Elizabeth S. Quinn

BIO

A Philadelphia based designer and artist, Elizabeth's research and craft focus on slow, sustainable and circular design. She teaches design at Drexel University and currently holds the position of Director of Talent Development at Grant Blvd, a circular apparel brand focused on training women in underserved communities for jobs in the fashion industry.

STATEMENT

I have been experimenting with creating bioplastics for use for the past year, drawn to the rawness and simplicity of the material. But it wasn’t until I started experimenting with growing mycelium as a foundational structure and combining it with the bioplastic samples that I fell in love with the process and the outcome. These natural components set in unison with stainless steel creations are an example of how our industrialized world still has a chance to work with, through and for the natural world. I have begun entering my work into art exhibitions this year because I would like the opportunity to start conversations about our role as creatives to protect this beautiful planet that we all inhabit. I don’t consider myself an artist, or even a maker for that matter. The materials I work with existed long before they entered my space and I merely capture a moment in their journey on this earth. It is my greatest hope that once these objects frozen in time have fulfilled their purpose in this current state, that they will be given back to the earth to start anew.

Interview with Elizabeth S. Quinn

Written by Andreana Donahue

Can you walk us through your overall process? How would you describe your approach to manipulating materials? What about decision-making and editing?

I’m not sure that ‘artist’ is a term I’d use to describe myself, honestly. I consider myself to be a maker and an innovator - experimenting, researching, and playing within many different medium and interested in discovery over creation. I have a master’s degree in Fashion Design and spent over 15 years in the apparel industry designing for brands that mostly followed set trends and rarely took risks, so when I transitioned out of that and began focusing on my own creative work, I didn’t want to think about design principles or set expectations for the outcomes.

I’m also a people and planet advocate and teach sustainable and responsible design practices in higher education. So, material selection is definitely one of the most important considerations in my work. I find myself more and more drawn to expressing my connection to people and the planet through the use of innovative and Earth-friendly materials.

I have been experimenting with creating bioplastics and growing mycelium as a foundational structure, which has been extremely rewarding and also has some inherent challenges. When working with natural materials that need to be cooked or grown, I spend a great deal of time creating molds and forms that the materials will be put into; but once there, my time becomes more passive, waiting to see how nature will take its course. These materials take time to grow and form - sometimes they’re fully realized in just a few days, and other times it is several weeks before I even know what the surface might look like.

I love that I don’t really have control over these materials, and they develop in ways I can’t consistently anticipate. This makes combining them with handmade and found items so exciting - it’s all about the discovery of how these living materials will form relationships with manmade objects. Since this is such an organic way of working, I try not to alter the outcome once I’ve set the process in motion. Whether something is “successful” or not is often determined by the visceral and emotional reactions I have when I first unmold the piece.

Where are you currently based and what initially attracted you to working in this community? Are there any aspects of this specific place that have surfaced in your work?

I live in Bucks County, Pennsylvania - it’s about an hour’s drive north of Philadelphia. Being so close to the city, and also within driving distance of the Pocono Mountains and the Jersey Shore, I’m fortunate to have relationships with a diverse community of creative people and endless inspiration in both urban and rural environments.

My connection to the natural world is a very important part of my overall wellbeing and my creative process, and one of my favorite parts of living in the northeast is that we experience all four seasons. I’m always discovering something new in my surroundings, especially over the past few years with climate change having a significant impact on weather patterns, vegetation, and wildlife, and I try to find ways of incorporating these findings into my work.

What is a typical day like?

I have a very small home studio space that I spent quite a bit of time rearranging and organizing over the past year during the pandemic to be a more efficient, inviting, and inspiring space. Somehow, there’s an airiness to the studio, even though quite literally every inch wall to wall and floor to ceiling is being used. I have prints of several artists on white walls and lots of plants in every nook of space I can spare. Having these things in my space is very important in setting the mood for when I work.

I think it’s a blessing and a curse that my studio is in the home that I share with my husband and our two young boys. Any hour of the day or night that inspiration strikes, I can just walk downstairs to work. But even though it’s just that simple, because I’m surrounded by family and daily tasks, I often put my own work last on the ever-present and ever-growing list of things to do. On the other hand, my studio often extends out to our kitchen where I cook bioplastics and break down mycelium roots, and to the living room floor where I cut large textiles and can work on smaller projects while spending time with our boys.

During the pandemic, my work and my ways of working have shifted quite a bit. I teach part-time at a university that moved to the virtual classroom last spring at the same time our boys also transitioned to virtual learning. For a short while all work outside of what was absolutely essential completely stopped and it took a bit of time to realize that sheltering in place could actually be a benefit to my creative work. Spending more time with my family and slowing down in virtually every aspect of our lives offered me clarity and allowed me to be more experimental and carefree about my process.

What gets you in a creative groove? What puts a damper on your groove?

I get really excited about the strangest things… mushrooms flowering on a wood chip pile, monstera roots weaving together in a clear vase, brightly colored mold growing in the compost bin. Seeing nature, unfiltered and unaltered, gets me excited to experiment with new materials and find ways of celebrating all that the earth is so generous in providing. The biggest thing that puts a damper on my groove is when I get too inside my head and let my thoughts take control instead of opening myself up to the possibilities around me.

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

There are so many amazing makers, innovators, and artists who influence me to continually strive to be the best version of myself. Right now, I’m drawn to the work of three incredibly creative and intelligent women who are doing what I think is really groundbreaking work. Material innovator, Alice Potts, is currently experimenting with bio-based materials and creating some of the most beautiful work I’ve ever seen. Diana Scherer, a visual artist, developed a plant root-weaving technique that yields truly unbelievable works of living art. And Susanna Bauer is a fiber artist combining intricate crochet techniques with dried leaves to create highly detailed and delicate artworks.

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?

I once read a scribbling on a piece of paper that I now share with all my students and remind myself of quite often: “What we know is only valuable when it rubs up against what other people know.” I’m an introverted Scorpio, so it’s not natural or easy for me to collaborate or share my work with others. But when I started teaching sustainable and responsible design practices at Drexel University a few years ago, I quickly realized that each one of us only has part of any narrative within ourselves and we need each other to tell the full story. I’m only an insightful and influential educator when I share the mic with other insightful and influential people. The same goes for the creative process - the more we put out into the world, the more the world can put into our work.

Aside from teaching, I’m also collaborating with a good friend on a community-based initiative that will center people and planet. I’ve been afforded many privileges in my life and it’s important that I acknowledge the disparities I’ve benefited from and work to eliminate the injustices in our society. I have a dream of creating spaces for youths in underserved communities throughout the Philadelphia region to learn sewing skills, experiment with creating bio-based materials, and find their own creative voices. I’ve put it out into the world now with this interview, so I have to make it happen!

In a time that seems to be marked by uncertainty, collective anxiety, and increasing social unrest, why do you think the perspectives and contributions of artists remain meaningful? Do you feel a natural relationship exists between your work (or the role artists play more broadly) and confronting established systems—of power, cultural institutions, or otherwise?

Absolutely artists play a role in confronting established systems! Whether we think we’re signing up for it or not, anyone and everyone in creative disciplines plays a role in society because our work has the potential to influence viewers from all walks of life in very personal and powerful ways. I was in a faculty meeting the other day with photographer Andrea Modica, who’s work behind the camera and in the classroom is truly inspiring. She talked about how imagery is received and perceived, how depth of field and lighting can influence the mood and interpretation of a photo, and how there can be so many different intended and unintended political and social justice messages inferred from the work we create.

Working with bio-based and biodegradable materials has prompted many questions about the responsibility of designers, makers, and artists in connection with the earth. The materials I work with existed long before they entered my space and I merely capture a moment in their journey on this earth. It is my greatest hope that once these objects have fulfilled their purpose in this current state, that they will be given back to the earth to start anew.

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

In the classroom, I’m often asked when I first became interested in sustainable and responsible practices, and it always makes me laugh. I never “became interested” in sustainability because the way we define that term is based on daily practices and family values that were passed down through my parents and grandparents. When I think about the biggest influences on the work I’m doing today, I have to pay tribute to my paternal grandparents. I was fortunate to know them well in my youth and they never threw away anything - my grandmother kept boxes of every scrap of fabric she ever touched in her basement and my grandfather had mason jars full of all kinds of nails, screws, washers and wires lining the walls of his garage. My grandfather was also an avid gardener - he grafted and cross-bred a variety of trees and had a vegetable garden large enough to feed the whole extended family. Nothing went to waste.

For better or worse I inherited many traits from them, and have a difficult time throwing anything away. They taught me that everything has value, or at least, everything has the potential to have value… all you needed was an imagination and some creativity to give something old a new purpose.

The work I’m currently doing is largely influenced by their values, and I only see that becoming more evident over time. When my grandmother passed away, I was given her costume jewelry. I found myself thinking about how I haven’t really earned this jewelry in any way or know how to properly care for it, and how this idea parallels our relationship with the earth. How can we honor our inheritances - both from people and the planet? And how can we create newness without further cluttering the earth? I’m currently working on a series (which you see a bit of in this collection) that gives my grandmother’s jewelry new life by entwining these manufactured items that would otherwise end up in a landfill with natural materials that will ultimately fill up the land.

To find out more about Elizabeth S. Quinn check out her Instagram.