Yucca Valley Material Lab

Yucca Valley Material Lab is a creative platform comprised of intensive artist residencies, instructional workshops and public event programs.

YVML offers residencies to visual artists, writers, musicians and performers so that they may explore a wide range of material. Residencies last up to three weeks and include lodging, full access to the lab, technical assistance and opportunities for intellectual exchange through public symposiums and lectures, studio visits and workshops. Artists may apply individually or as a collaborative team. Applications are reviewed every January by a revolving panel of peers.

YVML also offers introductory to advanced instructional workshops. These workshops are led by internationally established artists and designers who have taught in venues such as Bild-Werk Frauenau Academy, Pilchuck Glass School, Haystack, Penland, Oregon College of Art and Craft, Pacific Northwest College of Art, Portland State University, Ninety Twenty Studios, Urban Glass and Northlands Creative Glass. Students in the workshops also have an opportunity to work alongside and learn from YVML’s artists in residence.

Interview with Heidi Schwegler

Questions by Kimberly Corday

What does a typical day look like at Yucca Material Lab?
I’ve always been a morning person, but there is something about the desert that has made it even more extreme! I’m usually up by 5:30am, which has allowed me to catch every magical sunrise for the past 2.5 years. I typically start the “YVML workday” by answering emails over coffee, followed by a perimeter walk to water the new trees and plants. I’ll then head to the Quonset (which is our main studio facility) to check on the kilns and start the wax pots (assuming an artist in residence is here exploring lost wax casting in either metal or glass). Once the artist starts moving around, we’ll have a preliminary catch-up meeting to look at their work in progress, and I’ll prepare to launch into any tutorial they may need. This usually takes a few hours, after which I have two options: focus on any maintenance issues that need attention or head to my studio to catch up on the YVML administrative to-do list. At this stage of the program, I am basically a one-person operation, I wear many hats! Instruction, marketing, maintenance, development…. and after two years of this, I can admit I still enjoy every aspect, though I’m also super motivated to someday have a team. Once I’ve caught up on my administrative duties, I’ll switch gears and begin working in my studio. The days usually end on the water tower with beer in hand, to listen to the coyotes and have a bird’s eye view of the sunset.

What prompted you to put down roots in the Mojave?
I woke up one morning in Portland, OR and suddenly realized I had been living there almost 20 years. It was kind of shocking to realize, but I had never felt stagnant. I had a productive studio practice with plenty of opportunities to show the work, and a job that changed enough to keep me challenged. I started teaching at Oregon College of Art and Craft right out of graduate school and over time my position evolved from studio manager, to instructor, to full time professor, to chair of a graduate program (MFA in Applied Craft + Design [AC+D]). Let’s just say I had been in higher ed long enough to see it change from a place of personal growth and provocation to a service industry with exponentially higher tuition fees. It had become something very different than when I first started. Or maybe I had become different. My husband Derek was growing weary of the Pacific Northwest and after having grown up in Yuma, AZ he desperately missed the desert. In 2018 I went to the CAA conference in LA, after which Derek flew down and we went to Joshua Tree for an overnight mini vacation. We drove by a house that a few friends (founders of High Desert Observatory) had just bought. I was so inspired by Yucca Mesa that we drove back to Joshua Tree Salon and wrote down every house on the market. We put in an offer that day! We ended up losing that house by the time we landed in Portland, but our next offer three days later is now our home.  The whole move was incredibly impulsive. I had taken students to AZ West for several years in a row, so I was familiar with the area, but only slightly so. I honestly had no idea what I was getting in to, except that I was more than ready for a complete change of context. And what a change it was. I have never looked back.

Based on your course descriptions and modest lodgings, I can tell there is a commitment to honoring the surrounding landscape. Can you speak a bit about your personal relationship to the American Southwest? How do you practice responsible habitation in a fragile desert ecosystem?
We began honoring our small section of land the minute we moved in by hauling away the trash.  The previous owner was an extreme hoarder. Every dumpster filled felt like a great step towards healing. Since then, I have slowly started to reshape the earth and plant native plants that only need water in their first year. If they don’t make it after that, it’s added to the compost and replaced with another native. After the property was cleared and I began to layout the design, and I was careful to only add structures to those blank areas that had previously been covered in junk. No native tree or plant was removed to make room for the Quonset and the campers. At this point, I think we’ve added about 17 trees (palo verde, mesquite, desert willow) and countless cacti (cholla, prickly pear, ocotillo and barrel). There is not a single plant here that was familiar to me in Portland, so it’s been a steep learning curve. And I’m the first to admit that I’ve barely scratched the surface of understanding. There are many organizations in our community who are committed to educating the public on the desert flora (much of which is so small it’s barely visible) on topics such as how raise a vegetable garden in the hi-desert, the art of permaculture and how to compost in this dry climate. I’ve had time to attend a few, and now that the program is feeling stable, I intend to take many more! 

In terms of my relationship to the American Southwest prior to relocating here, it was really only from afar and as a tourist. I grew up in Kansas City and soon after receiving my BFA I went on a long road trip to the Southwest looking for my utopia. There were many places I fell in love with, but I got sidetracked, ended up in Oregon for graduate school and then was fully immersed in Oregon College of Art and Craft until 2018. In 2016 I had made the trek to Georgia O’Keefe’s Ghost Ranch in New Mexico with a few girlfriends, and I became convinced during our tour (as I’m sure most women do) that the desert was my next destination. Thankfully, I found the right partner to wholeheartedly take on this adventure with me.

Is there a particular art movement or collective that influenced your business model?
My experience as chair of AC+D and my experiences as an artist in residence in many programs are at the foundation of YVML. The mentor-based AC+D Program encourages a cross-disciplinary studio environment in which the workshop is a lab to collaboratively explore design and making processes in order to make original work with an applied purpose. Grounded in hands-on making, entrepreneurial strategies and social and environmental engagement, students work one-on-one with nationally and internationally recognized designers, makers and scholars in a self-directed curriculum that challenges them to bring to life the full strength of their ideas and skills. I passionately believed in that program, so much so it became the model for YVML. The most salient characteristics include its focus on new modes of making through iterative material exploration and the benefits of mentor-based relationships. The YVML residents come from a wide range of creative disciplines (writers, composers, performers, designers, artists) and each is supported individually in their exploration of a material that is new to them, notably glass, metal and ceramic.  Local artists are invited to work one on one with each resident, depending on their interests. The Quonset facility and surrounding compound have been designed to allow for processes free of intended outcomes. I strongly believe that releasing one’s creative practice from preconceived ideas can inspire unimaginable thought and form. Material curiosity, craftsmanship and provocative content have also always been the force behind my personal studio practice and it’s inspiring to be able to offer this to others. 

Since 2010 I have committed to attending residencies for my own studio practice and to build upon my network. Macdowell, (NH) Yaddo (NY), 18th St Arts Center (CA), Anderson Ranch Arts Center (CO), NES (Iceland) and Beijing Artist Platform to name a few. Each distinct though with some crossover, none offered studios equipped with tools, instruction or a material stipend. In 2015, I was awarded a residency through Bullseye Glass Projects (OR). They made it a point to invite artists who had limited experience in glass. The month-long residency came with a material stipend, 24 hour access to the facility and technical instruction. Knowing how golden this was (and how finite!) I worked harder than I did even in grad school. I was there 7 days a week, and only left when I needed to finally sleep. My success rate was about 30%, so it was incredibly humbling. Once I was able to get over my minimal success rate, I began to notice that the failures were actually much more poetic than my original intentions. My experience at Bullseye (along with aspects from the other programs) has fed into the mission of YVML. I wanted to be able to share that experience with others. Not only to be open to failure but to allow a new material to impact how you approach making once you are back in your own studio. I’m also very proud to call Bullseye a partner as they sponsor 4 – 5 YVML artists in residence each year with a generous material stipend.

How do you strike a balance between your private practice and communal project?
To be honest that was one of the most difficult challenges in starting YVML. Since we put an offer on our house without initially seeing it in person, we didn’t fully understand that it was basically a junkyard. The house needed work and the 2 acre property was absolutely covered in “stuff”: shipping containers, car parts, rotting RV’s, broken glass, metal sheeting, batteries, doll parts, buckets of oil, pieces of tarp – I would walk around the property each morning with my coffee and feel vertigo. It took 7 industrial dumpsters just to see the ground. After that I still had to hire a backhoe to scoop the rest of the trash, dig a pit and bury it. It wasn’t until then that I could start the process of building the Quonset, repairing and then re-designing the landscape, customizing the trailers and building furniture. Oh, let’s not forget writing the business plan! My building permit was approved 5 months after moving in, and my first artist arrived two months later. It was a whirlwind of back breaking labor, and I admit I’m still trying to catch up to myself and the speedy development of the program.

At the beginning of 2020 the commercial gallery representing me in Portland, OR closed, resulting in all of my work being returned. Instead of putting it into storage I began casting concrete pads around the compound to place some of the larger work. Needless to say, my studio had gone dormant. It was incredibly hard on me until one of the artists pointed out that the property had become my sculpture practice and that the residency program could be seen as a creative social practice. I used to embrace blending a pedagogical career with my studio practice, which I transferred to YVML and my studio. As we enter into 2021 (and through much trial and error with the program) I have finally figured out how to balance, nurture and blend all of the aspects that now make up my practice. 

Artist compounds are fertile ground for cultural and intellectual discourse. What kind of conversations do you hope to facilitate art YVML?
I believe that one of the most important aspects to any artist residency is the conversation, whether formally for a public event, semi-informally during a studio visit or casually during happy hour. Therefore, the conversation is something I intentionally foster at YVML. When an artist is exploring a material for the first time it is not uncommon for them to want to critically evaluate the expected and unexpected, and how this new material may impact their practice when they return home. Even if they don’t continue exploring the techniques learned at YVML, I believe that a novel experience like this can allow us to revisit what we are already think we know with fresh insight. I once had a graduate student in AC+D who kept making what he already knew: geometric furniture. I challenged him to spend the next week making miniature models out of cooked pasta, a material that refuses sharp corners. He of course never made furniture out of spaghetti, but it inspired him to explore curves with a vacuum former once he returned to wood. His work completely changed.

Each artist also has an opportunity to engage the public at some point during their residency, whether a studio visit with art students from our local community college, an open house or public performance. Pre-pandemic I would organize an open house near the end of each residency so that the artist would have an opportunity to share their sketches, works in progress and finished pieces. And with only one or two artists here at a time, there is no lack of solitude, which makes the open events an even more rewarding moment of communal celebration. They are also very well attended, which for me is a sign of how supportive and excited this community is for a creative organization of this sort. 

An artist community is an inherently romantic concept. What is the key to maintaining a sense of utopianism within the confines of a business?
I learned fairly quickly on that the romance of the artist residency should be for the artist, not so much for the organization providing the opportunity. It is my goal to make sure the veil of that romance stays intact throughout their stay! That said, I wake up every morning super excited to see the aftermath of what may have occurred in the studio the night before. I also sometimes wonder if I glean more from their experimentations than they do. One’s ignorance of a material can lead to processes that traditionally may have been considered the ‘wrong’ way, though in the end can result in something magical. It’s refreshing and often inspiring to see what comes from of uninhibited exploration. A residency here is not just about what happens in the studio. You are in the Mojave desert, surrounded by flora and fauna, you fully experience the Santa Ana winds, you become familiar with each cotton tail, jackrabbit, quail and roadrunner that live in close proximity, the 10’ garage door is always open allowing for a full view of the sunset and Joshua trees, creosote and cholla…..you soak in a place that is like no other, and this experience and landscape can be psychically transformative. Basically I don’t have to do much to maintain the utopia that naturally exists here.

What advice would you give a fellow creative interested in starting an artist-run space?
Call me. I’ll give you the good, the bad and the ugly of the past few years. But seriously, don’t underestimate the value of those particular past experiences that may have led you to wanting to start a space in the first place. My love for (and personal experiences with) material exploration, art/craft education and artist residencies have come together to make a program that I believe is somewhat distinct. And this is primarily because it comes from a very sincere place. Reach out to like-minded organizations to ask questions, I find that most are more than willing to share! It takes an unfathomable amount of work to start a program like this, and so it can be incredibly rewarding when offered a chance to pass it along. Also, location can be critical. The brutal beauty of this desert, the idiosyncratic nature of our local community and our proximity to LA truly set the tone.

The Mojave Desert is known for its unplugged, old-world lifestyle. What is your outlook on digital engagement? As a business owner, what does your life/tech balance look like?
A layover from my experience in academia is the importance of assessment. I believe that one of the ways in which YVML can grow is through critical feedback from the artists who spend time here. Most admit in the exit survey that they are hard pressed to find recommendations for improvement except for one thing: better Wifi. All of the campers and the Quonset are metal buildings and since we are on 2 acres, everything is situated relatively far from the router. Initially I tried to get them to embrace the unplugged experience, this program is dedicated to hands on exploration of a new material -- with wild abandon! But in the end they just found not having solid internet access was frustrating. Also, because of the pandemic we have developed a series of Zoom-based workshops, and in order to do this in the Quonset, not having Wifi in the metal structure was no longer an option. This turned out to be a surprisingly easy fix, as I’ve invested in a string of boosters that allow for every inch of these 2 acres to have Wifi accessibility. Though I resisted in the beginning, I now fully support the reality that digital engagement is necessary. And as a side note, the virtual workshops have proven to be incredibly successful with each one selling out and our student population expanding globally. I am now in the process of developing hybrid-style workshops that can be taught in-person and at the same time virtually. A good portion of my artists in residence in 2020 were also teachers and having internet access allows them to continue their classes throughout their residency.

With the influx of site-specific installations and destination events, are you concerned about the possibility of the desert losing its distinct character?
The number of people purchasing property in the hi-desert over the past year has been mind boggling. Empty properties surrounding us with sun bleached barely standing For Sale signs have all been sold. And there are many heated discussions between locals on the saturation of short terms rentals, the death of the long term rental and the massive influx of pot grow houses that are demolishing all of the ‘ghost’ cabins peppering the surrounding the region. It has been strange to be a witness to such sudden change, and for me the biggest tragedy is the destruction of the old homesteader cabins. Once they’re gone, there’s no going back to that. Airbnb home-owners are doing very well here at the moment, so there is a feeding frenzy in the real estate market. That said, I am personally not interested in joining the hospitality business, as YVML’s sole purpose is to provide a creative educational platform that our community and invited artists can enjoy and learn from. Much of this sudden growth is probably due to an excellent marketing campaign put together by Joshua Tree National Park and pandemic escapism. The region now feels to be primarily made up of transient tourists. That said, the desert seems to me to be vast and strong, so it is my hope that it will take more than this boom to permanently alter its character.  Hopefully this is not naïve.

Do you find yourself forging deeper connections with artists as the director of a community-based project? How have you upheld creative relationships during the pandemic?
Since YVML is on our private property, there is an intimacy that is formed between artist and director that is not like any other residency program I have attended. One of the first artists in residence admitted to me that it’s such an interesting residency because it’s a residency .....with Heidi! There is an aspect to this that is fantastic and somewhat funny, but it also inspired me to try to have two artists overlapping at a time. I believe a residency should not just be about personal growth in a vacuum but through critique, provocation and discourse. This way we can have the best of both worlds. It’s still very individualized and solitary but having just one more person makes for an exponentially richer experience. And we all say our goodbyes knowing it isn’t the end, true connections are formed here that continue on. Past artists in residence are welcome to return anytime to use the studio, and one is always invited to join the jury selection committee each year to help us bring on the next cohort.

What’s next for you?
My list is long! But in a nutshell, I am currently designing creative retreat options, a variety of hybrid style workshops and I’m actively seeking financial support so that the residency program is ultimately fully funded. For the creative retreats, we will be able to host up to 8 people at a time, they will stay in the campers and receive an introductory workshop of their choice, whether it’s glass fusing, silver casting or ceramic slab and pinch pot. I am also in conversation with a few college based art departments to host graduate level seminar retreats. We have many requests for tours from traveling academic groups, most recent being Cranbrook Academy of Art, Pacific Northwest College of Art and the National Academy of Art in Oslo. I see huge potential in increasing the length of their stay so that it can be organized into a 3 – 5 day seminar. There are 4 campers on the property now and plenty of room for outdoor camping. A longer visit could incorporate conversations on selected readings, critiques on studio work, visits to local artist’s studios and regional field trips (such as: Noah Purifoy outdoor museum, AZ West, Salvation Mountain, and Bombay Beach, Salton Sea). 

And if that weren’t enough, during the pandemic I worked with a friend to repair the original water tower on the property. The base is now Lazy Eye Gallery, a 64 square foot micro gallery that will help me bring more art to this amazing desert. It’s time to start scheduling programming for 2022!

To find out more about Yucca Valley Material Lab check them out on Instagram or on their website.