Making Things: What you make and where it goes

While attending various social events someone inevitably asks what I do, at which point I always say I am an artist – a conceptual artist. I sometimes consider just saying “artist” but it always feels unfaithful, as though I am cheating on my art community. This is almost always followed by questions about what that means, and what social practice is. I have yet to come up with a good answer. Unavoidably I often provide my website and suggest they take a look at my projects page, “It’s much easier to look there than to have me explain.” It’s a copout and I know it. In my experience, people want to associate artists with objects, they feel comfortable when they know which thing I make. However those of us working in this realm know that there isn’t always an object to offer. Instead, we navigate through a practice that sometimes emphasizes experience over entity.
I trained as a painter in my earlier life, but after college I reached a point in my practice where I no longer felt satisfied creating objects that went directly from the studio to a gallery wall. From there it either sold, never to be seen again, or it went back to the studio, usually taking up much needed space to gather dust. I didn’t know how to articulate what I wanted, but I knew something was gathering force. While pondering whether to pursue a graduate degree, I stumbled upon Harrell Fletcher’s website. It was a profound moment for me. Not only was he doing some very exciting work, he was also collaborating with people (even strangers) and he was listing all future ideas. He wasn’t hoarding his outstanding ability – he was putting it out there for all the world to see. I perused his site from beginning to end, and when I finished I felt absolutely euphoric. A portal had opened up for me. The possibilities were endless. I was inspired and encouraged to forge ahead and do something new.

What follows are some ideas he graciously offered up in answer to some questions I had about ways in which he works and what things do and do not mean for him.

LG: Was there a defining moment in your practice that caused the shift from a more traditional art practice to the current system you use?
HF: No, it was a gradual sort of thing. I think I can look back to my childhood to see connections with my current practice.
LG: So are you in agreement with the school of thought that everything you needed to know you learned in kindergarten?
HF: No, not at all, it's just that my practice has been part of a long continuum.
LG: Do you still have any of the work you made as a child?
HF: I have drawings from when I was a child, but that's not what I was referring to, I meant that I recall thoughts and experiences from my childhood that relate to what I do now in my practice.
LG: How should we teach our children (Beatrice and Noah) to make things, without all the trappings of modern technology?
HF: I'm not sure if that is possible, but I do take my daughter on lots of hikes.
LG: What is the role of the object in your work? What purpose does it provide for you? 
HF: Nothing special, just sometimes a project requires objects and sometimes not. I'm not hung up on objects, but sometimes they are useful or necessary for a project.
LG: How important is the audience for you? 
HF: Very important. I'm always trying to be aware of who my audience is and trying to find ways for at least some of them to participate in the projects.
LG: How important is documentation of the work for you?
HF: Very important. I want to be able to show examples of what I've done after they have happened. The documentation is of course different from the original display or event, but I think that is obvious. I'm really grateful that documentation exists of projects that other people have done that have been interesting to me, so maybe that's the case for some other people in regards to my work too.
LG: What gives you the most joy with the work you make: the brainstorming/problem solving or the actual making/executing? Which is more important to you with your work?
HF: I like all aspects of the work, they are just different, not better or worse for me.
LG: Which is more important to you with your work: Object or Ephemera? 
HF: Depends on the situation.
LG: Which is more important to you with your work: Product or Process? HF: Both are important, in some projects the process is more important in other projects the product is more important, in many projects it would be hard to separate the two.
LG: What are your three favorite works created over the last 15-20 years?
HF:I don't think about things that way.
LG: Do you ever feel that you are just creating more waste in the world, or is it important to create 'things'?
HF: I try to not create waste, but sometimes it happens. I'd like to reduce doing that as much as possible.
LG: What percentage of the work you make is put out into the world?
HF: I'd say something like 90% gets out into the "world" in some way, at least of work made in the last ten or fifteen years. I rarely make work unless it has been commissioned and is intended to be shown. Although, I do take lots of photos with my I-phone that don't get shown, so maybe that would throw off the percentage, then again I'm not sure if I consider those photos "work." Then again I'm not really sure what "work" is, so really I have no idea how to answer that question.
LG: If you recall, I once mentioned that seeing your work for the first time was like a portal opening up for me - so many possibilities realized. Have you ever had an experience like that with anyone's work?
HF: To some degree that has happened with various work I have run across, but nothing stands out at the moment. I was kind of blown away by Cy Twombly's work when I first encountered it.

Open Engagement is a unique opportunity to spend time with other artists who move through the world in similar ways. Jen Delos Reyes has provided a playground through which we might meet someone that opens imaginative portals, much like my experience with Harrell. In the spirit of collaboration, I invited conference contributors to answer some questions as well. Of the seventeen people who participated, 60% consider their practice to be one that navigates through the social practice realm, and 40% felt it does so only some of the time. Of the work made by these artists, 50-75% is put out into the world, ephemera is considered more important than the object, and the majority agreed that ‘process’ far outweighs ‘product’. Below are some thoughtful opinions and ideas about the studio, object making, process and product. Thank you to the following people for participating in this inquiry: John Fenn, Anne Elizabeth Moore, BD Collier, Hannah Jickling, Kerri-Lynn Reeves, Robin Lambert, Irina Contreras, Brenda Hutchinson, Eric Steen, Caroline Woolard, Brette Gabel, Emilia Javanica, Dawn Weleski, Douglas Paulson, Rodrigo Marti.

LG: What is the role of the object in your work? What purpose does it provide for you? What purpose does it provide to your audience?
The object is a false end-goal, as well as a catalyst. I have found it to be necessary for an audience obsessed with production if only to open the door for dialogue. // To provide a point of entry into the content of the work that may otherwise be difficult for a general audience to engage with. Objects also can provide capital for future projects when funding is hard to find. // The object's role in my work is often multi-faceted - it is a memento for the audience, a focus point for performance elements, and perhaps a sort of talisman that I can build a tale around. // Sound and performance are my media. For me, the object is significant only in its function to either make sound or attract attention. // The object is usually a representative documentation of the actual work. Sometimes even the object only exists temporarily. // The object acts as a catalyst for unconventional action. The object becomes an excuse to transgress social norms. // I like to investigate where the social, the emotional and the personal intercede with the object. Sometimes in an object that I create, or sometimes in an object that is part of my audience/participants personal narrative. // The object can be a variety of things, play a variety of roles in my own work but typically isn't the focus of my work.
LG: Is documentation of your work important to you?
Yes, because I have a terrible memory, and because people want the how-to. // Extremely important, much of my site work can only be shown through good documentation. This documentation is used for both presentations and static exhibitions. // Yes, but when swept up in the heat and excitement of a moment it is sometimes hard to remember. I think that my favorite part of documentation these days has to do with the way it can help me tell a story about my work and my experiences. // Documentation is important but I don't consider it to be a precedent in how I develop projects. I understand documentation to be a necessary tool for finances ie: there are artists who depend on documentation as a way to make a living or often for community in struggle to situate that they were somewhere in that particular time/space. // Very important. For my own records, for sharing with other people, artists, students, friends and families - the images helps me tell stories. And in a way, through the objects and images the work can continue further than when the object ends. // For the purpose of explaining what I do - yes. To exhibit in a gallery - no. // When many people experience my work and upload photos or videos to flickr, youtube, and other sites, that is the best documentation. Otherwise, I do it poorly and sadly, for the purpose of grants and residencies. // Yes, in order for me to reflect upon the work and create a history of my practice.
LG: Is the end-process of your work important to you?
Sometimes... // Yes, because it is about human relationships. work that ends sourly or negatively is bad, even if educational, I think. // Although almost all of my current projects are 'open-ended,' having points of resolution (objects, images, videos, exhibitions) is extremely important and valuable for talking about the work with a wide range of audiences. This dialog is vital to the work, so I suppose you could call this an end-process. // End process or end product? Yes, both product and process are important. I am trying to find ways to make each feel good. // Yes. But I do enjoy having control (which is a bit why I went into this genre of work - making objects that didn't have a 'focus' or 'purpose' made me feel helpless. // Yes, but not as important as how it gets there. // End-process? End-product? Most of my projects have no end. They are lifelong projects, not discrete "works".
LG: With the word 'studio' being a broadly defined space, what excites you and keeps you making things in the studio?
I'd substitute "studio" with the word "field" (itself a problematic word in the discipline of folklore), and say that what excites me is the opportunity to work with people toward understandings and awareness of cultural diversity in all forms. // By making are you talking about the creation of physical objects? Or do you mean more generally just doing? What excited me is the potential to find more effective ways of inspiring positive social change. // I periodically make things in the studio so I can get out into the field, represent something I have done in the field, or to stimulate conversations or actions by others. // That idea of shelter, and the meditative value of making something with my hands that turns into something. A visual arrangement of materials... sometimes dicking-around on photoshop has the same feeling for me, even though it feels more psycho and less wholesome to be staring at a computer screen. // I think historical legacies are cyclical enough to see where narratives can continue to inspire and produce and reproduce. // Panic. // It's the place to think and plan and try things out. It's also the place where I make things of personal significance to me. Plus I love to make noise and music and to practice an instrument. I like the private time too. // I don't have one. Although I had one in a residency recently and I enjoyed having a place to retreat to, and a place to store my stuff and test out how things should look on a wall. // Whether it's my studio, my office, or my shop, I need a place to make things. Understanding the process of making and conceptualizing objects is important in a world where craftsman are going extinct. Responding to material properties as much as ideas, I become aware of the full life cycle of objects. // The possibility of connecting with people - known and unknown - that reside in the world outside of my studio.
LG: Do you ever feel that you are just creating more waste in the world, or is it important to create 'things'?
I like things, though I'd say I rarely create them as an element of my professional/academic work. // Creating things is sometimes useful but it goes without saying that we are producing far too much for reasons that are often less than justifiable. I believe it's always a better solution to remake, reuse or repurpose existing things. // I don't believe that creating things equals waste. To me waste is all the shit produced by the commercial world, and trends and planned obsolescence and take-out dining. Stuff produced by artists rarely ever equals waste to me. I do think about where our materials come from as artists and the choices we make as consumers. My MFA in Paper Maché advocates for making things out of waste materials (and sometimes purposefully generating a sort of waste or surplus with which to make more paper maché things out of). // My "things" are generally so ephemeral that they don't take up much space. Just time and the idea of wasting time is pretty subjective. // Yes, I definitely worry about this! And that has definitely led to me reconsidering what I make and how I make things. There's plenty of trash to make things from without having to resort going to Home Depot. // I try to make sure that what I make isn't a waste, but I do feel a burden to make less. // I don't make a lot of things precisely because I feel like I could be creating more waste. // I re-use materials that are destined for landfills. The things I create (public seats, swings for the subway, work dresses, barter networks) create plausible alternatives that people can physically try out, moving from knowing to doing. Without these objects, the range of people willing to interact and "risk the experiment" would shrink a lot. // I feel it is important to create experiences and connections and to look at how those are associated with, created through, tied to, and sometimes centered around "things".