Alexis Granwell

Alexis Granwell investigates the potential of pulp to record touch and create intimacy, much as a handwritten letter does, by offering a space for emotional connection to the viewer. During complex political times such as these, introspection and tactility feel necessary to counterbalance the fast-paced digital culture where information can be lost in the glossiness of a flattened image. Hapticity – a cross-disciplinary theory that explains how visual perceptions translate into internal experiences and feelings – draws us into the body, beyond surface encounters. Granwell began working with paper to engage in such a sensory experience. For Granwell, her works are as much about painting as they are about sculpture, referencing hues from fleeting, everyday moments like dusk or bruised fruit. She sees these inspirations as events and is invested in how color and texture can activate emotion, connecting to both our inward and outward experience, and creating meaning in our existence. Her sculptures evoke tension, awkwardness, loss, and pleasure.

Interview with Alexis Granwell

Can you tell us a bit about your background and how you became interested in becoming an artist? Who or what were some of your most important early influences?
I think I always knew that I wanted to be an artist.

My grandmother was an artist and for a period of time, she designed clothing. Eventually, she had to give up her business, but she painted until the end of her life and she crocheted weird and amazingly detailed dolls. She was always working with her hands, and both her and my mom encouraged me to experiment with drawing and clay from an early age. I would often build small models or dioramas as a child, creating little worlds. The discovery of making worlds has never left me.

In high school, I began painting and drawing obsessively, landscapes in particular. Early influences included The Bay Area Painters, Cy Twombly, Joan Mitchell, and Sam Gilliam. I loved energetic paintings that could read as both spaces and surfaces. 

I studied painting at Boston University’s College of Fine Arts BFA program and became increasingly interested in the relationship between observation and abstraction. Shortly after starting the MFA program at the University of Pennsylvania as a painter, I expanded my practice with interdisciplinary approaches, exploring printmaking and sculpture. These new processes connected me to the language of material, ultimately leading me to embrace the use of paper, with a focus on the seductive surface texture of pulp.

Where are you currently based and what initially attracted you to working in this place? Are there any aspects of this specific location or community that have inspired aspects of your work?
I have been in Philadelphia for close to 20 years, initially moving here for graduate school. Some of my favorite aspects of the city include the idiosyncratic architecture, the close-knit community, and the artist-run spaces. 

I like that there is a vibrant art scene here, but there is also time and space to make your work. A friend visiting from NYC called it “the psychic space” to make things. There is space to slow down. I live in West Philly and there are tons of trees and parks. I spend a lot of time in The Woodlands, a historic cemetery, pondering my mortality and staring at thousands of trees.

I think it’s no coincidence that I discovered paper making in Philadelphia, because there is such a history of craft here, particularly with fibers and wood. I’ve been fortunate to meet some incredible paper makers, printmakers, fiber artists, and ceramicists, and I am grateful for the Philadelphia institutions like The Fabric Workshop Museum that highlight artists working with conceptual elements, craft, and installation.

Can you describe your studio space? What are some of the most crucial aspects of a studio that make it functional? Do any of these specific aspects directly affect your work?
My studio is located in South Philly in an artist building with about 50 studios. There is great natural light in there.

I create the paper for my sculptures at separate papermaking studios due to specific equipment I need (such as a paper beater or concrete floor with a drain for all the water). I have worked at Paper Think Tank, Philadelphia, PA; Pyramid Atlantic, Hyattsville, MD; and Dieu Donné, New York, NY. 

Occasionally, I work at a separate communal woodworking studio in the city. I am grateful to have so many studio resources for different phases of the process.

What is a typical day like? If you don't have a typical day, what is an ideal day?
A typical day is going to the studio before I teach. I work in the studio during afternoons and weekends. An ideal day is all about being in flow. I might start by going for a walk or doing some yoga. Staring at clouds is great too.

I love having time to draw and then several hours to experiment with materials or work intensely on pieces. I prefer larger uninterrupted blocks of time, if possible.

What gets you in a creative mindset?
Reading poetry and writing can help me get into the headspace of expansion and experimentation. Last year I took an incredible poetry class with Holly Wren Spaulding’s Poetry Forge school. I learned about the Zuihitsu form (translated as “running brush”), and I became fascinated with how fragments in language can build new connections for meaning, or suggest atmosphere or feeling. It’s really similar to the collage work that I create with my pulp paintings.

Writing poetry and reading poetry has helped me set the stage for my sculptures, generate titles, etc.

What criteria do you follow for selecting materials? How long have you worked with this particular media or method?
I am interested in materials with metaphorical implications. Paper is so much about the body because of its responsiveness—while the pulp absorbs my movements as I work, it also has a life of its own that informs the final piece. When I leave a sculpture to dry in the studio, the fibers shift and transform in ways I respond to when I return. The changed shape of the sculpture will allow me to view it in a new way that inspires improvisation with texture, color, and layering.

I have been working with handmade paper since 2009.

Can you walk us through your overall process?
I begin by making pulp paintings in wet, handmade paper, sensitive to the ways its surface records my gestures, and allowing the pigments of color to disperse and build. These fragmented paintings are pieced together, sometimes embedded with textiles, and laminated over papier-mâché sculptures like a skin of painterly marks. Finally, I create pedestals with wood, steel, or other industrial materials that juxtapose or echo the finished forms.

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?
My goal is to capture the directness of my interactions with paper pulp and pigment as a means to reflect the somatic, sensory, and experiential. I want my sculptures to heighten the experience of encounter, emphasize the body in space, and suggest connection to the larger world. For me, the notion that visuality can be tactility, pushing us beyond surface encounters with art works, reinvigorates abstraction in a crucial way.

I am drawn to color that evokes ephemeral natural processes, both in the chosen hue and the way color interacts with the sculptural surface. I gather color ideas through my own experiences, both external (taking a walk; standing in my kitchen) and internal (a certain memory; a physical feeling).

I know that in the face of this violent and complex time, poetry is needed. And it can make us feel more deeply. I am committed to representing what is physical, transitory, and quotidian, even if it also means confronting the anxiety, grief, and mystery that accompanies awareness of the ever-changing world.

For my next exhibition, I am interested in playing with site-specificity and outdoor works that engage the environment.

Do you pursue any collaborations, projects, or careers in addition to your studio practice? If so, can you tell us more about those projects, and are there connections between your studio practice and these endeavors?
Having been a co-founder, director, and member (currently an alumni) of Tiger Strikes Asteroid gallery for thirteen years, I have made the collaborative elements of curatorial work, project development, and exhibition presentation essential to my practice. Curation engages my natural inclination toward research and has helped me better understand and contextualize artistic practices, while connecting with different artists, organizations, and sites has hugely expanded my sense of community both in Philadelphia and elsewhere.

Currently, I’m participating in a project in Mexico City (CDMX) scheduled for 2023 called Where we left off - The Tiger Strikes Asteroid network has partnered with a group of CDMX artists. Artists will be paired together to collaborate in different modes. There will be two shows, one in CDMX and one in Philadelphia. This project is curated by David Ayala Alfonso (CDMX) and Tally de Orellana (London).

As a result of the pandemic, many artists have experienced limited access to their studios or loss of exhibitions, income, or other opportunities. Has your way of working (or not working) shifted significantly during this time? Are there unexpected insights or particular challenges you’ve experienced?
It has been such a challenging few years, but I am fortunate that I had a space to work in throughout the pandemic. Making work definitely kept me from completely losing my mind during the more intense lockdown periods. Strangely, I think my work became more lyrical or joyful over the last two years. I’m guessing it’s a release from the horrors of the world.

At the beginning of the pandemic, I spent a lot of time building sculptures on my kitchen table. I would work there in between my adjunct teaching on Zoom all day. I enjoyed living with my work and building within my domestic space. The shapes within my home, like pots, vases, or chairs, influenced the shapes and movements in my sculpture.

During this time of working at home, I also found a bit more balance, such as being able to start a garden or take walks or experiment with a recipe while teaching and making art. I like the idea of everything feeding everything.

Can you share some of your recent influences? Are there specific works—from visual art, literature, film, or music—that are important to you?
The poet Kimiko Hahn’s “Narrow Road to the Interior” is a new favorite of mine. I am inspired by the ways she plays with lists to explore the complexities of gender, identity, and feeling.

The questions raised by my choice to sculpt with soft materials connects to an art historical lineage. In Eccentric Abstraction, artists like Eva Hesse, who began as a painter, explored the materiality and sensuality of the sculptural surface and ambiguous form as a way to build meaning and language. I also identify with the interest in color, craft, and visual pleasure shown by artists of the Pattern and Decoration Movement, in which the playful work of Ree Morton and Betty Woodman engages paradoxes surrounding feminism and craft. 

Some works that have deeply inspired me:

Louise Bourgeouis’ “Personages”

Lynda Benglis’ “Fallen Paintings”

Jay De Feo’s “The Rose”

Sam Gilliam’s “Capes”

Cy Twombly’s assemblages

Anne Hamilton’s “Paper Chorus”

Who are some contemporary artists you’re excited about? What are the best exhibitions you’ve seen in recent memory and why do they stand out?
Phyllida Barlow’s show “glimpse” at Hauser and Wirth, Los Angeles was incredible. Her sculptures are both monumental and intimate. So many wonderful moves with color and texture and materials. So much detail in these mammoth environments.

 One recent discovery is Suzanne Jackson. She has a brilliant way of building sculptural paintings that float within the space and it is breathtaking.

Sahar Khoury is someone I’ve been excited about for a few years. The work engages in craft but is highly conceptual and fluidly bridges, abstraction, political elements, and found elements. It has a wonderful directness.

 Other artists I’ve been excited about are Michelle Segre, Brie Ruais, Arlene Shechet, Hong Hong, Maren Hassinger, and Clare Grill. 

Do you have any tips or advice that someone has shared with you that you have found particularly helpful?
If you are stuck, make 100 drawings.

It’s ok to destroy things.

What are you working on in the studio right now? What’s coming up next for you?
I just finished a beautiful group exhibition called Fields and Formations curated by Kristen Hileman. The show explored abstract, process-based works by twelve women and non-binary artists from the Mid-Atlantic region. The show traveled from The Delaware Contemporary, Wilmington DE to The American University Museum at Katzen Art Center, Washington, DC.

Over the next year, I will be creating work for a two-person exhibition with Eleanna Anagnos, curated by Tally de Orellana. The show Shift. Breathe. Expand at Amelie A. Wallace Gallery at SUNY Old Westbury College will feature works that focus on the potential of paper pulp as a flexible and emotive medium.

Anything else you would like to share?
Thank you so much! Come visit Philly soon!

To find out more about Alexis, check out her website and Instagram.