umd.edu/centers/stamp_gallery/contemporary_art_collection

Current Exhibition

Process and Bureaucracy

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What We Do After from August 28 to September 30, 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Oliver Foley

Jenny Wu, Magically Found $768,000,000,000, 2022

At first glance, the two-dimensional, wall-mounted, and rectangular form of Jenny Wu’s Magically Found $768,000,000,000 might read as a traditional painting. Yet, upon closer inspection, the viewer will notice the puzzle-like assembly of resinous blocks which comprise the piece. Wu creates these blocks by repeating a process of pouring thick layers of latex paint on glass, letting it dry, and pouring another layer. She cuts cross-sections of the dried paint into mineral-like tiles, which she then assembles into a “sculptural painting,” as Wu calls it. In many traditional paintings, the techniques and processes taken to create the work are hard to discern. In contrast, Wu’s sculptural painting prominently displays the layering process as one of the central aspects of the piece. 

In combination with the piece’s visible craftsmanship, the title itself contributes a great amount of thematic meaning to the artwork. The title quotes a tweet by Michigan Congresswoman Rashida Tlaib which states “Magically found $768,000,000,000 for a defense budget, but the same folks can’t fully fund the $45- $60 billion needed to remove lead service lines in our country.” The bureaucracy of the US government, which overwhelmingly prioritizes national defense over national need, never fails to “magically” find the resources it needs to remain militarily dominant. This piece of process art, which is transparent in method, stands in stark contrast to the opaque nature of the government’s activity.

Wu’s latex agate peels away the near-infinite layers of power dynamics, lobbying, and hidden motivations which go into the government’s budgeting. By encouraging the viewer to ponder the parallels between art and governance, Magically Found $768,000,000,000 encourages transformative thought about what lies beneath the surface of our nation’s institutions. Perhaps through extraction, convolution, and rearrangement, even our government could become as transparent and beautiful as Wu’s sculptural paintings. 

Jenny Wu’s work is included in What We Do After at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from August 28 to September 30, 2023.