Austin Ballard

Austin Ballard (b. Charlotte, NC) received his MFA in Sculpture from the Rhode Island School of Design and his BFA from the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, where he also served as an Assistant Professor in Textiles. Ballard has received numerous awards including a Joan Mitchell Foundation Sculpture Scholarship, Windgate Foundation Fellowship, Kenneth Stubbs Endowed Fellowship and the Rhode Island School of Design Graduate Studies Grant. He has been awarded fellowships to the Museum of Arts and Design, Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, Ox-Bow School of Art, Vermont Studio Center, Wassaic Project, McColl Center for Art + Innovation and the Edinburgh Sculpture Workshop. Ballard has held solo exhibitions at Smack Mellon, NY, Wave Hill, NY, Napoleon, PA, Real Art Ways, CT, and Ithaca College among others. He currently lives in Ridgewood, NY.

Statement
Through visceral and rigorous handmade objects and installations, my work explores the influence domestic space, social anxiety, memory and loss have on our lived experiences. As an object maker, my work often conflates innovation and tradition, man-made and natural materials, high and low art—subverting societal and cultural values of labor associated with handicrafts. Raised in North Carolina, where the textile industry historically played a fundamental and utilitarian role, I have a vested interest in making art accessible. Utilizing traditional techniques of textile pattern-making, natural dying and ceramic slab-building to create ’seamful’ works. Shifting between traditional sculpture and functional design, my graphically patterned surfaces adorn objects both familiar and surreal.

Interview with Austin Ballard

Questions by Andreanna Donahue

Have you always been interested in art-making? How has your experience growing up in the South, as well as the tradition of craft influenced your creative practice?
I would say so. I don't know if I always knew what that meant, but looking back now I was very interested in expressing myself. When I was younger I would draw all day, everyday. Art to me then, and now, has always been about communication. As a shy kid, when people saw my drawings I found that I was able to connect with them in a way that I couldn't with my words. So that really stuck with me.

I grew up in the city of Charlotte, which by North Carolina standards is a densely populated metropolitan city, in fact the largest city in the state. And yet we still didn't have a Contemporary Art Museum. We only just got a museum of Modern Art in 2010. So the art that I encountered as a kid was primarily traditional craft or what you might consider “outsider art”.

In terms of growing up in the south, titles like ‘tradition’ and ‘craft’ were just simply apart of my life. I didn’t even see them as concepts until I left for graduate school. I think my grandmother and father had a huge impact on my understanding of craft and work ethic. My father was a pit crewman in NASCAR and a mechanic, while my grandmother worked numerous jobs, helped raise her kids, grandkids and was a tremendous painter and craftsman. I was raised to value a trade, appreciate those who shared their knowledge and respect them by carrying it forward. In my family character traits like humility and earnestness influenced every aspect of my life, including my art making.

What motivated the transition to fine art from your initial interest in architecture? Who are some architects and designers you’re particularly inspired by?
When I left high school, I realized I would be the first person in my family to go to college. None of us thought you could go to college for art, it just didn't seem realistic. I had a love of architecture growing up, so that seemed like the logical choice. Most of my drawings were of buildings, stairs, and architectural appendages. I loved Le Corbusier’s ‘Ronchamp Chapel’ in school. I would try draw and it from every angle I could find in textbooks. I also found Louis Kahn and especially Frank Lloyd Wright’s ‘Fallingwater' so powerful. Presently though, I’ve been looking more at Catalan architects such as Ricardo Bofill and Antoni Gaudi.

However it took only one semester to realize, what I loved about architecture was going to be a tenth of what my time was going to be spent on in school. So I decided to spend more time in the art department. I took one concepts class with the artist Malena Bergmann, and I was all in. Drawings leaped into Sculptures over night. Instead of depicting images on paper, I was starting to construct imagery through found materials in my fathers auto shop. Without any money, I found and collected all sorts of materials around his shop, the school, the grocery store and goodwills. Then I would put them into groupings or piles. This sort of categorizing subconsciously taught me the inherent values, meaning and identities present within objects. 

You’ve lived in North Carolina, Rhode Island, and are now based in Ridgewood, Queens. How has working in these various art communities been beneficial to your practice?
Scale, Speed and Perspective. Shifting from the South to New England has had a huge impression on my work. Theres a sense of immediacy here that seems in stark contrast to my environment in North Carolina, where pacing and physicality is much slower and heavier. For instance in NC, my work combined laborious practices in wood milling, welding and and clay building to construct precarious compositions that imposed itself on the the viewer.                  

However, when I moved to New England and finally settling into New York, the scale and diversity of making I was a custom to proved much more difficult. So instead of fighting with a city that was constantly fighting, I focused my attention on smaller details and a restrained material palate. In an environment that was focused on more and more, I found that my work was having a greater impact doing more with less.

Can you tell us about your current studio? Has your routine changed since we entered this strange period of quarantine?
This entire experience has been such a roller coaster of thoughts and emotions. I actually got the virus a week before the city shut down. I was out for five days, it was truly terrible. As I recovered and started feeling better, I realized my sense of smell was completely gone. It has been six weeks without smelling anything at all. It’s the weirdest thing. Apparently Covid-19 has a strong ability to attack the olfactory system, damaging the bulbs in your nasal passages that produce your ability to smell. The good news is that these bulbs are self-generating and are likely to reproduce themselves. But there's a one in third chance that they won’t. So it’s a constant waiting game. Which in a way is what this entire experience has become for all of us. We are all in limbo.

Yet in a time with no structure, my studio practice has become incredibly routine. This is of coarse a double edge sword. The balance of work to life ratio is all out of wack. So I’m doing everything I can to make my studio feel less like a job and more like a gift again. I am splitting my studio days into half research and material development and the other half on commissions and finishing my current body of work.

You mention having “the habit of getting really good at a particular process or technique and making a lot of work with it, then moving on to something else completely. This has allowed me to create distinct bodies of work that are often only made from one or two materials.” Can you talk more about your investment in transforming materials (that include wood, ceramics, and textiles) and how your approach to process has developed over time?
I am really interested in understanding the foundation of materials, their histories and how they can be manipulated by hand. But I think the key word there is transformation. Whether it’s with wood, ceramics or textiles I am most excited by upending ones expectations and perceptions of that material or process. In this way I am sort of a nomadic craftsman. My relationship with the handmade is always present in my work. I feel this is the most honest and direct way I can communicate with the viewer. But at the same time I don’t promote a hierarchy of one material or process over another. I think I have always held a healthy dose of skepticism which allowed me to navigate different ideologies or artistic mediums without being beholden to anyone in particular. I guess you could say I am the perpetual student, never the teacher

What is the nature of your relationship with the handmade?
I have always had a deep rooted connection to working with my hands. I think it’s partly from growing up in my father and grandfathers auto shop. Watching them take things apart, rearrange them, replace them and put them back together again. Apart of it was receiving the encouragement and love from my mother and grandmother when they would ask me to draw or paint our house or garden or grandpa in his favorite chair. But as an introspective person, I think there is magic in just ‘doing’ and not planning or designing too much. I think thats why I never took to using the computer, assistants or even sketching all that often. I could think through the work to death. Id rather just start working with my hands and be surprised in the moment.

You’re drawn to Horror and Sci Fi films from the 70s and 80s. How does this show up in your work?
First off let me preface by saying I love being scared, surprised and held in suspense by a film.  I think it’s an incredibly visceral and vulnerable place to be. From an early age I was fascinated with props, models and special effects. I think it goes back to the idea of transformation again. Where spackle and painted styrofoam can morph into car sized chunks of concrete from a fallen building or common kitchen items like corn syrup and food coloring can become the ingredients of the scariest moments in film. Theres an appreciation of “DIY” making, process and figuring things out on the fly that I am attracted to. It was like learning how a magician pulls off their tricks. But more than that, this genre of film making has the uncanny ability to ground our wildest fears, anxieties and fantasies in reality. In some way I hope my work shares this duality. 

Can you talk about the genesis of your totemic lampshade sculptures in Shadow Lake at Smack Mellon? How was this installation informed by personal memory and loss?
Shadow Lake was an exercise in memory. I attempted to reconcile my memory of my childhood home with that of my grandmothers memory of it. Transposing the footprint of our house on the gallery floor, I hung a different chandelier at the center of each room. The chandeliers were made from latch-hook canvas, commonly used by children for needle-point, hot glue, thread and woven cane. Inspired by the textiles of my grandmothers house, I pleated, draped and piled lampshades into cascading totemic forms. The sculptures displayed an affection for the handmade while suggesting more mysterious factors are at play. Raised in a devout Catholic household, I fused the visual language of my religious upbringing with an early fascination of 80’s science-fiction and noir to create objects that are eerily sublime.

Furniture, and in particular the household lamp, acts as a surrogate for the human body. A light left on in an empty room reminds us that someone was just there. In Shadow Lake, I worked with light and shadow to generate an ethereal presence, which evoked the functional aspect of domestic furnishings while creating an intimate dynamic between object and viewer.

Can you share some insight into your WAVEFORM series, especially the use of cane webbing and OSB pedestals?
WAVEFORM was an exhibition of vessel-like sculptures I called “Dappled Dunes” that I had been working on for about three years. Incorporating traditional techniques of textile pattern-making, coiling, and ceramic slab-building, these votive objects bring together handicrafts from generations past and present. Although constructed from woven rattan the sculptures clone digital effects to suggest an artificial engineering. Where the extruded dots and dyed surfaces have more in common with the pixels in a JPEG or the gradient on a computer screen. I was attracted to the OSB panels, firstly because they are a cheap composite of wood scraps that is compressed together which creates an interesting conversation around the idea of waste, the value of labor and functionality. And secondly, I wanted to create a tension between the material histories and identities that are conjured by the OSB wood pedestals and the woven cane sculptures. 

You’re currently “developing a new series of sculptures that shift away from the functional and instead explore other objects that aid in the body's movement through space.” What motivated the new direction of these assemblages?
Yeah, I’m really excited about some recent developments in the studio. Since Shadow Lake and WAVEFORM, I have shifted away from complete representations furniture and vessels. The new work is exploring less about the relationship between  “design” and function and more about the “ergonomics”. This direction has come about in part to a series of personal health conditions I’ve suffered over the last year and have been dealing with my whole life. BPPV, nerve damage, and chronic tendonitis are often daily battles. As I get older, I start to see my body as something separate from myself. More like it’s a vessel that takes active mending. This new relationship to my body, with all its strengths and weaknesses, is being explored in a series of new sculptures. Taking reference and inspiration from my frequent visits to doctors waiting rooms, physical therapy offices, and climbing gyms.

Over the past decade you’ve spent time at many residencies, including Wassaic, Ox-Bow, and McColl Center for Art + Innovation. Is there a residency experience that resonates with you more than others? What did you focus on while you were there?
I have to say, one that you didn't mention, that has had the most sincere impact on me personally is The Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown. First off, you have seven months to live and work through your practice with complete support and funding by the Work Center. For someone who's work is so labor intensive, I cant say enough about the gift of time they give you. Not to mention the people on staff and in the town are so welcoming and warm to the visiting artists. After seven months in Provincetown, I felt at home there. I’m sure everyones experience is different, but that place is truly a gift.

What are the best exhibitions you’ve seen in recent memory?
I’ll just list the ones that come to mind: Arlene Shechet’s current show at Pace, Michelle Segre and Julia Bland’s duel show at Derek Eller, Jane South at Spencer Brownstone, Kyung-Me & Harry Gould Harvey IV at Bureau, and Claudia Bitran’s beautiful paintings at this years Spring Break.

Who are some contemporary artists you’re excited about?
There are so many, but here are some that quickly come to mind: Tamara Johnson, Claudia Bitran, Harry Gould Harvey IV, Sarah Zapata. Katie Bell, Julia Bland, Jonathan Frioux, Karen Lederer, Amie Cunat, Bayne Peterson, George Jenne, Abraham Murley, Susan Metrican, Rob MacInnis, and Jagdeep Raina. 

What have you been reading, watching, or listening to lately?
For music: Dengue Fever’s Escape from the Dragon House, Thomas Barrandon’s The Quiet Earth, Boy Harsher’s Careful, Pokey LaFarge’s Rock Bottom Rhapsody, John Prime’s Self-Titled and Blaze Foley’s Sittin’ by the Road.

I definitely recommend watching/rewatching Rear Window. The film takes on a whole new meaning living under quarantine in New York. Some other films I’ve recently rewatched are: Alien, Death Becomes Her, The Witches, American Werewolf in London, What about Bob, Heat, Invasion of the Body Snatchers (78’), The Game, and Rope.

Podcasts I usually listen to in the studio are: Revisionist History with Malcolm Gladwell, Fresh Air, Invisibilia, WTF, The Dollop, and Heavyweight. I recently finished Akil Kumarasamy’s book Half Gods and Amina Cain’s book of poems entitled Creature. I am looking forward to starting Cain’s next novel Indelicacy.

Can you tell us about a few meaningful artworks or objects you live with?
Im slowly building my art collection and its so heartwarming to surround myself with these beautiful works by really great people. In my living room I have a few paintings and drawings by the artists Sam Jablon, Karen Lederer, Jonathan Frioux, Matt Crabe, Jagdeep Raina, Aaron Richmond, and a small sculpture by Amie Cunat. I also have a collection of textiles and tapestries that my partner and I have collected over the years including a couple of small Molas from Columbia and a 8 foot patchwork quilt from India that we display on the wall.

To find out more about Austin Ballard and his work, check out his website.