Kate McCammon

BIO

Born in the small town of Bridgeport, West Virginia and raised by two busy doctors in a family of three older siblings, a twin brother, and multiple cats, Kate McCammon learned early on that she had a knack for creating, a passion for art, and a pile of sketchbooks to prove it. She took her passion beyond her rural state and went on to earn her BFA in Painting from the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) in Baltimore in 2012 and MFA in Studio Art from the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts (PAFA) in Philadelphia in 2016. In between and after her educational pursuits, she has been awarded a number of residencies, including the Starry Night Residency Program in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico; the Scuola Internazionale di Grafica in Venice, Italy; and the Vermont Studio Center in Johnson, Vermont. Upon earning her Master’s degree, she has been included in a number of group exhibitions including shows at First Street Gallery in New York City, NY; Gross McCleaf Gallery in Philadelphia, PA; and at The Art Trust in West Chester, PA; among others. In 2020 and 2021 she had solo exhibitions at AUTOMAT Gallery in Philadelphia and at Curio. Gallery & Creative Supply in Lancaster, PA. Currently living in Philadelphia, she works as PAFA’s Student Experience Coordinator while maintaining her studio practice. With a rooted painter’s mentality, she is currently working with mixed media and photo collage on a body of work that hits close to home—a series of what she refers to as Journal Portraits, which explores layers of identity and familial narratives.

ARTIST STATEMENT

A photo collage series that began in 2021, Journal Portraits are inspired by my dad’s medical school journals and by my art school journals. When my dad passed away, I inherited his journals. I remember flipping through the dog-eared pages filled with cryptic writing and anatomical diagrams, slanted by his left hand. How many drawings had I scribbled in the margins of my own journals I kept while studying art? How many thoughts did I examine between each line? And how many lines did I cross out? The similarities had nowhere to hide. With Journal Portraits I connect the two experiences in context with the lives that surrounded them, as captured in photographs and the written word. The way we document ourselves can be as fragile and varied as the lives we live, but even so the markings of this documentation take on a material form in our memory that is as detailed as it is iridescent.

Interview with Kate McCammon

Can you tell us a bit about your background and how you became interested in becoming an artist?

It’s hard to remember a time when I wasn’t drawing. I doodled everywhere—in notebooks, on homework assignments, and on the walls of my childhood home. Life as a kid was fairly busy. My parents were doctors. I have four siblings (one twin), and we had even more cats. Art was something of an escape, a way to express myself in a small West Virginian town within a hectic family.

Can you tell us about some of your most memorable early influences?

When I was fourteen, my private art teacher, Georgette Griffith, introduced me to Georgia O’Keeffe’s work. Her story as a female artist resonated with me, and she became my first art hero. My art teacher gave me her copy of the LIFE Magazine issue from March 1, 1968, which featured O’Keeffe on the cover with the caption “Georgia O’Keeffe in New Mexico: Stark Visions of a Pioneer Painter.” I still have it to this day.

Where are you currently based and what brought you there? Are there any aspects of this specific location or community that have inspired your work?

I have been based in Philadelphia ever since starting graduate school at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts (PAFA) in 2014. Life in the city, in Philadelphia in particular, has a lot to offer that wasn’t abundant in my small-town upbringing—museums, murals, artist collectives, and so on. PAFA inspired me to blend traditional and contemporary practices, and the connections I’ve developed with students, faculty, and colleagues have made it feel like a second home. I feel fortunate every time I get to visit a student’s studio, sit in on critiques, and curate school exhibitions. It helps me build relationships with other artists and nurture my own creative path.

What is your studio space like? What makes your space unique to you?

I have a studio at PAFA. It’s an interior studio on the 6th floor of the Hamilton Building. I’ve had this space for a number of years, and it has witnessed many art phases and all of the meltdowns and breakthroughs in between. It’s interesting to reflect on how my studio itself tells the story of my artistic growth. For instance, I have this old wooden shelf that was a grad school hand-me-down. Over the years it has collected numerous mementos from my friends, intermixed with supplies and photos. On the topmost shelf there’s a nest made from strips of paper with a couple of stones inside it—a gift from one of my best friends, who I met in my first PAFA drawing class. On the middle shelf, there are glue sticks, a staple gun, and a photo of me and my dad. The photo was taken two years before he passed away, and his smile reminds me to “Get it done”, as he would always say. I also have a cloth paintbrush holder that is pinned to the wall. It has to be 15 years old and has been with me through every studio I have had. The layers of paint and smudges show it. At one time in grad school, I was doing minimalist abstract paintings. A critic visited my studio, gestured to the splotchy paintbrush holder, and said “You need to figure out how to put this into your work.” That suggestion stuck with me. How do I embrace imperfections? And are imperfections, in some sense, a sign of humanness? These questions have extended beyond just my art and into my personal life.

What is a typical day like? If you don't have a typical day, what is an ideal day? Do you work in large chunks of time, or throughout the day?

A typical day in the studio entails working on my Journal Portrait installation, which has grown to a series of over 500 photo collages on 6” x 4” canvas panels. The biggest spurts of work are on the weekends. During the work week, I’m a bit of a night owl. I’ll turn my kitchen counter into a work surface whenever a burst of creative energy hits. My weekend studio time starts in the late morning. Before I do any work, I need to select the music I’ll be listening to for the next six hours or so on repeat. Lately, it’s been Taylor Swift’s evermore. I setup my materials on my worktable while approximately 500 collaged portraits watch me get situated, eagerly anticipating the next set of siblings that will join them on my studio walls. By the end of my studio day, my table (and sometimes my floor) will be a mess of photo scraps, fragmented images of hair and cut out limbs, finished collages (20 – 30 depending on the day), and glue smudges. The day usually ends by photographing my newest pieces, arranging them on the wall, having a quiet moment to reflect, or journaling.

What gets you in a creative groove or flow? Is there anything that interrupts your creative energy?

So many things help me get into a creative rhythm. To set the stage for a studio groove, I need most of the following: Taylor Swift, working headphones, a cozy cardigan, a caffeinated latte of some sort, a tidy worktable, and a pile of materials to work with. I often get collage materials printed in bulk. When I reach a point where I have used fragments of nearly every photo in finished portraits, I come to a bit of a standstill that can slow down my process. However, I see this momentum shift as a positive thing. My typical fast-paced making becomes slower and more careful as I attempt to make use of the photo scraps I have left. If I happen to be working from home, my cat—who either decides to sit on, swat at, or play with my materials–is the culprit for interrupting my process.

How do you maintain momentum in your practice? Is there anything that hinders or helps your focus?

Everyone needs to feel like they are themselves. Art helps me do that. It’s a habit that satisfies a need for me to be who I am. No matter what’s going on, I make time to go to the studio. It’s something I know I will do. It’s a given, even if I don’t make anything. Because without it, I wouldn’t be my authentic self. And without a supportive community, I wouldn’t have such comfort in showing who I really am.

What medium/media are you working in right now? What draws you to this particular material or method?

I am currently working with photo collage. I love the immediate and honest nature of the materials. I love that it lends itself to a playful, direct method of working. It’s both unforgiving and fragile at the same time. I enjoy the additive and subtractive elements of collage and the creative dance that develops between the two.

Can you walk us through your overall process in making your current work? Does drawing play a role in your process?

My process begins with gathering materials, primarily photographs of journals and copies of family photos. I’ll spend a lot of time going through original albums or scrolling through photos on my phone. The journals are particularly captivating. I photograph their pages from various angles. Sometimes I zoom in on certain words, and other times I snap a photo while turning a page, which causes the text to blur. From there, I print the photos and assess them all collectively. I cut bits and pieces away, often starting with the figures, until my worktable looks like Christmas morning with piles and piles of scraps. The output is sometimes serious, often ghostly, but the process can be playful, like unwrapping a present or experimenting with a puzzle of your own making.

What is exciting about your process currently?

I’m excited by the playful and direct process of photo collage, which has been a change of pace from my earlier more sustained practices. No matter what kind of process my work takes on, it’s important to me that there is always some level of discovery. When I sit down to work on a Journal Portrait, I go into it not knowing how it will look in the end. As I engage in piles of scraps and juxtapose images together, I find formal and narrative revelations. Sometimes a particular word from a journal page will dictate a move, and other times I’ll be driven by a photo fragment of a landscape or family member. I also use photos of finished Journal Portraits as collage material. This process takes me back to my painting practice from years and years ago when I would paint over old paintings. Sometimes the history of the original would show through or become transformed, a process that always involved an element of surprise. I am also excited by the relationship that each individual portrait has with each other. Every time I add a finished collage to the installation, the Journal Portrait takes on a new life.

Can you talk about some of the ongoing interests, imagery, and concepts that have informed your process and body of work over time? How do you anticipate your work progressing in the future?

I’ve always been interested in old family photos. When I was in high school working on a portfolio with Georgette, I made a mixed media drawing of a photo album. The pages were filled with little graphite self portraits neatly framed with photo corners. Years later, as I developed my creative practice, old photos and albums continuously became a motif or reference in my work to explore themes around memory, grief, and loss. Some of the personal photos that have inspired me most are ones of sentimental and significant places in my life. Some of these images include snapshots of my childhood house. Its walls were decorated with homy wallpaper that spelled out the “ABC’s” in between floral red hearts. Snippets of Lake Michigan are also present in many of the collages. My dad lived in Michigan before he passed away—in a quaint A-frame that overlooked the lake with some of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. Moments of these personal images and landscapes appear throughout my Journal Portrait installation.

I have a lot of ideas for future projects. I want to explore Journal Portraits or versions of them in different formats and configurations—such as in the form of a book or photo album—and think about the ways in which the viewer can interact with the work.

Have you had any epiphanies recently that have changed the course of your work or caused you to shift directions?

Yes, I recently had what I would call a material epiphany through the process of making the Journal Portraits. I made some of the very first ones with photo collage and translucent fabric. At the time, inclusion of fabric established textural variation and served as a veil over some of the imagery and text—a motif that was conceptually important to me. Over time fabric began to interest me less and less. I got to the point where I was no longer invested in the idea of the veil. I no longer wanted to hide. This felt like an important shift in the project. I felt liberated by letting go of the fabric and was able to fully embrace the materiality of the photos and vulnerability of the content.

Can you share some of your recent influences? Are there specific works—from visual art, literature, film, or music — that are important to you?

A painting that sticks with me is Ladder to the Moon by Georgia O’Keeffe. I came across it a number of years ago at the Whitney Museum of Art. It’s a painting with a simple composition: a ladder hangs in a turquoise sky above a mountainous landscape and below a quarter moon. I was struck by its strangeness and its simplicity. It was also unlike any artwork I had previously seen from my beloved art hero. I started thinking a lot about this painting when my dad passed away and then again several years later when I went through a challenging life transition. I once read somewhere that Ladder to the Moon is about transition—from the phase of the moon, the slight variation of the sky, and the orientation of the ladder. This image gave me comfort through times of loss and change. It became the visual representation to my mantra: “This too shall pass.”

Can you elaborate on a recent work of yours, and tell us the story of how it came to be?

Journal Portraits started in 2021 and originally began as a way to connect with my dad. When he passed away in 2018, I inherited his medical school journals. I remember looking carefully at every fragile, discolored page, turning them gently, and every cryptic word slanted by his left hand. Every mark on every page was a piece of him. His writings and anatomical diagrams made me think of my art school journals. A habit I’ve obsessively kept since my undergraduate days at MICA, I journaled all through my art education. I wrote about critiques and influences, good and bad studio days. I scrapbooked sentimental receipts and jotted down lists of exhibitions or residencies I wanted to apply to. I was so excited to learn that journaling was something Dad and I shared and knew I wanted to eventually incorporate it into my art.

A couple years later the first few Journal Portraits were made. I started collaging printed photographs of journal pages, copies of old family photographs and portraits of me and my dad, and sometimes veils of sheer fabric. I began to see the collages as reinvented memories and narrative investigations about loss and the ways in which we document our lives. While the series began as a way to cope with my dad’s passing, I eventually realized a broader connection with my own practice of journaling, which evolved from concerning purely artistic matters to unmasking facets of my own identity.

Have you overcome any memorable roadblocks or struggles in your practice that you could share with us?

Sometimes I struggle with that internal voice that tells me that I should be doing this or that. I experienced this anxiety throughout the beginning stages of my Journal Portrait series when it was still my side project. My “main” work at the time consisted of fabric and mixed media paintings. While it was different from Journal Portraits in its approach, it was similar thematically. Because I felt like I had to maintain a body of work, I put myself in a box and was afraid to deviate from it. These studio days felt very forced, as I clung to using fabric as if it were my sole, creative identity. All the while, my early Journal Portraits were calling to me. I realized I had fallen into the trap of focusing on what I thought others wanted me to me to make, instead of what I wanted to make. Eventually I allowed myself to fully embrace my portrait project. Through these internal battles, I also realized that I didn’t need to construct a hierarchy of studio practices. I could have multiple approaches and bodies of work developing simultaneously.

Who are some contemporary artists you’re excited about? Is there a recent exhibition that stood out to you?

In the fall, I saw the exhibition “Containing Multitudes: Anne Minich's Head Series, '74 - '23” at Commonweal Gallery in Philadelphia. The curation and arrangement of the work has stuck with me. The series was comprised of mixed media silhouettes of heads that were displayed along the perimeter of the gallery. In the center of the room was a painterly, more representational portrait of the artist. I was struck by the relationship between this early portrait and the silhouetted heads and by the way the heads—most of them without facial features—carried such a present humanness and truth to them. Their seemingly absent quality allowed me as the viewer to fill in the blanks and reveal the unseen.

Do you have any tips or advice that someone has shared with you that you have found particularly helpful?

During grad school, I had an experimental drawing class with a phenomenal teacher, and one of the things he said that I wrote down in my journal and starred was “Make your work as human as you feel you are.” He would always say, “Art from art about life.”

What are you working on in the studio right now? What’s coming up next for you?

I am happy to share that I will soon be taking down my installation in my studio and exhibiting it in Stage College, PA for an upcoming three-person show curated by project ieerie at Woskob Family Gallery. An exhibition focusing on the themes around art and mental health, I am excited for the opportunity to reconfigure my Journal Portrait installation and see my collages in a new space and within the context of two other artists’ work. I am also looking forward to having blank studio walls for the first time in years and beginning a new Journal Portrait installation. I have a stack of hundreds of collages that are waiting to be mounted.

To find out more about Kate McCammon check out her Instagram.