On the occasion of the site-specific Aster installation in Fusco Hall, I spoke with Jamey Grimes about his process, inspirations, experiences, and creative practice.
Margaret: In your artist statement, you mention natural encounters as a source of inspiration. Are there a few specific instances you can recall?
Jamey: I do find similar patterns in a variety of locations, but there are a few standout experiences. I’ve always been drawn to the ocean, spending hours wading through surf or snorkeling under the surface, particularly in the Florida Keys. I spent many childhood summers on the Fort Morgan peninsula in Alabama, walking through ankle-to-waist-deep water with a dip net, trying to catch stingrays. My brother and I would catch and release, out of curiosity. Looking for the telltale signs of a buried stingray requires intense concentration, as we’d attempt to tune out the sounds and forces of the extreme tidal shifts across wide benches of sand. Everything was constantly moving, with the foam of the surf covering all visibility of the sandy bottom, repeatedly. We would walk the peninsula for miles in the surf, staring through wave after wave. Intricate patterns would repeat in the sand and water, changing over time as the tides shifted, the sunlight faded, or as we neared the end of the peninsula. I sometimes take these experiences for granted, but I recognize connections to the patterns and forces that come out in the abstracted artwork that I create. I have a similar affinity towards tornados, thunderstorms, and rapid rivers; also, many limestone and sandstone erosion patterns have had a distinct influence on my visual language. I have been lucky to be able to spend tremendous amounts of time exploring and observing nature, and I use sculpture to reflect on that accumulation of experiences.
Margaret: There is a powerful sense of movement in your work, the Aster installation at DelArt in particular. How might you anticipate or hope a viewer might be impacted by that sense of movement?
Jamey: Thunderstorms feel faster than a normal cloud, but also ominously still, much like a standing wave in a rapid river surface. These examples of active danger move faster than their calmer counterparts, such as a quiet cloud or a gentle stream. When these dynamic forces accelerate, it triggers a human alert response, as a possible clue to incoming danger. I’m keenly interested in gestures that elicit that response within a frozen moment in time. A pattern tends to establish a system of similarity, repeating what is “normal”; however, we have ingrained survival responses to contrast within our environment; danger tends to stand out from a pattern, but it may also attempt to hide in plain sight. I’m drawn to encounters that awaken our senses, and our emotional responses awakened within those moments, like a zebra looking for a predator amongst the grass. What visual clues catch human attention? Fear, excitement, and curiosity can be drawn from expressions that indicate change or motion, even when the gesture is frozen in time.
Margaret: Your installation process is methodical and efficient, resulting in a visually stunning installation. Can you describe a bit of the behind-the-scenes process to realize this large, site-specific work? How do you consider the space? What tools do you use when envisioning a new piece?
Jamey: I find that the process works best when I let the plastic find a natural flow, avoiding trends that would attempt too much control. The material wants to behave in unique ways, such as the natural bend in any single, flexible piece of plastic being added to the group. Each panel section is typically two by eight feet, held by two to three suspension points. As panels connect, a linear flow is determined by an “allowable” curve that feels awkward, if exceeded; stagnant if not encouraged. Layering effects give definition and structure to the main direction of the piece, complemented by off-shooting spurs that generate a sense of turbulence. Turbulent flow is directly influenced by the space that it moves through, so I spend time considering the form of a room as I install. Even before installation, I often create a digital model of the space, based on photos and measurements. Once built to-scale, this is a powerful tool for visualizing possible configurations. I can add digital artwork to better understand the quantity of material needed, while also aiding in communication with a client or host. This allows considerations for primary site-lines, hanging height, unique architectural features, cameras or sprinkler systems- anything that can influence the gesture and placement of the artwork. After this planning, the installation is likely to change significantly as it goes up, as I will react to subtle features not predicted by the digital proposal. See the video below where Grimes speaks a little more about this process.
Margaret: I love your desire to create an experience that is between “unsettling and serene.” I am reminded of other artists (Hudson River School painters for example) who may similarly desire a viewing response. Are you considering a correlation to the human experience with nature in this balance?
Jamey: I’m fascinated by the exploration of the sublime in the Hudson River School group. When looking down a painted Albert Bierstadt valley, there is a sense of exaggerated drama in the lighting and the composition, as though individual inspirational moments were curated into a single image. However, walking the John Muir Trail myself, the paintings feel accurate in how they represent the experience, which is difficult to pinpoint in person. Dramatic lighting can appear theatrical in some of these paintings, but something complicated happens when you stand in the real space and watch the lighting change. The experience is fleeting and begs to be captured in a moment, but it is not truly possible to hold all of these elements. Even the desire to do so is a bit odd, bringing human emotion and hubris into a natural setting that does not actually feel any emotion. It is our observation that adds this stirring response, yet nature somehow holds a great power. There are definitely some other questions that come up, as we’re in a more introspective time, but I find these thought experiments intriguing.
Jamey Grimes on Aster: Creating a site specific work