Island Time: Interviews

The Interviews

Island Time

Galveston Artist Residency— The First Four Years

Contemporary Arts Museum Houston

The Interviews2–3

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Max Fields CAMH Communication Associate

The following text expands upon

the dialogues explored in the

exhibition Island Time: Galveston

Artist Residency, The First Four

Years and connects select works

featured in the exhibition to the

artists who made them through a

series of individual interviews.

The artists were all asked to respond to questions about their experience at the Galveston Artist Residency (GAR) and to consider the artistic outcomes that develop out of working in a new context, in this case, away from home and on an island. This text also features two introduction interviews: the first with Eric Schnell, Co-Founder and Director of the Galveston Artist Residency, and the other with Clint Willour, Curator of the Galveston Arts Center, an institution with a long history of promoting art and culture in Galveston, Houston, and beyond.

Island Time: Galveston Artist Residency, The First Four Years is a group exhibition that considers the first four years of the resi-dency program in Galveston, Texas, a small island community located 45 miles south of Houston. The Galveston Artist Residency is an extended -term artist residency that offers artists a unique and supportive environ-ment in which to think, create, and engage with fellow residents and their locale. Each of these artists was given time to experi-ence Galveston in her or his own unique way, and the work in this show is a reflec-tion on that time. In this way, Island Time also becomes an exhibition about Galveston as seen through the eyes of participating artists—the town’s idiosyncratic pacing, climate, communities, vibe, and relation-ship to Houston. The exhibition is on view at the Contemporary Arts Museum Houston November 21, 2015–February 14, 2015.

We would like to thank Eric Schnell, Clint Willour, and each of the artists for his/her thoughtful responses to our inquiries.

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nellEric Schnell

Director, Galveston Artist Residency

Max Fields: Could you tell me about the cir-cumstances that became the motivation for founding the Galveston Artist Residency? When did the idea first come about, and what exactly informed your decision to plan the construction of an artist residency in Galveston?

Eric Schnell: It was during a series of long hikes in the Davis Mountains in the Spring/Summer of 2009 with Bert Geary. For some reason spending time in a land-scape that was so completely different from Galveston’s made us very certain that we wanted to build a place like this and that it had to be in Galveston. We were both in total agreement that something that allows time for creation is what was needed. We talked about what it should look like, what the vibe of the place should be; it seemed like an intricate daydream at the time.

It’s important, however, to have

the option of slowing down. For

many people, not just artists,

this is terrifying. The world

seems to be becoming more

spastic by the moment. I would

like GAR to be fighting against

this tendency.

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ll MF: I’m interested to learn about the archi-tecture of GAR. The space, designed by Rob Whalley, is multi-functional complete with a garden, outside patio and stage, white cube gallery, offices, and spacious studios, along with many other areas that can be activated in various ways by the artists. What was the concept for this design?

ES: I need to say something about Rob—he is one of the most expansive thinkers and multi-talented people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I am really grateful that he threw himself into this project and spent so much time in Galveston. He was living in LA at the time, so it meant time away from family. I think he is really good at applying an intuitive poetic touch; he knows when to change things and when to leave them alone. If you look at GAR from above, the front courtyard exactly matches the size and shape of the studio building. The gallery cube exactly matches the dimensions of the back garden space. This symmetrical checkerboard allows for good parties and energy flow in general.

MF: The residency was co-founded by you and biologist Bert Geary. How did he become involved with the Galveston Artist Residency?

ES: Bert was involved from the very begin-ning. In the early days of GAR, he did a lot of the heavy lifting and deserves more credit for all the work and sacrifices he has made to make this place happen. He is a quiet visionary, a great critical thinker, and a great friend.

MF: What is the selection process for the res-idency? Originally it was “by invitation only,” but I understand that it now accepts outside submissions to apply, correct?

ES: For years 3–5 of the residency program

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we have used an open call application. This means any artist, anywhere in the world, can apply. We have a selection panel of art professionals review the applications with us. We like for the panel to include at least one person from outside the region. For the first two years we used a nomi-nation process. We would ask up to 5 art professionals (artists, curators, writers, professors) to nominate up to 5 artists each. Then we would have a selection panel choose the final three artists, plus three alternates from this pool. This pro-cess was not nearly as exhausting as the open call, but I knew that when things set-tled a bit, the inclusiveness of the open call would probably win out. The only artist that I would say was “invitation only” was Colin Hunt. He came to Galveston with his wife Heather in June 2011. He was GAR’s first artist in residence. Though the stu-dios were not finished yet, he lived in one apartment and used the other for a studio. I wanted to learn about his experience in Galveston. I wondered what Colin would think of this city since he had never been to Texas and had spent much of his life in New York. Could he be productive here? I knew he would be brutally honest about his experience. He started a new series of paintings while at GAR that fueled many years of work, and he and Heather really developed an affection for Galveston, even though they were here during the hot-test June on record. Heather told me a few things we needed to improve, and it started the place out in the right way.

MF: In your essay in the exhibition catalogue, you mention that the mission of the residency was to afford the artist time to slow down, be self-reflexive, and to create work without the

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hustle of a big city providing outside stress. Can you tell me how this quiet works for the artists at the residency, and why you think this time is important?

ES: It’s different for every artist. Obviously, you shouldn’t come spend a year in Galveston if your motivations are art world networking, but it’s not like Houston is far away. This place is not monastic and not that quiet. It’s important, however, to have the option of slowing down. For many people, not just artists, this is terrifying. The world seems to be becoming more spastic by the moment. I would like GAR to be fighting against this tendency.

MF: Can you discuss the exhibitions at the GAR? I’m interested to hear about both resi-dent exhibitions and the curated exhibitions that fill the gallery in the time between those final presentations by the GAR artists.

ES: The GAR Gallery functions as the pub-lic face of the project. I love it when we put together a show that the locals get into, and we learn something new along the way. We didn’t know that the gal-lery would become such an integral part of the project. But some of the collabo-rative pieces that we have staged in the gallery space, like The Ghost of Robert Rauschenberg (Da Camera and Autumn Knight), The Driftwood Festival and Best of the Beach (Bill Davenport, Alexandra Irvin and the Galveston Parks Dept.), The Fourth Pyramid (Jesse Bransford), Plant People (Natasha Bowdoin), Mapping Galveston (Kristopher Benson of NOAA), and New New Berlin (Jade Townsend and William Powhida), have been incredibly fun and have felt right.

MF: Along with the Galveston Arts Center, GAR creates a place of permanence for artistic

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culture in Galveston. Can you tell me about how the organization is able to be sustainable in a city where there isn’t necessarily an arts -focused donor base to support such a facility?

ES: We wanted to find another path other than the traditional non-profit model. We have an amazing relationship with the Wilson Wherewithall Foundation that I hope will allow us to stick around for a while. We will probably have to come up with some creative ways to keep going in the future, but for now, we are functioning, and it feels pretty healthy.

MF: What is the significance of having an artist residency such as GAR for Galveston?

ES: It brings another voice to a small island. It adds diversity.

MF: After four years, what patterns, if any, do you see forming of how artists respond to this focused, time away?

ES: I can’t really see any overarching pat-terns; everyone is so different. Although, many residents have expressed to me that it was only after leaving the program and getting back into their everyday lives that the benefits of time to their creative prac-tice really started to happen.

MF: What’s in store for the future of the Galveston Artist Residency Program?

ES: Since GAR’s co-founder has been spending so much time in West Texas with his work, we have been working on ways to connect Galveston to far west Texas. I hope that over the next few years, we can make this happen in an interesting way.

MF: What does “Island Time” mean to you?I take it very literally: a gift of time on an island.

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I love it when we put together a

show that the locals get into, and

we learn something new along

the way. We didn’t know that the

gallery would become such an

integral part of the project.

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Clint Willour has championed

artists living and working in

Texas as an art dealer, gallerist,

juror, lecturer, philanthropist,

and museum curator over

the span of more than forty

years. One of his biggest

contributions—and there are

many—lies within his work as

the curator of the Galveston

Arts Center (GAC), a position

he has held for over 25 years.

Upon his coming to Galveston, Willour rein-vigorated the island’s cultural landscape by centering the mission of GAC on building connections between the Galveston Island

Clint Willour

Curator, Galveston Arts Center

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community and regionally based artists. Since 1990, Willour has worked with the modestly -sized staff at GAC to organize 12–24 exhibi-tions a year and to establish numerous public programs that invite the public to learn more about the artists who populate their state. One such notable program is Galveston’s ArtWalks, which take place every 6–8 weeks and includes the participation of the island’s 20 or so galler-ies and arts institutions in a block party -esque open house event.

Due to Mr. Willour’s advocacy of regional art work, and especially for his contributions to the Island of Galveston as a patron for the arts, we believe that it would be remiss not to include him in this interview series that expands upon the dialogues that are explored in the group exhibition Island Time: Galveston Artist Residency—The First Four Years. It’s imaginable that without Willour’s work help-ing to create a dynamic hub for art and culture in Galveston, we might not have the Galveston Artist Residency today. It is also appropriate to say then, that the artists who visit Galveston Artist Residency share thoughts with Willour (though his go back some 25 years ago in 1990). Specifically, how do I navigate this place, so far away from the hustle and bus-tle of the massive art centers (New York, Los Angeles, etc.), and what can I do to make Galveston the center of my creative force?

We took this opportunity to ask Mr. Willour about his experience working at the Galveston Arts Center, to learn more about his perspec-tive on the arts in Galveston, Houston, and the broader region, and to ask him about Galveston’s arts community moving toward a bright future.

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MF: I’d like to start in 1990 when you took the position at Galveston Arts Center as curator. Can you describe the cultural landscape of Galveston when you first went to work there? What attracted you to work in Galveston?

Clint Willour: When I came to work at the Galveston Arts Center (GAC) in 1990, Galveston had a small but lively art scene. There were a handful of galleries, an active art league, a good art program at Ball High School, and small but excellent art faculty at Galveston College and at College of the Mainland across the causeway. Most impor-tantly, there was an active community of artists on the island. What attracted me to the GAC was the opportunity to establish a bigger and more focused exhibition pro-gram. I was able to do this fairly quickly. I added an additional gallery upstairs and new track lighting, and began to focus on exhibiting artists living and working in the region or projects produced in the region. I also wanted to be able to travel exhibi-tions to other venues in the region and to produce accompanying catalogues.

MF: One of the first things you changed upon arriving at GAC was shifting the center of focus to regionally based artists. What was your goal in establishing this mission? How has that mis-sion transformed over the years?

CW: The goal in establishing this program was two-fold: to save money on transpor-tation costs and to give broader exposure to emerging, mid-career, and established artists. Because Galveston is a tourist des-tination and is only an hour’s drive from Houston, the ability to present work to a broad and brand new audience was a given. Certainly the location at 22nd and Strand in the heart of the Historic District was an added bonus.

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MF: Were there artists, museum directors, or curators who were important for you in devel-oping an arts center in Galveston? If so, how?

CW: The artists living in Galveston (like Joe Glasco) were a great support system for me. Peter Marzio, the late director of the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, was very supportive of me. He was great mentor and was always willing to lend important works to exhibitions at the GAC. I had the opportunity to work early on with Walter Hopps at the Menil Collection on an exhi-bition of 26 artists from their collection with ties to Texas in celebration of the cen-tennial of the University of Texas Medical Branch in Galveston.

MF: What do you remember most about the first exhibition that you produced at the Galveston Arts Center? How was it received by the public?

CW: The first exhibition I curated in Galveston was titled Ordinary as Extraordinary/Object as Subject. It included works by 8 artists (including Joe Havel, Steve Brudniak, Lance Letscher and Randy Twaddle) in a variety of media. I believe it was very well received by the viewing audience.

MF: What do you find of interest in contem-porary art in Texas today? How has that transformed over the years as you worked closely with artists and institutions around the state as a curator at an institution with regional focus?

CW: Having dealt with Texas art and Texas artists for over 40 years in my career, I con-tinue to find the art being produced in this state to be as outstanding, varied, creative, intelligent and challenging as any art being produced anywhere else. I have exhibited thousands of artists and continue to find and be amazed by new art and new artists.

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MF: I understand GAC was responsible for founding the Galveston ArtWalks. What kind of audience are you trying to reach?

CW: The GAC founded the Galveston ArtWalk to attract a wide variety of new viewers to the Cultural Arts District seven Saturday evenings a year. It continues to grow and to attract an average of 1,500 people each ArtWalk.

MF: I’m interested to hear your thoughts on the importance of institutions like the Galveston Arts Center and Galveston Artist Residency. What is the critical impact of cultural institu-tions like these in small towns around the US? How does the presence of artists in Galveston impact the life of its residents?

CW: I think the issue of the critical impact of institutions like the GAC and GAR on smaller towns in the US is hard to assess. It is always hard to quantify the impact of art and artists on any community, just as it is to judge the impact of public art on the public. I just can’t imagine any society without art in its life.

MF: Do you see parallels in the missions (or impact) of the Galveston Arts Center and Galveston Artist Residency?

CW: I think the impact and/or parallels between the GAC and GAR are that we continually reinforce each other. We each bring new audiences to each other. Our proximity to each other allows our audi-ences to move easily between us. We share a common interest in presenting high quality exhibitions and programs.

MF: What do you see as the evolution of Galveston’s cultural landscape? What is in store for the future of Galveston?

CW: I think the cultural landscape of Galveston is constantly evolving. The

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future appears to be brighter all the time. Since Hurricane Ike, the tourist influx has increased dramatically. The island is now a better place to live, work, and to visit.

MF: The exhibition at CAMH is titled “Island Time: Galveston Artist Residency—The First Four Years.” What does the term “Island Time” mean to you?

CW: When I first came to Galveston driving over the causeway, I felt like I was driv-ing into the seventies. Someone once told me they thought of Galveston now as they felt about Austin in the eighties. There is a slower pace, a much more casual style, a charm of its own. There is a friendliness and a true sense of community. It functions more like a small town than a larger city, but with many of the cultural attractions of a much bigger city. And then there is the water and the light.

I think the cultural landscape of

Galveston is constantly evolving.

The future appears to be brighter

all the time…The island is now a

better place to live, work, and

to visit.

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Nick Barbee

MF: Could you tell us a bit about yourself; where are you from originally, where are you based now, and how did you get there?

Nick Barbee: I moved to Galveston four years ago when my wife began working for GAR, and we stayed. I grew up outside D.C. and lived in New York City and Philadelphia before coming to Texas. I lived in Houston for my first two years before ultimately moving to Galveston. With each move I feel like I’m going further off the map.

MF: What informs the conceptual nature of your work, and how do you delegate that information into your studio process?

NB: My work takes different forms depend-ing on what project I’m working on. I make paintings, sculptures, drawings, books, slide lectures, and architectural models. I collapse historical narratives and personal experience; it is a process of abstraction.

The sky is dramatic; the clouds

roll off the Gulf like Kufic calli

graphy, and the sunsets are

meringue. The water is tepid

and turbid, and the island is a

mosquitoinfested sandbar.

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In the studio I make objects and images that reflect that process and represent my source material.

MF: What attracted you to attend the Galveston Artist Residency Program?

NB: I was there the first year. It was excit-ing to be one of the first residents, and it’s been a pleasure to see how the program has grown and changed since then.

MF: Can you tell me if the geography of Galveston Island influenced your work?

NB: The natural environment of Galveston is like nothing I had experienced before. It is made up of flat and humid saltwater marshes full of amazing birds. Galveston is on the same longitudinal line as Giza, Egypt, and I still can’t wrap my head around that. The sky is dramatic; the clouds roll off the Gulf like Kufic calligra-phy, and the sunsets are meringue. The water is tepid and turbid, and the island is a mosquito-infested sandbar. Galveston is the edge. The architecture is either footed in the past or anticipating a future storm. This whole place is a negotiation between the economic and ecological environ-ments, between past resiliency and future catastrophe. My work is informed by these negotiations, but I’m not interested in illustrating them or resolving them.

MF: I’m interested to learn about how working in a social and cultural environment such as that of Galveston influences your approach to making?

NB: Galveston does not pride itself on effi-ciency, and I can relate to that.

MF: While Galveston has an emerging arts culture and series of art spaces dedicated to contemporary art works, it isn’t an arts destin-ation, at least in the traditional gallery/museum

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sense of the term. How does that affect you?NB: The sort of exhibition structure to which you’re referring facilitates discourse and investigation. I’ve found both out-side of that art world structure. There is an anonymity here that I find liberating. Also Galveston is really close to Houston.

MF: Can you describe your relationship to Houston during your stay at GAR?

NB: I spent the two years prior in Houston, and I was still teaching a few classes in Houston while at GAR. I went back often, but I made it a point to never spend the night. I logged a lot of miles on the Gulf Freeway. My work in Island Time is a version of something I made at GAR. Driving in and out on Harborside, I passed Galveston’s sulfur pit, and a little down the road, I saw workers constructing the new railroad bridge that now spans West Bay. The new bridge doubled the span of the passageway from 105 feet to 300 feet. They built it on land and sent it over on a barge. For a brief span of time, on Valentine’s Day 2012, both the old bridge and the new bridge were in place. They took out the old bridge and barged it back to the island. It had been sold to a county in California. The railway bridge became a landmark for me driving in and out of Galveston; it was the outer limit of the island. Along with the smell of the sulfur pit, it welcomed me home and sent me on my way.

MF: Could you discuss the project you worked on while at the Galveston Arts Residency?

NB: I didn’t work on one project, instead I finished two bodies of work I started before the residency. I started a new body of work that dealt with space and geo metry and the philosophy of science through very goopy and inexact objects.

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MF: Did you work collaboratively with the other artists in residence while at GAR?

NB: No. I think we were all entrenched in our studios, but there were some interest-ing similarities in what we were doing. Kelly and I had spent the previous two years together in the Core program, and we knew each other’s work very well. Nsenga was working with spiritual geo metry, and there was some overlap between our studios.

MF: How did your work come together in the final exhibition at the end of your term?

NB: We had the distinction of having the final exhibition at GAR and the Galveston Arts Center. That gave me the opportu-nity to show two different bodies of work. Along with the work I already mentioned, I showed a series of portraits that my wife and I made of each other. I like them a lot.

MF: Can you describe the works you included in the exhibition Island Time at the Contemporary Arts Museum, and tell me how the work differs from or is similar to the work you made while at the residency?

NB: I am showing a version of the last piece I made at GAR for the Mapping Galveston show. It is a sculpture of the old train bridge and the new train bridge. At GAR it was specific to the island, and I think it will maintain that specificity in the context of the show at CAMH. I don’t know how the piece would work without Galveston as a frame.

MF: What does the statement “Island Time” mean to you?

NB: Where the Elite Meet in Bare Feet.

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Autumn Knight: I am from and based in Houston, TX.


AK: My work is influenced by being Black, being female, living in a warm climate most of the year, and being born in the early ’80s; these loose concepts of identity, nature, and time inform the work. The process is being afraid to do a thing and doing it anyway.


AK: I was able to visit the artists who were in the residency round before mine. They had a very positive experience at the resi-dency and that inspired me to apply.


AK: I was very moved by the emotionality of the water, and it weighed on me heav-ily. I’m not necessarily a water person, and

Autumn Knight

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I don’t live near water, so it was exciting to invite that element into my life and my artistic process.

MF: Did you come to the program with a project in mind?

AK: I did not come to Galveston with a proj-ect in mind. My work was influenced by Galveston’s history and landscape.


AK: Galveston has a deserted beach town vibe. At times this can be extremely tran-quil, at other times isolating. My approach was to find what exciting mysteries lie underneath the sleepiness, the seaweed, the quiet.

MF: While Galveston has an emerging arts culture and series of art spaces dedicated to contemporary art works, it isn’t an arts des-tination, at least in the traditional gallery/museum sense of the term. How does that affect you?

AK: The residency’s position in the art scene allowed me to confidently explore more experimental ideas.


AK: I was constantly back and forth to Houston, trying to stay visible and active in both art scenes. I had several studio visits from Houston visitors, and I’m extremely grateful to those artists, curators, and art directors who made the trip to Galveston to view my work.


AK: Eric, Sallie, and I created the Ghost of

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Robert Rauschenberg, an installation and performance made in collaboration with musicians/composers from Da Camera. An installation of beach material (sand and driftwood) filled the room. I performed and choreographed a movement piece inspired by Rauschenberg’s work/life. Sue and Wanda are two native Galvestonians. Together we created WALL, a performance reimagining the physical space of Wailing Wall as a psychological/emotional space.


AK: No. But I wanted to.


AK: The work came together out of play-fulness, reflection, and the residue of that directionless contemplation. The pieces were stemmed from ideas I previously had thrown away: painting with spirulina, wire paintings, minimalist wood sculpture, plant sound installation. I suppose it might have been about residue; what’s left over at the end of a period of time, what is left when you have to clear out your space and move forward?


AK: The work in the exhibition is documen-tation of WALL and new performances reinterpreting that material.


AK: There’s lots of TIME on the island.

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My approach was to find what

exciting mysteries lie underneath

the sleepiness, the seaweed,

the quiet.

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Nsenga Knight: I am originally from Brooklyn, NY, and I am currently based in Durham, NC. I got married to a Durhamite while at the GAR residency, so once I finished the program, this was my next destination.


NK: My current artistic practice has two major components: studio work and public practice, or what some call social practice. My formal trainings are in dance, film-making, printmaking, performance, and photography. The pre-production aspect of filmmaking informs my practice a great deal. I am always working on a project and orchestrating moving parts. Even when I am working on a drawing, it’s part of a larger conceptual body of work; maybe it’s the close up of an idea. The drawing Other Stars Don’t Behave So is a good example of this close up. The drawing uses the idea of foreground and background image, but everything is in focus. I was working with the drawing in the foreground of Other Stars Don’t Behave So for over a year by transforming different aspects of the work into other shapes in different drawings,

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but sometimes keeping the relationships of its different parts. I feed off of traditions of abstraction and geometrical art found in Islamic art, minimalism, Suprematism, and the conceptual arts movement. I’m invested in developing a conversation about these different modes and art mak-ing strategies, which are all a part of my art making lineage. I’m invested in a conversa-tion between the forms that I cultivate out of the aforementioned artistic modes and spirituality, history, and social justice. I’m also interested in creating image-making strategies that push forth some greater understanding and cause the viewer to become invested in the act of looking and knowledge seeking. I like to keep a bal-anced relationship between reality and abstraction.


NK: At the time, GAR was soliciting art-ists who had previously participated in the MFAH’s Core Residency Program. At first I thought the application didn’t seem appropriate for me, but something nudged me to give Eric a call and see if there was a chance that I could apply. The program looked amazing! We had a great conversation, and he asked that I send him a few images of my work even though they would likely not be able to consider me until the following year. I sent in my work, we kept talking, and then one day he called and invited me to participate in the residency. It was pretty amazing and unorthodox. Eric seemed like such a genuine person in our conversations, and I prayed a lot about the opportunity. It was a big leap of faith for me to travel to Galveston, a place I had never been to

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before, and participate in a program that had never been done before. I was part of a group of pioneers with Kelly [Sears] and Nick [Barbee]. What attracted me most to the residency was that they were being really supportive of the artists they were inviting to the residency. It felt like they really wanted us to excel. It was so gen-erous. GAR was exactly what I needed to start my career as an independent full-time artist.


NK: The geography of Galveston had an influence on my work, process, and sub-ject matter. First of all, it was really quiet, which I love. The Texas sky is HUGE which I hadn’t seen in that way before; it is grand and the stars are spectacular. The place is urban but under-populated. I didn’t own a car, so I spent a lot of time between my studio and the surrounding neighborhood. I became really curious about Galveston’s geography while I was there. This curiosity was provoked by a book I was reading on the Islamic pilgrimage where the author talks about one of the rituals in relation to the stars and planets. The author relates individuals to the planets as if we are plan-ets orbiting around a greater planet in one of the Hajj rituals, Tawaf. This was my foundational inquiry throughout my time in Galveston. Actually, when I think about it, all of the works have something to do with the human transformation through rituals in relation to the planets and our place on earth. The questions “What are we to do once we have been transformed spiritually and physically” and “What is our social responsibility?” Spending time in Galveston enjoying the night sky, passing

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by NASA, and being really quiet in my stu-dio, reading, researching, meditating, and experimenting with ideas really allowed me to see things clearly and get into the cosmos. I challenged myself to take the forms within the Galveston (and Marfa) sky and use them as an aesthetic and concep-tual grounding for my inquiries.


NK: I did not come to GAR with a project in mind. I did have some sketches that I had been working on during the year leading up to Galveston. I had been research-ing the pilgrimage to Mecca in relation to social justice and the transformative think-ing of Malcolm X and Ali Shariati. It was the form that took shape at GAR, and the form is what enables the conversation and deeper inquiries in my work.


NK: Galveston was very quiet. I sometimes felt like I was the only person in the studio building. I did enjoy socializing with Eric, Bert, and Kelly, and Nick. I had some really great conversations with all of them. The quiet of Galveston influenced my deep inquiry. I really thrive on silence.


NK: It didn’t matter to me. I went to Houston or New York when I wanted to socialize more or see some other art.

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I went to Galveston to make art, and Galveston became a destination for hun-dreds of other people because we were there making work.


NK: I travelled to Houston every other week or sometimes just once a month. I would go to attend a reading group led by Jamal Cyrus at Project Row Houses. I was a mem-ber of Houston Center for Photography, so I went there to print photos. I’d go to meet up with friends for an event or just to hang out. Galveston and Houston felt close enough for me to be able to go back and forth in one day. I had never driven so much in my life! At first I would actually feel a little dizzy after returning to Galveston from Houston, like I had been on a roller coaster; the highways were intense. I had never driven alone on a highway prior to Galveston. Houston was a big part of my experience at GAR. It helped me feel whole.


NK: Last Rite (2011–2012) melds together forms found in pilgrimage rituals, sacred geometry, minimalism, and classical astronomy; its narrative pivots between Malcolm X’s pilgrimage to Mecca in 1964 (his fulfillment of his last religious duty) and his funeral rites. It explores the trans-formative potential of the Islamic pilgrimage to Mecca or Hajj by analyzing the symbols and formal structures of its rituals. In this work, I meld text from Malcolm X’s Hajj journal with that of the Iranian philosopher and revolutionary Ali Shariati’s memoir Hajj. I connect those texts to the parallel forms found in sacred geometry, stack works by Donald Judd, Sol

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Lewitt’s geometrical wall drawings, and Abū Rayḥān al-Bīrūnī’s 10th century astro-nomical renderings.


NK: No.


NK: I experimented a lot with different processes and materials. I should mention that prior to being at GAR, I didn’t paint or draw and that is what made up the work in the final exhibition. I had six pieces in the final show in total. I did a wall drawing that took me forever to finish. I was installing it right up until the opening. I also created a series of drawings on acetate that were installed on a wall in the gallery via seven different colors of latex paint, and there were four works on paper. My work came together really well. It was the first time in a long time that I used color. And the con-cept of the pilgrimage, the cosmos, and social transformation were touched on in the works. I feel like it was an introduction chapter to a lot of the work that I am working on now.


NK: Periodic Table, A Guide to the Last Rite, Orientation, and Other Stars Don’t Behave So were artworks I worked on at GAR, and Make Safe Make Space was cre-ated after my residency between 2014–15. Periodic Table is a photo series I showed at GAR when the gallery first opened. It is an ongoing project, and I was still developing

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photos for this series while at GAR, hence those trips to HCP. These 48 photographs installed in grids are aesthetically reminis-cent of Suprematist paintings, yet operate in a fashion similar to experimental film stills. The work itself is created through the re-photographing of a series of per-formative interventions made directly on photographs. Conceptually, Periodic Table (aka Drowning) explores the cam-era’s abilities to create and shift meanings while also producing abstracted images from within its own insular world of self- generated photographs that serve as archival proof of past gestures.

A Guide to the Last Rite was the first work in the Last Rite project that I made during my time in Galveston. It’s a guide on how to perform the Islamic burial ritual inspired by an actual manual that was cre-ated for those who attended Malcolm X’s funeral. It includes instructions, a mate-rials list, diagrams, and appropriated archive photos from Malcolm X’s funeral. Orientation is my formal inquiry into these three shapes—the circle, square, and pen-tagon. It is a more straightforward look at sacred geometry and the concept of the squaring of the circle in relation to the Hajj pilgrimage. I also sought to explore and combine shapes in this wall draw-ing, which Sol Lewitt had not. Other Stars Don’t Behave So is a drawing I began at GAR and finished a year later. This drawing is an articulation of ideas I was explor-ing in regards to cosmology, nomadism, and abstraction across cultures. I was interested in looking at how we organize information and develop greater under-standings of ourselves in relation to other people and the universe. Make Safe Make Space is a print series I completed earlier

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this year as part of a collaborative social practice project I led at Elsewhere Museum during my Southern Constellations fellow-ship there. I invited over forty members of Greensboro’s Black community to discuss historical and prevailing issues of safety in Safe Place, Leslie Kalman’s fabric fortress installation on a private floor in Elsewhere Museum. These conversations explored connections between physical safety and psychological well-being and resulted in the restructuring of Safe Place fabric for-tress through the addition of a window, new flooring, and restructured walls. This project was conceived in the wake of the Michael Brown police killing in Ferguson and inspired by the Civil Rights era sit-in movement, which began in Greensboro, North Carolina on the same street in which the museum is currently situated. As an extension of this work, I created a series of prints that contain text abstracted from documented conversations with Make Safe Make Space project collaborators. The texts weave together language used to guide the physical transformations of the Safe Place installation and to instigate social change. I haven’t formulated any feelings about showing my work at CAMH as opposed to GAR. They seem like very different spaces, GAR probably being the more raw of the two. I’m excited to see so much of the work that has been produced by GAR residents.


NK: It means time away in seclusion to think and develop. It is a different way of expe-riencing time. There is an idea that on an island you can retreat and slow down. Or, simply, it is time on the island.

32Joe Joe Orangias


Joe Joe Orangias: I grew up in Louisville, Kentucky and trained at the Savannah College of Art and Design, the School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, and Tufts University. Since graduating, I’ve been on residencies in the US and Aotearoa (New Zealand), Australia, Germany, Japan and Serbia. One highlight has been my 2014–2015 SMFA Traveling Fellowship to study Indigenous art in Australasia. More recently, I returned to the US to pursue fur-ther study in art history in New York.


JJO: My overarching goal is to connect people to diverse social and physical envi-ronments by making projects that are inclusive and accessible to diverse audi-ences. My studio process begins with interest in a social justice or environmen-tal sustainability issue that is specific to a site. I research the history of the issue, find relevant materials, and collaborate with communities to develop responses, generally in the form of sculpture, crit-ical writing, drawing, mobile architecture,

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33performance, or video.


JJO: What attracted me to GAR was the mission to promote and encourage knowl-edge and appreciation of visual art. The program offers a rare opportunity to inde-pendently experiment with new methods of art making. I was unable to visit before attending, because I was an ASA Fellow at the Hochschule für bildende Künste in Germany then. When I arrived, I instantly felt at home at this intimate and support-ive residency. Everything from our fishing excursions, the sunlit studio and garden with its exotic birds, and our trip to Marfa continually inspired me.

MF: Can you tell me if the geography of Galveston Island influenced your work

JJO: It absolutely did! My interest in landmarks and monuments took me around Auia, the Indigenous Karankawa name of Galveston Island. I found a Karankawa campsite plaque, numerous hurricane flood line markers, the Wall of Remembrance for victims of the HIV/AIDS epidemics, and the Menard Park Bandshell, among others. These sites inspired me to research how communities are historically connected to the island. Ultimately, the island’s confinement allowed me to learn about/with its many vibrant communities and develop projects about their visibility within Auia’s geography.


JJO: I went into the program with the defined goal to explore the reach of my practice. I wanted to further explore site-specificity, collaboration, and the role

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of history. As I mentioned, I believe in the potential and power of making distinct, memorable connections between commu-nities and the land. Therefore, my research on landmarks, monuments, and public happenings informed my work the most.


JJO: Auia is very dynamic socially and environmentally. At times, I was dis-tracted by the tourist entertainment, at other times it became important to tune in and participate. Although the Mardi Gras and Lonestar Biker Rally made Auia feel unfamiliar, these events engaged communities and generated diversity; something the island always seems to do in varying degrees. These events showed me the potential of developing public engagement as a means to social and envi-ronmental change.


JJO: I got to know a very strong arts cul-ture on Auia, which is expanding in many directions and well supported by local initiatives. For me, the numerous artists, galleries, international visitors, and engag-ing public programming make Auia an interesting arts destination. GAR certainly is a gem for contemporary art lovers. I found Auia’s environment highly inspiring and conducive.

MF: Can you describe your relationship to

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Houston during your stay at GAR?JJO: I visited Houston often to meet other artists and curators, and see exhibitions in the city’s excellent museums and galleries. I also showed work in Art Palace’s Summer Salts exhibition. One of my most memo-rable experiences was collaborating on a video with the Houston Saengerbund and Liederkranz, two German immigrant choirs. We shot the video on two choir members’ fresh bluebonnet fields just outside of Houston.


JJO: I will focus on two of my several proj-ects. Pink Dolphin Monument is the first public monument dedicated to gender and sexual minority communities in the southern US, located in R.A. Apffel Park. I created and donated this monument to the city to celebrate Auia’s gender and sexual minority posse, the “Pink Posse”, and their legendary Pink Dolphin Tavern. The mon-ument consists of a red sandstone statue, a poem, burials of triangular sandstone chips, and an unveiling ceremony. Second, I created a sculpture to deconstruct a common, detrimental colonial misrepre-sentation of Native Americans, the cigar store Indian. This sculpture consisted of removing (purchasing) such a statue from public space and transforming it into a sculpture resembling an urn. Since leaving GAR, I developed an ongoing series of sim-ilar decolonizing sculptures and published an article explaining my project in the international journal Scope: Contemporary Research Topics.


JJO: The other two artists and I maintained

36a strong dialogue among ourselves throughout the program. I also collabo-rated with communities and individuals outside of GAR, including sexual minority, gender minority, and migrant communi-ties, as well as scientists and writers. Pink Dolphin Monument involved collaborat-ing with GAR, the Galveston Commission on the Arts, and the Galveston Park Board of Trustees. Another fruitful collaboration was a project I co-curated with you, Max, in Houston titled Public Communication: Performing Knowledge of the Body.


JJO: In the final exhibition, I showed seven sculptures that presented my view of Auia’s diverse social and environmental history. The Pink Dolphin Monument un veiling ceremony—a separate event—was also part of this culmination.


JJO: For Island Time I partnered with artist/curator Léuli Eshraghi to develop a video installation called Spaceship Earth (Portal 29.330247°N 94.735097°W). These geo-graphical coordinates are the site of the Pink Dolphin Monument. With the piece, I draw attention to the rapidly growing global network of monuments for gender and sexual minorities. My vision is to offer a haven for reflection on this novel and still rare type of monument. The piece ulti-mately invites the audience to reflect on sexual and gender minorities’ unique phys-ical relationship with the earth.

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“

37MF: What does the statement “Island Time” mean to you?

JJO: “Island Time” is very familiar to me. Indeed, my year on Auia was followed by a year on Aotearoa’s green islands, which is now followed by time on Mannahatta (Manhattan). Islands bring people together in powerful ways. They activate our senses and receptors, and they force us to be acutely aware of the past, present, and future. May “Island Time” never stop.

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When I arrived, I instantly felt

at home at this intimate and

supportive residency. Everything

from our fishing excursions, the

sunlit studio and garden with its

exotic birds, and our trip to Marfa

continually inspired me.

““

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raniDavide Savorani


Davide Savorani: I grew up in a small vil-lage called Isola (island in English) in Italy. It’s really not an island at all; it’s just isolated. I only had two classmates in elementary school, which is quite an interesting parallel with my experience at GAR, isn’t it? I’m currently based in Italy, but I’m nomadic. In the last year I’ve lived in Copenhagen, Florence, Milan, and New York. I’m currently living in Milan work-ing on my next solo-exhibition opening in December.

MF: What informs the conceptual nature of your work and how do you delegate that infor-mation into your studio process?

DS: I would call myself a pan disciplinary artist. I like to be open and flexible in order

Islands have their own peculiar

time, so to me it’s about the

impact this rhythm has on my

own internal time. One should

find a middle ground between

their time and the time of

the island.

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to connect with the situations I’m involved in. My work usually starts with the ques-tion, “How can I relate to this?” It helps me understand which medium works best for the particular context. My art studies were interrupted in 1999 when I started to work as a performer for an experimen-tal theater company. I worked in theater for over 10 years, which is where I gained most of my experience. I didn’t have any background in theater, so I was approach-ing the theatrical stage mostly ignorant of the performance techniques. One of the first and most important things I learned was to listen to the scene and develop an external vision through which I could see myself moving around in and attempt to relate to it—relate to the props, the other performers, and feel the audience’s tem-perature. Theater completely changed the way I approach the exhibition space and present work. I stopped viewing my draw-ings and sculptures as frozen objects, as something that I should just hang or place somewhere, but as performers themselves. I stopped seeing an exhibition space as a tomb and as a passive white cube whose corners and cracks were invisible. I began considering the possible dialogues I could have with space. It’s like when you meet a stranger, you activate an exchange, talking and listening, observing and being observed. You have two choices, shut down or open up.


DS: At that time you could only apply by nominations. Bill Arning was part of the board and gave them my name. I think he heard about me from my work at the Spanish Pavilion at the 54th Venice

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Biennale. It took me by surprise, and I was honored. I had never heard of Galveston before!


DS: Coming from abroad, a place like Galveston is… I can’t find the words. So many things altogether! I was over-whelmed by that place in many ways: I loved it, I hated it, I felt misplaced, I didn’t understand it, and I was amazed by it all at different times. That island had a great impact on me and on my practice, but I only understood that after I left the pro-gram. It influenced everything. It flooded inside of me.


DS: I didn’t have a specific project in mind; that’s not how I usually work. Of course, I had ideas, the ones that were still boiling in my head from the previous project I exhib-ited in Copenhagen. I knew I had to turn myself into a sponge and try to absorb/release all the information Galveston would provide. And you know, in Galveston you can’t stop digging! My work was influenced by its incredible history, all the anecdotes and stories I heard at the barber shop or at bars, in the streets, and from the people I met by chance. The Can’t Get-Away Club was a combination between those stories and my own experience, plus the feelings generated by that situation.


DS: My work is also about listening. I’m not a studio based artist, so I didn’t keep

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my door closed. Focusing exclusively on production and being self-absorbed can be tricky. I walked around and at a cer-tain point I began to host my studio visits outside. I would walk around the neigh-borhood with a visitor and take them to places I was attracted to. I was also the first guest artist from abroad, so in general there were a lot of things I just didn’t know regarding Americans’ social and cultural dynamics.


DS: I grew up in an isolated place with no galleries, theaters, etc. So once I under-stood the vibe, I just hung up my dancing shoes and went eating lobsters in the bar downstairs. You know, sometimes it’s good to not be distracted by art stuff. Galveston is a museum of its own, open 24/7. Of course, sometimes I missed stimulation, but Houston was not too far away.


DS: Houston was the place where I went whenever I needed the kick of the city. So I used to go to attend openings, visit muse-ums, galleries, and to meet with friends. Of course, I had the feeling I was starting to be part of a community right before my departure. I met a lot of very kind, fun, and generous people in Houston.


DS: I wanted to attend to start something new. Once I arrived I felt the urgency to

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know more about such a unique place. Early on I asked GAR to help me meet some islanders, the intention was to use my stu-dio for weekly meetings, but it was just a proposal and it never happened. I was curious to know, learn, and discover the island through its inhabitants’ experiences, their diverse point of views and back-grounds, but unfortunately the project failed. It’s sad it didn’t happen, but it’s a good excuse to come back, right? I started to learn more about the island through the book Pioneers of West Galveston Island by Roberta Marie Christensen. I liked her approach, very human and sentimental, even naive sometimes. Her book became my guide to the island, and it helped me draw a parallel line between her expe-rience and mine. She was way more adventurous than me! Anyway, her words traced the path, and the title of the work was taken from there.


DS: Yes, I did a small project, a book called Banana days are over, with Hannah Heilmann, an amazing Danish artist that visited me for two weeks during my stay at GAR.


DS: For the exhibition, I created an environ-ment (a waiting room of some sort) in the main gallery where spectators would find a series of drawings, a visual notebook, and a mental map. My studio became the core of the final project. The floor was covered with grey wall-to-wall carpet, and the visi-tors could stare at a wall with dried banana peels pinned to it and/or watch a video

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message while sitting on fit balls. They could spend some time in there and get bored if they wanted to. It was a mise en scène, an alteration of my own experience in the same place. The fit balls that I used as seats were embodying the dynamic between two sides of the same charac-ter, a nonverbal one, represented by the dried bananas, and a verbal one repre-sented by all the more or less ambiguous sentences that were “flowing” across the video screen.


DS: That’s a tricky question. We talked about doing something new that was related to my experience in Galveston. Until recently, I thought I was coming to the museum to install the work, but plans have changed. In Galveston I started to investigate boredom, which is still part of my current research. I’m trying to draw a line between my memories in Galveston and the mental place where I am now, “So close, yet so far away,” forgive the cheesy cliche.


DS: Islands have their own peculiar time, so to me it’s about the impact this rhythm has on my own internal time. One should find a middle ground between their time and the time of the island, otherwise it will be a struggle. Galveston has such a unique time. Nights seems so slow until you look at the sky, where clouds are running like cheetahs.

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Kelly Sears: I’m typing this from Denver, Colorado. I moved here to join the Film Studies faculty at the University of Colorado in Boulder. I grew up by the Atlantic, later lived by the Pacific, and then spent time near the Gulf of Mexico. This is the first time I haven’t lived close to an ocean.


KS: I would call myself an experimental animator. I use animation techniques like cutting out, collage, and compositing to intervene, activate, and respond to col-lected print and time-based imagery. I use images from a wide range of sources, from second-hand cast offs to more official archives. I’m currently drawn to instruc-tional imagery that trains or inscribes some kind of behavioral framework. I rework images through animation so that they might evoke a sense of posterity while simultaneously turning away from some-thing institutional. The images turn into an uncanny or inexplicable blueprint for the animation.

I saw buildings from the 1900s,

boarded windows, looming

cruise ships, industrial plants,

beach tourism, fish markets,

Mardi Gras parades, and

biker rallies. “

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KS: I had just finished the Core Fellowship Program at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston and was thrilled to be one of the first residents at the Galveston Artist Residency. I visited the island previously in 2009. The Ike high water lines were everywhere. Before I moved to the island, I read Isaac’s Storm by Erik Larson which chronicles the deadly 1900 hurricane that obliterated the island. The storm fell at a time when meteorology was still a very young field, and the island meteorologist was too late to see a storm this cata-strophic coming. The island was filtered through those accounts.


KS: I strolled a lot on the island—slowly, without clear direction, exploring. I saw buildings from the 1900s, boarded win-dows, looming cruise ships, industrial plants, beach tourism, fish markets, Mardi Gras parades, and biker rallies. It was a collage of the many lives of the island. While at GAR, I ended up making two proj-ects about Texas. One was an archive fever dream made from newsreels of LBJ from the Texas Archive of the Moving Image. The other film collaged archival film of the 1931 International Pageant of Pulchritude (now known as the Miss Universe Contest) and footage from Hurricane Ike. In both works, the figures in the frame were haunted by something. That haunted feeling carried over into the work for this show.


KS: I had just finished some work at the Core Program and wasn’t sure what I was

“

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going to be working on when I arrived at GAR. I started collecting images of photog-raphers from instructional photography texts. Since I work with photographic and filmic images, I was thinking about the pro-cess of making those images. That project didn’t fully materialize while at GAR, but I revisited these images for the Island Time exhibition to make a new animation.


KS: As an animator, I often retreat when making work. But after sitting all day, I need to stroll. Galveston was an ideal environment. I had a lot of quiet time to work, but I also benefitted from walks to consignment shops and second hand bookstores to hunt for images. Many of the images from this project came from the island.


KS: Since I had recently been living in Houston, I still felt very connected to it. While at GAR, I was teaching a class at the University of Houston, so I would be there twice a week for class. I’d attend gallery openings and lectures in Houston as well. I enjoyed the part of the commute where the city fell away and the island was approaching.


KS: I worked solo at GAR on the animations. I was able to collaborate for a film event that I hosted at GAR with Houston chefs Benjy Mason and Richard Knight for FEAST/DREAM, a three-part evening that began

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with feasting on food and watching films that were curated to induce extraordinarily vivid dreams.


KS: The final exhibition for GAR during its first year was held at the Galveston Artist Residency and the Galveston Art Center. I was able to show one film in each location and because of this walking was built into experiencing the show. Strolling and drift-ing were a big part of my time at GAR, and it seemed appropriate that it was part of the final exhibition as well.


KS: The work I’m including in Island Time is called A tone halfway between light-ness and darkness. While it started on the island, it ended up really getting its legs in the Rockies. I needed time to figure out what should happen to those images; When I looked at them again, they took on an otherworldly and apparitional quality. I made another animation earlier in the year, but it was far too frenetic and aggressive for this show. I wanted to include a work that resonated more with the frequency of Galveston.

MF: What does “Island Time” mean to you?KS: Island Time describes a landscape embued with weight, pulsating with a slight drone. When there is no breeze, it’s thick on the island. If there is wind, it blends with the ocean to make a white noise hum. It’s slow and heavy.

Eric Schnell

Clint Willour

Nick Barbee

Autumn Knight

Nsenga Knight

Joe Joe Orangias

Davide Savorani

Kelly Sears

Produced in conjunction

with the exhibition

Island Time: Galveston

Artist Residency—

The First Four Years

organized by the

Contemporary Arts

Museum Houston and

curated by Eric Schnell,

on view November 21–

February 14, 2016.

Interviews by

Max Fields

Editor

Connie McAllister

Designer

Amanda Thomas

Typeset in Travaille,

designed by

David Amrock

Printed and bound in

Houston, Texas

© 2015 Contemporary Arts Museum Houston

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The Interviews

Documents

Island Time: Interviews