Acts of Transformation
I was recently in conversation with biennial artist Eileen Richardson and we discovered that we both have an interest in fungus and bacteria. For her piece Ex Situ Richardson manipulates reishi mushrooms, and as an artist, naturalist, and chef she has developed a deep understanding of both the natural and culinary uses of mushrooms. For about seven years my husband and I cultivated shiitake and oyster mushrooms for farmers markets and direct sale. I learned how to inoculate logs and build environments conducive to mushroom growth, how to spot the mycelium growth, and how to manipulate fruiting. During that time mushrooms became a daily part of my diet, including dried and ground mushrooms, and other fungi foraged for us by friends. I began to see mushrooms everywhere; I could spot a Sulphur Shelf in a stand of trees from a few hundred feet away, or even driving by in my car at 50 mph.
Richardson also discussed another recent project where she taught people how to make sourdough bread using fermented starters. We talked about fermentation and the work of fermentation expert and author Sandor Katz, and I learned that Richardson participated in one of his fermentation residencies, a program I have been interested in for quite some time. While learning to make my own sauerkraut and other ferments I found Katz’s books to be both informational and reassuring. All I needed to do was create the proper conditions and the bacteria would take care of the rest.
Fungus helps to decompose organic matter making it easier for the nutrients to be absorbed and distributed in the ecosystem. Bacteria in fermentation plays a similar role, helping to prepare food to be better digested and absorbed in the human body. Fundamentally fermentation and fungus are acts of transformation.
In her essay juror Ksenya Gurshtein discusses the “Nature” and “Culture” galleries as being fluid. Stating that “since the works suggest, both subtly and unsubtly, the ways that things that are ‘natural’ -- food and diseases, for instance -- intrude upon the human lived environment while the ‘human’ -- pervasively present in everything from built environments to resource extraction to endless plastic trash -- intrudes on ‘nature.’”
Her words, written before Covid-19 closures affected museums and artists, seem prescient and urgent, and are reflected in the works on view. In Surgery Quilt the artist Anne Burton talks about a rare bacteria inadvertently inhaled by her son, causing the growth of a tumor. Joe Bussell and Linnebur & Miller both use found plastics in their work, referencing the ubiquitous appearance of plastics in our world, invading our bodies even on a microscopic level. Kammy Kennelley-Downs and Kelsey Hoines both depict the miniscule worlds of plant life but on a grand scale, exploring growth and movements too small for human perception but that over time envelop us.
In my conversations with artists over the last couple of months I have asked them how they have been responding to the pandemic. There have been recurring themes in their answers: grateful for the opportunity to step back and reflect, frustration over the loss of access to studio or workspace, anxiety over the loss of income and opportunities, and expressions of hopefulness that we can learn from this moment. Throughout the country individuals and organizations have quickly coordinated resources and funding to support artists, create the right environment for growth, and to nurture the beneficial cultures. These are acts of transformation.
