Kate Greenwell

Contemplative Constructions

When disassembling and borrowing marks to use in a new manner, I am not the artist but the assembler. I take one draftsman’s symbol and pluck it from its intended vista, not because of its meaning or use but because of its value as a form. To a mapmaker, their marks are a quintessentially ordinary image, the everyday occurrence, a sleight of hand to paper. An interesting thing happens when you take that image and place it under a new rule. If I am to combine it with a canvas its loyalty is no longer to direction but now to aestheticization.

Ryn Hambrick

Maddie Benefield

My mental space is the universe where all aspects of myself that are difficult to express reside; my hand is the bridge between these fragments, such as my intentions, associations, anxiety, and more, and the physical realm. I am in a constant chokehold held by the expectation and judgment built by not only society, but also my own self deprivation of acceptance. My practice focuses on this universe and finds ways to present these aspects of myself in a comforting sense instead of one plagued by doubt. I choose to do this by relying on instinct and allowing my materials to flourish in a way that feels right to me.

The materials are configured to be characters that are expressed as beings that reside in the universe that is my mental space. These collages are representational as figments of myself from this world I am bringing to life, accompanied by paintings that are glimpses into the realms in which these characters exist. With every instinctive action and material that is used, such as braiding or bleaching, I am creating a deeper personal connection to these processes of making the work. The transmutation of myself to the materials is a delicate connection — one that I do not intend to be recognizable beyond my mind, but one that is imperative to be seen.

Eli Lander

Manny Martin

The Host

The Host explores impressions of our modern world concerning technology's increasing role. This relationship is not entirely neutral. My work inspects the binaries of human/animal, animate/inanimate, organic/inorganic, and humans and technology and how they merge or push against each other. What might our future look like if we become posthuman or move beyond the human? Humans are mortal, impractical, and flawed. This ever-increasing technology is quite the opposite. It can become immortal, never-ending, and has the highest intelligence capabilities. Technology is perfection, and evolution longs for this. What does this mean for humans? What if the human race is no longer needed? We are inherently biased which makes us disposable. If our future belongs to technology, it could mean we are the last generation of humans to walk this planet.

The Host translates these scenarios into reality. I do this in a particularly human way by using the act of assemblage as a human expression. There is an evolution within these found materials from their original form to a reimagined existence. Similar to the framework of posthumanism, my materials interact, mix, push against, or become one another. As The Host engages with hybridity, symbiosis, and parasitic relationships, it invites us to contemplate our speculative future.

Zoe Rye

My Father’s Daughter

When my grandmother passed, I was left a box of old photo albums. I looked at the old pictures for an entire afternoon, struck by the glowing innocence that emanated from them. The photos wallowed with warm light and smiles from the figures within them. One figure in particular caught my eye–a young boy with crowded teeth and a goofy grin. He had an essence about him, like you knew he was up to no good but couldn’t help but let his antics slide. He looked happy, bright. A promising young man. What changed since then?

This body of work examines concepts of addiction, memory, and generational trauma. I am interested in the ways past experiences and actions shape a person’s present behaviors. I am particularly interested in the way the human brain interprets and obscures memories, specifically through the lens of addiction. My Father’s Daughter acts as a tool for reckoning with these accumulated memories, specifically exploring my inability to understand the emotions and inherited traumas I have towards addiction. I am inquiring: is there an exact, pin-point moment when the little boy in the picture changed from innocent to addict? Is it too late for me?

Nico Wilcher

Emma Womble


This work is a mix of collage fabric with no borders, no parameters, no structures, working from outside in, using every inch of gathered materials to create something new. With various materials such as: burlap, yarn, canvas, and miscellaneous scrap fabric. Texture is a main formal element, I do not want my paintings to be dull, flat, plain, or boring; they need the substance to hold something real. The rawness of the unconventional substrate brings insight to how these materials interact and conflict with others when combined. It displays how destruction is just as important as creation in my work.

The reconfiguration of form is a pronounced idea I present in this work from the obsessive layering techniques. Layering helps me bring out the obscure as a personal desire of form. It led me to an open ended way of working vigorously to make odd, abnormal formal arrangements.