Earlier this month, Sheree Hovsepian opened “Figure Ground,” her second solo exhibition at Uffner & Liu (formerly Rachel Uffner Gallery). The show features four distinct bodies of output—traditional silver gelatin photographs, ink-on-paper drawings, mixed media assemblages and bronze sculptures—and constitutes a major offering of new pieces from a celebrated artist whose work is held in the collections of the Art Institute of Chicago, the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum and the Studio Museum in Harlem, among other institutions. We recently caught up with Hovsepian to hear more about the show, which is up until June 21.
What can you tell our readers about the central ideas you’re exploring in this newest body of work?
I am navigating the complexities of identity and memory through the lens of embodiment, archival processes and the interplay of the indexical and the unknown. My work is deeply informed by the dichotomy of the body as an archive—where the physical exists distinct from the psyche—allowing me to explore the physicality of experience and primordial desire.
Your work often blends photography with materials like string, wood and fabric. How do you choose which materials to incorporate, and what draws you to these tactile elements?
I am drawn to photography’s indexical nature and its perception as a record of “truth” or “having been.” In my collages, I work with analog photography because I am inspired by the tactility of the photography process. The ceremony of the studio as a place to make the photographs, the romance of the black-and-white darkroom process and the feel of silver gelatin paper are all core to my practice.
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I love to work with my hands, which is mostly considered antithetical to photography. There is a transient state that I can tap into when my hands are busy and my mind is free to wander. The string becomes a form of mark-making and has a strong association with crafts and textile arts, which I used to do with my mother. There is a meditative quality that I am drawn to in working with the string.
Ceramic has an interesting tie with analog photography. Both take an impression and go through a chemical process, and there is a threat of failure.
You often work with quiet gestures—thread, texture, space—rather than overt narrative. Do you think of your work as a kind of visual language or poetry?
Absolutely. My hope is to create a visual language that lies somewhere between the indexical and the unknown.
I understand that this will be your first time showing traditional photographs on their own at the gallery. Can you speak about that decision, especially juxtaposed with these larger-scale sculptural works?
Photography serves as a central medium in my exploration, embodying an indexical nature that reflects a trace of the subject while simultaneously existing as an abstract entity. I think about photography as holding a duality as both a mirror and a portal, embodying a threshold of subject and object.
I also love to think about the relationship to time that the two mediums possess. Bronze casting is an ancient method to make sculptures known for its permanence and resistance to time. It invokes antiquity and a lineage of art-making. The photograph, on the other hand, captures a moment. It has a strong association with memory and mortality. It is an ephemeral medium that is literally and figuratively disappearing every day.
Are there themes or ideas that you feel translate better in your photographs than in your collage works or vice versa?
My work often feeds on itself, meaning I may have an idea for a photograph and then revisit that idea in another way. I believe this is why my work can exist through different mediums.
This exhibition also marks a significant shift towards larger-scale sculpture. How has your relationship with sculpture evolved, and what led you in this direction?
I was interested in making a sculpture that could represent my body in space. The size of these works is to create a stand-in for me within the gallery’s frame.
You’ve spoken about your Iranian heritage and feminist ideas influencing your work. How do these personal and political themes surface materially in your pieces, especially in such a precarious sociopolitical moment?
I think my work has more to do with my personal history as an Iranian immigrant growing up in the Midwest more than any idea of “Iranian-ness.” I think my focus on the body and the idea of documenting myself within space and archival legacy is because I was made to feel like an outsider growing up. I want to cement a place where I belong, where I am and have been. I think as an artist, the only thing I can do is talk about my own experience. “The personal is political,” as they say.
What questions are you asking yourself in the studio these days? Are there new directions or mediums you’re excited to explore?
I am going to spend two weeks in the fall at the Toledo Museum of Art Glass studio as part of an artist residency. This is incredibly exciting for me because I grew up in Toledo, and I feel like being there can be really inspiring for me. Also, I will be working with glass, which is a new material for me. I am excited to see what I can learn from working with glass about form, perception and vulnerability.
