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Before the Paint Dries

A regular column by Faith Flanagan featuring up-and-coming local artists.

By Faith Flanagan
Sculptor Mary Early works with concrete and wax to create pieces that appear weightless but have a surprising density. The forms are concurrently simple shapes and expressive ideas. "I'm interested in presenting another version of the truth or another version of your expectations of a certain material or a certain shape," she says.
 
 


A Washingtonian by birth, sculptor Mary received her B.F.A. from Bennington College in Vermont with a thesis on sculpture and printmaking. She talks about her art and influences, the pleasure of texture and power tools, and the energy generating her work.

Faith Flanagan (FF):
Let's talk a little bit about your background…. What did you study in school?

Mary Early (ME):
I studied sculpture, printmaking, drawing, and video. My thesis was within sculpture and printmaking. For practical reasons I just stopped doing two-dimensional works. I don't make prints, and I don't do a whole lot of drawing right now. It hasn't been a very big part of my practice.

FF: Do you make any preliminary sketches of your work?
ME: I sketch or lay out things more while I'm making them. I sometimes do sketches to work out proportions or the geometry of something. The table we're sitting at has a circle on it because when I was fabricating these shapes to make larger shapes, I would have to make sure each one had the same radius.
 
FF: Are people ever surprised by the physicality of your work? You're such a slight person.
ME: I've dealt with that forever. A lot of people are surprised when they meet me for the first time. I went for a job interview for a studio assistant job while I was in college, and one of my painting/drawing teachers had suggested that I work with this person over the winter internship term. Later, he said, 'You know, when John called and told me about you, I thought that some, like, six-foot Amazon with a pipe wrench was going to show up at my studio, but instead here's this little tiny person!' And that only makes me think that somebody thought enough of me to make me sound like a beast, so there must be something good about that. I don't think my work says, 'This was done by a person who is this tall or this wide or this strong.'
 
FF: Not at all.
ME: But when people don't know what I do, and I say I'm a sculptor, they often register a look of surprise.
 
FF: When I was at DCAC, it was very funny to watch people have a reaction.
ME: To what?
 
FF: That it was work by a female…
ME: Oh yeah, 'She's wearing heels and carrying a purse…'
 
FF: I don't really see them [sculptures] as masculine or feminine.
ME: I wouldn't ascribe gender to these, either. I've always stayed away from ideas like that, partially because it's an easy way to get away from the immediate subject, and I'm more interested in working out ideas of forms and space and texture than I am about working out philosophical ideas. I don't think that my work has a political or social agenda.
 
FF: So you'd say your role as an artist is more to express yourself than to reflect society around you?
ME: Yes. And not even just expressing myself, but expressing ideas that are already there, under our feet, in nature or in architecture, or an object or a rock, or something that grows or doesn't grow, or just sits there.
 
FF: You mentioned texture. How do you feel about texture in relation to your work?
ME:

I think that of all the work that I'm doing now. Everything has a surface that you might compare to a skin. These are all objects crafted from the outside-in or the inside-out. They have a wax surface applied to them, and that has layers, irregularities, differences in texture and density. It gives it almost a fleshy feeling. They have a distinct surface.

Some of the pieces here are still in their concrete form, and most of these are made out of some kind of foam armature, metal, or wire, and then covered with concrete. That's what gives them their distinct shape and their rigidity, and that's also where the texture of the surface that is going to come later starts. It's scraped and sort of trowelled, and some parts are smooth and shiny; some parts are dull. Then I'll cover that with wax, in differing layers, and then once again, I'll work with the wax. I burnish it or smooth it or scrape it. I'm going for a kind of burnished, shiny finish to the wax.
 

FF: What kind of materials do you use? I see the concrete and wax….
ME: Concrete and wax, and then peripheral materials. I use Styrofoam peanuts, Styrofoam panels. I'd say I use kind of mundane materials and I always have. Before I started using wax, I used a lot of rubber and plaster. I've always gone toward materials with a seamless feeling to them.
 
FF: What artists do you most admire or have inspired you?
ME:

That's always the hardest question. It's hard to separate artists you know and have worked with from famous artists whose work you may have never seen in person, but that you really love and have been inspired by.

I guess I'd start with Rachel Whiteread, who does cast interiors and cast objects. When I first saw her work, I felt like I was seeing something that I was trying to figure out how to do myself. So at the time when I saw her (I think it was "ghost" -- a piece in London that was a cast inside of a house), I had been casting parts of floors and walls and corners in the studio. That influenced me because it made me realize that my experimentation was certainly recognized in someone else's work, so that I should keep at it.
 

FF: The library?
ME: Yes. So that's one sculptor. Also Ann Hamilton's work, an installation artist who does pieces beyond the scale of imagination -- pieces that take up a huge amount of energy and labor. She just creates environments that are like a dream. I like Donald Judd a lot, and Martin Puryear. I can think of their work in the same sentence. They project similar ideas about space, and they both have this reverential approach to the physical thing they are making. I like to look at the work of sculptors who, no matter what material they're using, they're treating it with the utmost respect.
 
FF: Well, the opposite question of that is what school of art or particular artist would you be happy never to see again?
ME: I like installation art a lot, but I don't like performance art. I would love to watch a video of performance art presented in a really beautiful installation setting. I love expensive technology cut into a gallery wall, and you watch it, and it's like watching a sculpture with light in it.
 
FF: Do you consider your sculpture abstract?
ME: I consider it abstract, but with references to physical forms or physical attributes of our landscape or biology.
 
FF: What are the most important forces behind your work?
ME: I think the most important thing generating energy for my work is my desire to make a record of something. To make a record of an idea about a space, or to make a record about something that I saw that engaged me.
 
FF: What three words best describe your artwork?
ME: Can 'low to the ground' be one word? Subtle. Tangible, physical: You can see what you're about to touch. I would say tactile -- tactile with warmth.
 
FF: Do people want to touch your work?
ME: They do. Usually after something has been exhibited, there are little marks. One time I found lipstick.
 
FF: That's hysterical. (laughing)
ME: It was a sculpture with a wax surface -- it was a very distinct lip mark. Which is way more interesting than dust, sawdust, and debris.
 
FF: Has the accidental played a role in your work?
ME: I think so. It's all related. I make one piece, and then I make a related piece, and something might happen -- like some shape changes while I'm working on it, and then I finish it anyway. The next thing I make is something to replicate the mistake that made the last piece.
 
FF: What would you say you most want to communicate through your work?
ME:

I think I want to communicate ideas about objects. About how objects relate to each other, about how they relate to where they are, where they're being viewed or where they're exhibited, or how something relates to the floor it's sitting on. Also how the shape or form of an object relates to its materials -- what it's made out of.

I like to think about how something would feel if it was made out of the opposite material. All the work I make is heavy in feeling -- physically heavy, but not visually heavy. It's interesting to think about what these shapes say visually in contrast to what they actually are. It's hard to decipher what they're made out of. I don't think anyone could really guess without having a conversation about it beforehand. So I'm interested in that. And it's not that I'm interested in deceiving or playing a trick on the viewer; I'm interested in presenting another version of the truth or another version of your expectations of a certain material or a certain shape.
 

FF: If you had to choose a job that wasn't art-related, what would it be?
ME:

I would like to be a racecar driver.
 

FF: Why is that?
ME: So that I could drive really fast in very expensive machines, and every time something broke off of it, they would put a new one right back on, and I could just keep racing.
 
FF: There's something about the romance of a machine, don't you think?
ME: There definitely is. Machines, power tools, all that. Good stuff.

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Faith Flanagan pays her monthly bills by working at The Phillips Collection as the director of graphic communication. She dreams of being independently wealthy with a last name like "Kennedy." Since that is highly unlikely, she's settled for being an aspiring art maven and for growing old gracefully without giving up live music. Her most recent project is MUSE, an art salon on the first Sunday of the month at DCAC.

 


 
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