Ninu Nina Artist Interviews

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PATRICIA CARR MORGAN

My childhood was spent in a small town in southern Missouri. My siblings and I were "raised by a village," which left our parents free from worry and gave us the freedom to play imaginary games, roam, and explore the countryside on our bikes. Our curiosity was encouraged, and we grew up wanting to explore the world. That same curiosity would eventually lead to my current work based on trips to Antarctica and Greenland. 

Your greatest inspirations or influences?

While college studio work helped me learn how to express my ideas, art history professors taught me about art and its relevance in the world. In the 15th Century, Brancacci painted Christ directing payment of Florence's newly instituted tax. Another panel was to help the Pope solicit more donations. It portrays Christ asking that a tithe be given to the apostles to distribute to the poor. Jumping a few centuries forward, Kienholtz chose objects from the world he lived in and built installations addressing women's issues, loneliness, teenage sex, and aging. Duchamp taught us all that anything could be used to make art and could be art. Colombian artist Doris Salcedo is a contemporary artist that will always be an inspiration.

Tell us a bit about your creative process? 

It is about the personal /universal. I begin with a concept, and then I work on the "how," using materials that are in keeping with my idea. Reality is a Good Likeness, for instance, is inspired by details I learned as an adult about an accident that altered my childhood memories. This experience led to examining what we believe is real, and I approached film as a composite of many parts put together to create a new, enveloping reality. I interjected myself and objects into the film frame, breaking the narrative and offering a new trajectory. This universal experience of our ongoing collection of information spawned three series dealing with constructs of reality. 

I love you don't leave me is also a personal / universal concept. I have been concerned about global warming for a long time but had not found a way to express it in my work until I went to Antarctica. Like many, I was overwhelmed by its sublime vastness. To know it better, I began photographing not only its majesty, its beautiful blues, but also the details of cracks and traces of captured moraine. Coming home and printing my photographs was like getting to know a new friend. I later traveled to Greenland to photograph more ice. I did more thinking, reading, and began experimenting with inks, paper, carbon pigments, and coal. Knowing the glaciers were melting, I started looking for a way to express the depths of sorrow I felt and began experimenting with materials to use in an installation. These experiments lead to Blue Tears, constructed of silk organza from the climate-challenged silkworm. 

Now, imagining the dystopian path of the Anthropocene, I'm continuing to explore the continued diminution of polar ice.  

How has this year changed your creativity or how you see the world changing moving forward?

The pandemic, coupled with catastrophic natural disasters, has made this a tumultuous year for everyone on our planet. Many nations worked together to combat the pandemic, and I expect this cooperation will continue as we strive to reduce our carbon footprint.  Fortunately, I was able to shelter in safety, and my creative process didn't change, but I needed to find new ways to focus and continue working. This year I look forward to completing my photo-based series Sublimation, and Blue Tears traveling the country. 

Do you think the art world needs to change, and if so how can it be improved?

The art world is changing as museums become more inclusive in their choice of artists to exhibit,  programs, and family days. Hopefully, this outreach will create broader community interest and encourage small galleries to reopen. These galleries add accessibility to new affordable art, give people a chance to see local art, and meet the artists—all this adds vibrancy to the community. The pandemic has caused many small galleries to close, and, hopefully, they will be revived in the next year.  

What does well-being mean to you? 

Not losing the path that leads to one's inner peace.

You’ve been creating conceptual and installation-based work for decades now. How have you seen your work evolve over time? 

My earlier projects developed a single concept, and in only one instance I did a subsequent one exploring the same idea. My more recent works like I love you don't leave me and Reality is a Good Likeness delve more deeply into the original idea and encompass several aspects of the original concept. While I have frequently incorporated photography into my work for several years now, photography has been the primary medium I use. Working on I love you don't leave me, I spent a lot of time experimenting with different effects and materials to use, and it is all photo-based.

What do you love most about glaciers? 

I have found comfort in my insignificance sitting in Yosemite Valley at the foot of Half Dome, thinking of the powerful glaciers that had carved it. Arriving in Antarctica, I saw the stillness of glaciers' imperceptible journey toward the sea, carrying the history of Earth hidden in their depths. Their vast whiteness is sublime, dangerous, and seductive, and I wanted to see more. It was heartfelt. It is what prompted I love you, don't leave me.

How can art influence personal and / or political action on climate change?

People who saw Blue Tears exhibit at the Tucson Museum of Art experienced beauty and sorrow as the glacial images printed on fragile silk organza panels floated down into undulating blue panels on the floor. The viewers have become more aware of the losses we are incurring and hopefully will be more willing to conserve and support political change. When school children came through the museum, it was the first time some of them had ever heard of global warming. I love you don't leave me is a non-threatening way to inform because it is not about the politics of climate change but rather its emotional reality.