[MUSIC PLAYING]
Hi, everyone and welcome.
Thank you for joining us today's program, featuring Artist,
and Educator, Jodie Cavalier, presented
as part of the Wignall Museum's Home Edition.
Home Edition is a series of curated artist talks,
workshops, and discussions featuring
artists and cultural workers.
My name is Rebecca Trawick.
And I serve as the Director and Curator of the Wignall Museum
at Chaffey College.
The Wignall Museum is a teaching museum and interdisciplinary
arts space that introduces Chaffey College students,
faculty, staff, and community members
to innovative contemporary art objects and ideas.
By fostering critical thinking, visual literacy, discourse,
and empathy, the museum seeks to enhance
the intellectual and cultural life of our community.
We want to take a moment to recognize that we are situated
on the Rancho Cucamonga campus of Chaffey College, which
resides on the traditional and unceded lands of the Tongva
people.
We offer our recognition and respect to the elders
both past, present, and future.
And hello, my name is Roman Stollenwerk.
I am the Assistant Curator at the Wignall Museum.
Please visit us at www.chaffey.edu/wignall
to access our full schedule of programs and available
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Thank you.
Hello, everyone.
My name is Andy Hadle.
I am the Preparator at the museum I'll be assisting.
Rebecca and Roman with today's session.
In a moment, Jodie Cavalier will present for about a half
an hour or so, with the remaining
time being available for Q&A.
Thanks Roman and Andy.
Today, I have the honor of introducing our guest artist,
Jodie Cavalier.
Jodie is a project based artist, working
with residuals of daily life, objects, food, and language.
Cavalier earned her BA from the University
of California Berkeley, and MFA from Pacific Northwest College
of Art Portland, Oregon.
Cavalier has participated in residencies including
the Center for Land Use Interpretation, Wassaic,
AZ West Wagon Encampment, and ONCA.
Her work has been exhibited at museums across the Pacific
Northwest, and California, Chicago,
New York, and Frankfurt.
Jodie grew up in the Inland Empire,
and is a graduate of Chaffey College.
She participated in the Student Invitational honors course
and exhibition in 2008.
We're thrilled to have Jodie return to the college virtually
to care about her studio practice.
So please join me in giving Jodie a warm, virtual welcome
to Home Edition.
Welcome, Jodie, and thank you.
Thank you so much.
It's great to be back here at Chaffey,
feels really full circle for me.
I really thought a lot about the type of work
I wanted to share when Rebecca asked me to do this.
And I make a lot of different types of things,
and had been working on a lot of different types of projects.
But I really kept coming back to thinking about language
as a type of material, and thinking about some
of the projects that I had really been focusing on,
and still working on.
And thinking about this last year,
and how it has shifted our lives,
and how these moments are really fleeting,
everything is kind of fleeting.
And even before we let folks into this presentation room,
we were talking about time, and how
time is very much a construct.
And how we are following a different type of time now.
And so I'm really thinking about my artwork
that I'm about to show you as being
the kind of ephemeral kind of qualities at place,
and then also the artwork itself is the intangible moments.
And so there's going to be a lot of text.
And I'll read some of that.
And there's going to be some work that is a little bit
hard to categorize.
I wanted to start out with this first image,
because this is actually one of the works that reconnected
Rebecca and I. This piece was supposed to be in a show right
before the pandemic hit the US, and closure started to happen.
The exhibition kind of got postponed, and inevitably,
canceled.
Or we don't know.
We don't know what.
But this piece is a real turning point for me in my practice.
It was one of the pieces that overtly addressed my interest
in food, food justice, and my cultural heritage.
And then also a more traditional kind of art practice.
So I was able to create this work
while I was in residency at a place in Portland called
the Working Library, where I was able to learn
letterpress printing.
And so this is part of an addition of hand letter press
prints.
And the language itself came actually pretty naturally,
and all at once.
It was included in a small zine.
And there was a point in which I realized
it was a lot more powerful than I initially expected
when I put it in the zine.
And I wanted to kind of take that out
and let it have its own life.
And so I made this print, which is kind of stylized to be
a kind of wanted poster format.
But then through this repetition of language,
and somewhat of humor, you start to really understand
the complexities of what is being said,
which is that it's more than just about food and eating.
It's about life.
It's about healing.
It's about so many other things in our life.
And so after this piece, I was really
leaning into using language a lot more,
and using a kind of more direct poetic, I guess, in my work.
I was always interested in a kind of poetic approach
in my art making, but never really using
language in this way.
And so I really, like I said, leaned into that,
and started to make more of this type of work.
So this is one of many pieces that are essentially menus.
And so I collaborated with an artist
here in Portland who is actually one of my graduate advisors.
Her name is M.K. Guth.
And we worked on a series of menus.
And so we wanted to take clues and cues
from restaurant and dining experiences,
and use those in the work.
And that was kind of the starting point.
And so we made a series of these menus.
And this one in particular, is one
of my favorites of the series.
I was thinking about it being a kind of like Gothic style.
Maybe something that you would see
in a funeral home with a cross between like a fancy steak
house or something.
And so I was really like grabbing
these different kinds of inspirations,
and created this piece.
It's called preservation.
And I was thinking about a kind of preservation
of self through loss, and the kind of transformation
that happens.
But also, thinking about food more directly.
And I was researching a lot of methods of preserving food.
And so there's a transformation that definitely happens
there too where the food almost can almost go rotten, and then
turn and be preserved in this way.
So the text itself on the right side that you see,
I'll read that.
It's broken up into courses, again,
to mimic that kind of menu.
So there's a first core, second course, third course,
and then the sweet.
And it says I have nothing against life.
I watch as time has bruised the flesh.
Taste it go odd, never dead, but resurrected.
Nothing is stronger than what rises up from the ashes.
And so again, thinking about the different ways
that even just the term preservation can mean, and also
subversing it.
Similarly with the first piece, like thinking
about the repetition of, I want food.
I want food.
And.
Then at a certain point as you're reading through it,
it kind of changes.
And this piece was part of a project like I said,
that was a collaboration.
We created these menus.
They were exhibited pretty traditionally in a gallery.
There were some dining tables, which you could grab the menu,
and kind of spend more time with it.
But they also-- the gallery gave us
an opportunity to have a dinner, basically, to host a dinner.
And so in true fashion, my collaborator and I
wanted to complicate this dinner process.
And so we secured an off site location.
And we wanted to think about, again, breaking apart
what the dining experience is.
And we decided that we wanted to have a multi-course dinner,
but each course would be at a different site on this old camp
property.
And so we moved with our dinner guests
to each different location, and had a bite to eat,
and then ended up all in one location
at the end for the main course.
And so this piece, like I said, there
was a text that was kind of read at each site, and then
a little bite of food.
And then they were kind of related,
and we talked about those things before moving on
to the next one.
I wanted to read an excerpt from that project.
I suppose I'll read two excerpts,
but we'll start off with this one.
So this is a kind of zoomed in map of the property.
And then there's an image on the left there of me
in the middle of reciting what I will share with you now.
But this particular spot in the project,
I'm talking about water.
And so we were thinking about the elements that
were present in this location.
So I'll read you a short excerpt from this particular section.
"There are two creeks that run through this property.
They are known today as Bee Creek and Canyon Creek.
They intersect over there.
The water that fills this small lake is from Bee Creek.
At one time, there were a number of Native salmon fish that
made their home in this Creek.
They are no longer there.
Maybe they will return.
Maybe something else will take their place.
The creeks keep moving.
And they are never still.
Close your eyes.
I like to imagine those fish as ghosts.
And if those ghost fish were a light,
this whole lake would glow and illuminate
everything in the dark, everything
down there in the water, and everything around us
up here in the air.
We would see everything differently.
Imagine seeing everything differently
than how we see it now.
You can open your eyes."
This is another site on the property.
And this particular location, I was really drawn to-- well,
the name of this location on the property
is called Cedar Circle.
And there's a bunch of cedar trees
that kind of make this opening in this kind
of really lush and densely populated with trees area.
And so I knew that I wanted to write
about the trees in some fashion.
And at that time, I was also doing a lot of research
on Mexican healing practices.
And so it really was a kind of nice moment
where I could insert some of my research,
and also talk about the actual kind of ingredient,
or material that was present surrounding us.
And so I'll read you an excerpt from this particular location.
And then this is the last I'll share of this project.
But it definitely starts to feed into a lot
of the other projects.
All right.
"Cedar bark was once used in the production of rope, mats,
and basketry, often combined with other elements
of the cedar, such as limbs, roots,
bows, used your strength or decoration.
In the past, cedar bark was the main material used
in the production of clothing for the Sto:lo people
in British Columbia, and other tribes in the Pacific
Northwest."
Which is where this took place, which is where I live.
"After the bark was peeled into long strips from the trees,
the outer layer split away, and the flexible inner layer
was shredded and processed.
The resulting felted strips of bark
were soft, and could be sewn or woven
into a variety of fabrics.
My great aunt practiced Mexican healing methods.
She passed away a few years ago.
There's an ailment in Mexican culture
that's not easily translated into English.
Susto is what it's called.
It's something you can see in a person, and maybe have felt,
but there's no language, no words to fully describe it.
It's not recognized in Western medicine.
Susto is the loss of spirit, a loss of soul,
a magical fright, a trauma.
The children held in detention centers
at the border that can't remember their own mothers,
this is susto.
A ritual using cedar is used to help cure susto.
Bark and branches are gathered to make a broom.
The cedar broom is used on the body as if to sweep
the susto away from the surface.
The cedar tree is generous.
Maybe learn from the generosity of these kinds of trees."
So this next project, I was invited
to meet the curatorial committee at a middle school
here in Portland.
And it's a project, a social practice project,
a contemporary art museum housed inside the middle school.
And it's called KSMoCA, the King School
Museum of Contemporary Art.
And the curatorial committee is made up
of 4th graders and 5th graders, I think.
And the group invited me in with their advisor, Ross Cruz,
who's pictured here in the center of the image.
And I showed them a bunch of my work,
and they decide one, if they're going
to show my work in their school and their museum.
And two, which of the works they might want to show.
So we met on a Thursday, which is pizza day in the cafeteria.
And we all got our pizzas, and went back to the room,
and kind of were looking at my work.
And I was talking about the work I was making.
And in particular, a lot of the work that was more print based,
and then some of the work that was around these Mexican
rituals that I was researching at the time.
And so they were really drawn to these rituals,
and had all kinds of experiences of their own
to share about family rituals, and different things that they
would do in their own culture.
And they were really jazzed about me bringing
in these series of hand brooms.
And so they knew they wanted to have that be part of the piece.
And so instead of just having them select
works, and me installing these pieces,
I decided that maybe we should collaborate on the piece
together.
And so that's what we did for a series of a couple of months.
I went to the school on pizza Thursdays,
and we met, and we talked about the work
that we were making together.
So it started out from the broom itself,
and the idea of this ritual.
And I asked the students what were
the things that kind of ailed them,
or what were the things that worried them.
And they began to share those experiences with me,
and those things that they were thinking about.
And I used that text to create this line drawing that
referenced the broom.
And so what you see next to the room are two prints.
One, you know, framed more traditionally,
and the other one in this kind of a spiral
bound format where students could
rip off a copy of the print, and take it home if they wanted to.
So they were really interested in the kind
of interactive qualities of my work.
So I wanted to make sure that those were also present
and included.
And so the text itself has, like I said,
the responses to their questions, what worries them.
So they were talking about a really intense subject matter
actually, family members getting sick, friends moving away,
doing good in school.
They talked about gun violence, and mass shootings in schools,
and all types of things that we might not think children
are processing, but they were readily
available to talk about and share.
And so it was a really wonderful and powerful piece
that we worked on together.
Here's a kind of closer up of the take away print.
So you can see the text that turns into the line drawn.
And they help me choose the colors, and all of that
as well, very collaborative.
So I have just a couple more things to share.
Right before the pandemic hit, I was taking a self publishing
course, and getting ready to publish
a book of poetry and images.
And I'm going to read a kind of excerpt from that.
It's a project that I haven't continued to work on yet.
I hope to, but my process is very long.
And this past year has been particularly challenging
on my creative practice.
And I haven't been able to--
I guess, more and what's happening in the world,
and in my life.
And I think once that happens, I might be able to work,
and kind of process more through some projects I have in mind.
I have lots of projects that just kind of stopped.
But here is one that again, I intend
to include in the publication, but I also
am using as a kind of experimental presentation,
or like, in a performative way, which
is why you see this lovely image of water.
All right.
"I have a project I can't get out of my head.
I think about it all of the time.
But the real issue is that it refuses
to move from my head to paper, and from paper
back to the Earth.
It's a hill in the middle of the ocean, my nephew says.
It has water.
It has flowers and animals on it.
The project is about islands, or a specific island,
I'm not sure.
How do I even write about an island?
And why do I even care?
I grew up in the Mojave Desert, flat, dry land
as far as you can see, and as far
as you can possibly imagine.
The only water I saw were mirages.
Can you see it?
Do you see it too, my sister would say,
as she knocked her fist against my arm.
An optical phenomenon in which light rays
bend to produce a displaced image of distant objects,
or the sky.
The word comes from mirari, meaning to look at, to wonder.
This is the same root as for mirror and to admire.
My grandmother is an island.
I look at her from peer, from my body with admiration.
My grandfather says, I know your grandmother is not well.
She repeats things all the time.
But I just got to go with the flow, mija.
I just got to go with the flow.
My grandmother is an island, the water washing away her memory.
My grandmother, my grandmother is an island.
And then this is the last piece I'll show.
It is a piece I made this past year.
The same gallery who invited me to work with my collaborator
on the series of menus commissioned
me to revisit this piece that was a version of one
of the menus from before.
But I made a different kind of version of it
that really kind of referenced my life
in that moment mid-pandemic almost
about this time last year.
And so it has that same kind of repeating quality.
It's called Waiting For.
And it always starts with waiting for,
"Waiting for something to happen,
waiting for time to hold still, waiting for water to boil,
waiting for the words to lose meaning,
waiting for memories to fade, waiting for things to blow
over.
Waiting to work again, waiting for wisdom,
waiting for the struggle to end."
And it goes on and on and on.
And it's this combination of really mundane things
that happen in our lives, like, waiting for the laundry to dry,
bumped up against things that are really
happening in that moment, waiting for the election,
waiting for these moments of peace.
You know, especially during a time with so much upheaval,
and Portland being one of the city centers of resistance
in the country.
And so there was so much happening then.
It was hard not to have these mundane things in your life
get butt up against very, very serious things as well.
So this was a kind of piece that reflected that.
And that's what I have for you.
Thanks for bearing with me.
I'm recovering from a sinus infection.
Thank you, Jodie.
I know you're an artist who uses language and text,
but now I see you're also a poet and writer.
So thank you.
A menu for waiting is so poignant in these times
particularly.
So thank you so much.
Yeah.
I loved that you talked about the KSMoCA program.
I'm a huge fan of that program.
And love that the students, they do all the work themselves.
They consist of the curatorial committee.
And I just think it's brilliant.
So I love that you were able to collaborate with them.
And I love that you talked about that you really approached it
as a collaboration.
A collaboration is one of these things
that seems really mysterious, and kind of magical to people.
And so rarely do I hear discussions
about what collaborations look like, what
it means, what it constitutes, a successful collaboration.
So maybe you could talk about how you approached
collaborations, and you could use KSMoCA
as the sort of test case, or talk
about any of the collaborations that you've done.
Yeah, that's a hard one.
I think, I can say coming from maybe a pretty large family,
that definitely--
that's my nephew talking.
That definitely has affected the way
I think about collaboration.
I think so much about art making is authorship.
And with collaboration, I think you
have to let a lot of that authorship go.
And you have to think about the collaboration, at least for me,
I can speak to my own collaboration experiences.
But for me, collaboration is more about that relationship
than it is about the outcome.
And so when I keep thinking about that,
and prioritizing that, then it helps
to make decisions about what is best
for that particular situation.
Every collaboration is different.
And then working with youth is very different than working
and collaborating with adults.
So yeah, with the KSMoCA crew, you know,
they had been working with artists for a while,
and having KSMoCA be in their school for quite some time.
And so they were already used to what
relationships look like with artists from the outside.
And so you know, I just leaned into what
they were wanting and thinking.
And that helped drive it.
And they were eager and open to hear what I had to say,
but also, had their own ideas as well.
And so for me, it's just with KSMoCA also,
I just feel really grateful that they invited me in.
It's such a well-known project across the country.
And even though there's seemingly a lot at stake,
it also didn't feel like that.
It felt really comfortable.
And it felt like we could do whatever we wanted to do.
Because they were always pushing up against the kind of rules.
And so we just kind of went with it.
So you grew up in Inland Empire, and you're
an alumni of Chaffey College.
So I'm wondering if you have any advice for students
who might be interested in a career in the arts,
or are looking for--
or just have a future in the arts in general.
I wonder if you had any advice for them.
And it's funny, because we were talking before folks entered
the room, but I was saying that initially, I
wanted to go to culinary school before I went to college.
And didn't go down that path.
But then while I was in school, I
studied so many different things,
because I really didn't see a way that I could be an artist,
and maintain like a career doing that.
Like, I always knew that I would make art,
but I didn't think that I could have a career doing that.
And I was saying, I didn't feel pressured by anyone.
I just had that kind of thought in my head.
And I kept taking art classes anyway.
And I took a lot of other courses, which
is the reason I think so much of my work
is interdisciplinary, because it is influenced by psychology,
and sociology, and all these other classes
that I took over the years.
And so my advice is like a long winded response.
But I guess my advice is that if you're
continuing to take art classes, even though you don't think--
maybe you felt similarly, you didn't
think that it was possible to have a career.
You've got to maybe listen to yourself a little bit more
and pursue that.
But it isn't easy, obviously.
And I had plenty of faculty over the years
give me statistics about how many artists don't make it.
And so the way that you can become successful
is just continuing to make, talking to your faculty,
really developing relationships with your teachers,
and they're your community.
And then being really engaged in any kind of other clubs
or collectives, or any other extracurricular things that
you can be a part of.
Because it's less hard when you're doing it together,
when you're sharing resources.
As I think a lot of folks have experienced this past year,
it takes working together.
It takes a village to make things happen.
And that's how I was able to kind
of navigate through school, and starting an art practice,
and kind of really seeing it through.
And it's also a lifelong thing.
I think so many folks are eager to be
successful at every kind of step of the way.
And that's not realistic.
And that's how you burn out.
I think of my art practice as a lifelong practice.
And you know, there's these moments
that are punctuated where I have these great opportunities,
and work with some amazing artists, and gets shown,
or whatever.
But there's still a lot of life left.
And so I'm not so worried, or I try
not to get worried about who gets more attention,
who is a younger artists with more accolades,
or what have you.
I can only worry about myself, and do what I can do.
We've got a question from Evelyn.
What does your creative process look like?
Do you have a very specific way to go about ideas or projects?
My process is very research based.
I start with a set of ideas or concerns,
and really will go down a rabbit hole
of just kind of researching.
And you know, messing with-- if it's a material,
or if there's a material that's related to the idea,
then I might experiment with that.
A lot of it is kind of wandering for a long period of time.
I do spend a lot of time just thinking, which
took me a long time to get used to,
or to even be able to admit.
You know, I would spend time in the studio
just like sitting on a couch just kind
of staring blankly off, and trying to make sense of things
in my head, where maybe other people
might be sketching or something like that.
But I'm really thinking about how
I can envision a certain set of ideas being communicated.
I also think a lot about how the work communicates
to non artists.
And I think that that influences a lot of the work
that I make as well.
So a lot of sitting around and doing nothing for a long time
before I start to see some of the things come together.
I also usually like to do a kind of--
I guess what you would maybe think of as a mind map,
and start to group some of and ideas and materials together
on paper, and then start to see how that might move things
forward.
Once I get into production, it's usually really fast.
And that's because I have spent so much time already thinking
about what it is I want to say, and what materials I
want to use.
Thinking about materials, a question
from Kimberly in the chat.
Do you have an overall media preference,
or process that has been your favorite to work with?
I do love sculpture.
I didn't show any sculpture really in this presentation.
I think that part of that is just using your hands,
and building.
And I do love that.
But I don't think I have a preference necessarily.
A lot of the projects include a variety of media.
And so I'm able to kind of pick and choose things
that I think are communicating the message.
More recently, I've been working with printmaking, which I enjoy
the process of printmaking.
But I also think some of that had to do with the fact
that there was a period of time where I
didn't have an artist's studio.
And so I was working, and went to work at a print shop.
And so that kind of influenced the work
that I was making, because I had access to a print shop.
So yeah.
I mean, I tend to enjoy all of the things that I work with.
And for every project, to kind of just--
I really think about what is it that the project--
just going back to the KSMoCA that
had multiple interactive qualities.
It started out with the broom.
I knew I wanted to include the broom because the students were
so drawn to it, and they wanted to include the broom.
And then so much of what we were doing we were just talking.
Me and the youth were just having conversations about art,
about different cultural healing practices, and superstitions,
and different things.
And so I knew that there had to be
a sort of storytelling element.
And so language just became like the way to do that.
And so then that led to printmaking.
And so I really just kind of try to go back
to the original idea, and see what serves it.
So you talked about the value of research in your practice
as sort of like the early stages, right, so research,
experimentation, which all requires time, right.
Can you talk about--
I mean, you've had some really amazing residencies.
Can you talk about how residencies
fit into your practice, and that research phase potentially?
I have had the opportunity to have
some pretty cool residencies.
I would say, it took me some time
to figure out how to use residencies to my advantage.
The first couple of residencies I went on I
over-packed and brought all these materials,
and had all these ideas, and thought
I was going to make a certain set of things.
And then I realized now, and unless I
have like a project or a deadline I'm working on,
I usually don't bring that much anymore.
And really, it for me, is about the place that I'm going to,
and really like being open and listening to that space,
and seeing if there's any crossover into the things I'm
already interested in, or thinking about.
And it allows me the time to kind of see
that work, or those ideas from a different perspective.
And so I think that that's one of the main ways
that the residences have functioned for me.
And then I think about the location itself
and what it has to offer.
So the last residency I did was in February of last year.
I went to Brighton, England actually,
and shot a lot of footage of the water there.
My studio was actually on a large barge
that was kind of parked in the dock there.
And so I knew that residency was going to be very like water
centered.
And so I was thinking about that.
And I shot a lot of footage, and I wasn't sure
what I was going to do with it.
But it keeps creeping up in these different ways.
And so I do revisit some of that.
When I did the residency in Joshua Tree at AZ West,
you know, I'm familiar with the desert,
because I grew up there.
That site is not far from where I grew up.
And you know, I knew that the sun
was going to be one of the elements that was just
going to be beating down on us.
And so I took a lot of materials where
I could make cyanotype prints, similar to the ones behind me
here, and using the sun to develop these really
archaic kind of photography prints while I was out there.
And so yeah, I'll usually bring like one kind of element,
or let's think about one element that place has to offer,
the landscape has to offer.
And kind of have that in my back pocket,
but really use the time and space to think about
what's there, and how that place can make me
think about my ideas differently.
And then of course, connection to other people.
I mean, that's a huge part of residences
as well is making connections with the other residents,
with the people who are running the place, and all of that.
Is there anything that you're reading,
watching, looking at, artists work who is really inspiring
you?
Like, what's inspiring you, and sort
of getting you through this difficult pandemic world we
live in?
I've been reading a lot of Ocean Vuong's work, a poet.
It's quite sad.
But I do enjoy reading his work.
I'm trying to get back into writing.
So I think that a lot of what I'm reading
is poetry right now.
Tommy Pico's work also is really great.
And then yeah, I mean, I just listen to a lot of music also.
And so that also helps me kind of get through things,
and try to get moving a little bit in the studio.
We had another question pop up in the chat from Matt,
in the chat.
How has living in the Pacific Northwest influenced your work?
I'm sure it's influenced my work a ton.
One of their early opportunities I got for a residency
was to go to Utah for the Center for Land Use Interpretation.
And you know, growing up, I always
wanted to just like leave the desert.
And it was just such a rural like wasteland to me
in my mind, like, growing up there.
And when I did that residency, it
was a different type of desert.
It was very harsh, and it's in the middle of nowhere.
And I gained a new appreciation for the desert.
And so I guess the more time I spend away
from the place I grew up, the more appreciation
I have for the landscape itself when I go visit.
I find myself like taking photos of the epic sunsets there,
or what have you.
There's just so much to appreciate
that I didn't see growing up an angsty kid there when I was.
Where you grew up it stays with you, doesn't it?
Yes.
Well, huge thanks to you, Jodie, for your generosity today.
It was great to see a little bit of your practice.
And we appreciate your time and energy.
So thanks so much.
And thanks to all of you who spent a little bit
of your afternoon with us.
We appreciate you.
Thanks, everybody.
And we hope you take good care, and we'll see you next time.
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