Dec 7

Dec 7 Catherine Czacki on Art, Community, and Sulala Animal Rescue

Art, Creative People, Culture, Interviews

Catherine Czacki blends conceptual art with craft to challenge the hierarchical structures of the art world. With a background spanning painting, New Genres, and an interdisciplinary Ph.D. in Art History and Art Practice, Czacki’s approach is deeply rooted in personal history, cultural critique, and an unwavering belief in the power of making. Her commitment to activism is equally integral to her practice. Recently, she organized an art auction benefiting Sulala Animal Rescue, inspired by the group’s efforts to protect both human and non-human life.

Czacki’s philosophy was shaped by her family’s culture of creativity, particularly her uncle, a farmer whose improvisational repairs and her aunt's dandelion wine-making as profound art forms. His ethos—"just do right by the land and animals"—and his communal spirit influenced Czacki’s view of art as inseparable from daily life. Similarly, her aunt’s and mother’s quilting and sewing reinforced her belief that artistry often exists beyond the confines of galleries and institutions.

This grounding led Czacki to question the value systems in art: "Many people have stories of makers in their families, not canonized as artists but who are artists nonetheless," she reflects. By acknowledging these overlooked creators, Czacki bridges the divide between the everyday and the celebrated, revealing how art, craft, and life are interwoven.

Blurring the Lines Between Craft and Concept

As an artist, Czacki moves between mediums, including painting, ceramics, metalwork, writing, and sound. Her intuitive approach to materials allows her to explore ideas without being constrained by a singular style. “Drawing, sewing, or playing flute becomes meditative,” she says, “then folds back into intellectual ideas.” For Czacki, art is less about rigid categories and more about the resonances that emerge when disciplines and practices collide.

This philosophy stems from her art education, where she encountered both the aesthetic formalism of painting and the anti-establishment ethos of New Genres. Despite their differences, both schools of thought, she realized, perpetuated hierarchies—between intellect and craft, between the canonical and the everyday. These insights fueled her desire to dismantle these hierarchies, arguing that "quilting and ceramics are just as valid as history painting."

Challenging the Canon and Its Legacies

Czacki is unflinching in her critique of the art historical canon, tracing its roots to power structures that prioritize wealth and domination. From Vasari’s Renaissance validation projects to the racist and misogynistic underpinnings of Kantian aesthetics, she exposes the ideological biases that still shape contemporary art. Yet, Czacki also sees opportunities for resistance within these systems. “Touching things with my hands, in defiance of what kings want me to produce, might be a powerful way to make a statement,” she says. Her work embodies this defiance, rejecting the metrics of fame and wealth in favor of smaller, community-focused art worlds.

Q & A with Catherine

Your poetry and academic writing often intersect with your artistic practice. How do these mediums complement or challenge each other?

I began writing poetry as an escape hatch from academic and argumentative writing. It was also inspired by reading Audre Lorde, Aimé Césaire, Anne Boyer, and Etel Adnan, who showed me how language could be an enchanted thing—a form of resistance, not just a tool to wield power or win arguments. My book of poems, Creosote, was published around the time I completed my PhD dissertation. It was a personal outlet to describe what inspires my work as an artist.

In Creosote, I explored ideas like the history of Western taxonomy as a runaway train that categorized living beings in limiting ways. The book stemmed from a desire to free our relationships from these confines. Teaching Art History further inspired this work—discovering that written language evolved for different purposes across cultures fascinated me. For example, Chinese bone carvings were poetic and honorific, celebrating material life, whereas Greek stamps counted goods like grain, emphasizing control.

This idea—that technology and systems are defined by how they’re used—resonates deeply with me. Poetry describes experiences and materials that intersect with my art objects. It challenges the academic need to validate systems and instead opens the door to critique and expansive thinking.

Your list of favorite artists spans a diverse range of practices and styles. How have these artists influenced your work?

My current inspirations include Noah Purifoy, Etel Adnan, Mai-Thu Perret, Cecilia Vicuña, Jean Siméon Chardin, Magdalena Suarez Frimkess, Méret Oppenheim, Hilma af Klint, and Paulus Berensohn. Their work resonates with me in countless ways—sometimes it provides clarity when I feel lost, or it addresses struggles I’m working through in my own practice.

For instance, Paulus Berensohn’s book Finding One’s Way with Clay became a vital teaching tool. It celebrates intimacy with materials and small-scale creation, concepts I deeply connect with. These artists remind me of the importance of exploring and rethinking what art can be.

Are there any recent artists, movements, or cultural phenomena that inspire you, or that you feel very connected to?

I’m often more drawn to individual artists than movements. Learning that Seurat was an anarchist or discovering the history of women making still life painting before men excites me. I’m also inspired by the idea that art in many non-Western cultures was integral to daily life, accessible to many, and often undervalued in Western art history.

During my PhD, I became acutely aware of how Art History as a discipline was designed to validate a narrow worldview. This pushed me toward exploring ceramics, textiles, personal jewelry, and other forms historically marginalized in the canon. Today, contemporary artists continue to challenge these categories, reflecting and questioning the struggles of everyday life.

Your performances with the Llano Estacado Monad Band involved using sculptures as instruments. How does your work in music inform your visual art and vice versa?

While I no longer perform with LEMB, I now collaborate with Gretchen Korsmo in a duo project called key q. We make instruments and record sounds from daily tasks—like tiling a floor or mixing compost—blurring the lines between music, life, and art.

In recent exhibitions, I’ve included soundtracks alongside my visual works. Sound expands the experience of my art, engaging different senses and rhythms. For me, creating music rekindled a sense of play and offered a new way to explore time and sensation. It’s a natural extension of how I arrange my objects, as constellations that form an interconnected cosmos.

Tell us about your fundraiser for Sulala Animal Rescue. How did this project come about, and who are some of the artists involved?

The auction for Sulala Animal Rescue was inspired by personal and global narratives. A story from my father about my grandfather’s reputation as a horse healer influenced my ceramic piece At At At At, which is featured in the auction. For the fundraiser, I wanted to use my practice to support something meaningful. Sulala Animal Rescue works under extremely difficult conditions in Gaza to care for animals, many of whom are injured or abandoned because of the ongoing genocide. I reached out to artists I admire, and they were incredibly generous in donating works to support the cause.

Collaborating with other artists for this cause felt like a way to channel frustration into action. The auction includes work from many talented artists whose generosity and creativity have been deeply inspiring.