If the Shoe Fits

June 21, 2019

Willie Cole’s shoe sculptures are like warped, grinning Rubik’s cubes, complex goblins that feel like guardians of a wizardly secret—a password lies on the tips of their tongues, one that could open a gateway to a fabulous realm or, conversely, a trapdoor to a chamber deep below the gallery floor, where they keep curious gawkers who ask too many questions.

To complement and enhance the gargoyles are pictures where the masks become the faces on elegantly posed women, as well as a splaying round wall sculpture exposing only the soles of the feet—a medallion that feels like the aforementioned gateway. In the opening of the show is a brilliant figurative bronze sculpture whose basic forms are high heel shoes, but whose composite effect is that of a partly graceful, partly leering, partly animalistic female form—a fantasy that high heels have always made it their business to promote.

Interview by John Martin Tilley

office caught up with the artist to discuss the wondrous possibilities of footwear, art, and puzzles.

Tell me about your work.

My work in general, since about 1989 or 90, has been about taking objects that clearly from Western culture and recasting them in a tribal narrative, often with things that look African art, but because of the idea of tribal, they start to look like other cultures as well, especially Mexico and Asia. In my mind or the back of my imagination I proceed as if I’m trying to extract the spirit from the original object, so I don’t work with a sketch or a plan, I just play with them for hours until something emerges. So in the case of the shoe masks, I feel that each shoe had the personality and the history of the person who wore them—they’re all used shoes, gently used I should say—and they kind of make their own personality, I just have to remain open to that and put them together.

Another aspect of that same work is that I’m very interested in making work that looks like they come from the past, the present, and the future—I call that collapsed time, where everything comes into a single point called the now. And that makes them look very futuristic, but they might be put together in such a way that reflects a more ancient tradition. I’m also interested in multiplying objects, so I do a lot of work with water bottles, which is the probably the most exact on my formula for analysis—I take a single water bottle and multiply it, so now it’s a thousand or three thousand water bottles, and it becomes something else. In that case, I tell myself that I’m doing what nature does by taking a single molecule and multiplying it to make something completely new.

I didn’t even think of it as being tribal, but now that you say that it makes sense. I just saw the shoe faces and thought they were silly and refreshing.

Yeah, they just popped out. In the front of the gallery, I have a bronze, full-bodied figure. I think of them all as female because the shoes were females, so there’s a female energy that I’m extracting from these objects.

Above: 'Eye Candy' and 'Black Panther'.

Yeah, it’s amazing what you were able to create—it doesn’t seem forced at all, either. Did you set out to make faces or a body, or is that just how it ended up? That’s just what the shoes spoke to you?

In the beginning of the process, back in the late 80s or 90s I had a show in Philadelphia, and I wanted to make a bodysuit—my friend had given my five pairs of his sneakers and I needed so many more to cover the entire bodysuit, these were high-top, quality sneakers, I wanted the wearer to bounce up and down and see the shoes kick. So I went to a thrift store and I saw the high-heeled shoes. So, right away I switched from sneakers to high heels. I didn’t know what I was going to make with them, but I knew they had great potential because they had great color, they had great shape, great history, great symbolism. I collected probably around 100 pairs at that time, and I played with them for about a month or two before I was able to recognize that the stiletto heel could be like a fang. And that led to the face aspect of it.

Now, at that time I made a chair out of high-heeled shoes because of Imelda Marcos, she had so many shoes, she was the wife of the President of the Philippines, so I made a throne for Imelda out of high-heeled shoes. And I made two faces, not masks for the wall but free-standing faces, and then many years went by, but in 2005 I received a fellowship at the University of Georgia—I was on campus for four years, they gave me a stipend, etc, but I didn’t take any art supplies with me, not even paintbrushes. So while sitting at my empty studio there, I said, ‘Maybe I’ll take up the shoes again.’ So I went to the local thrift store and told them that I wanted to make things out of shoes and that I would buy every shoe they had for fifty cents a pound, and they gave me like a million shoes, and the University of Georgia paid for them all at fifty cents a pound. So I continued with the shoes in 2005 with no real intention in mind. By the time this show came along, I knew I could make faces out of shoes—so I intended to make faces, I just didn’t know what the faces would look like.

I would go into my studio and be confronted by rows and rows and tables and table of shoes, and I don’t know what my intention is going to be, but I know I’m going to be there for three hours playing with the shoes. And some shoes suggest, perhaps a very long heal or a platform shoe might suggest a body, where as a pump might suggest a nose or an ear. So I let the shoes lead me to the final result.

It’s interesting that it started out as sneakers and became high heels, because I feel like right now a lot of people who used to wear high heels are now wearing sneakers instead. You said the high heel has a lot of symbolism and power, what do you think those are?

The high heel for some women becomes a power shoe. This morning, I was at my fiancé’s house and she gets up to go to work and I could hear her shoes coming down the hallway. It’s almost like the drum announcing the coming of the king or queen. Even today with her colleagues it’s like she can say she’s high because she’s wearing the high-heeled shoes. Those are some of the more positive symbolisms of the high-heeled shoe, but it also has the opposite suggestions as well. It could inhibit one’s ability to run. And nowadays, with the branding and the depending on the maker of the shoe, it becomes a status symbol related to economics, like, ‘Oh, she’s wearing Jimmy Choo,’ or whatever. And the designers sometimes do things to the shoes to suggest power or domination.

Above: 'Happy' and 'Street Dragon'.

Do you think you’re playing into that with your tribal faces?

Well I’m letting the shoe lead me. If the shoe is pointing that way, I go that way. I’m pulling out the spirit of the shoe, or the wearer of the shoe. I’m not really dictating anything. When I was a kid, I played with Erector Sets and Tinkertoys and things you put together, and these were essentially the same thing—it’s like a puzzle but the box has no picture on it. I know there’s something in there, so I’m just looking for what that is.

I can feel that from the sculptures. They look like puzzles almost.

Yeah, I really move them around until they fit perfectly on their own. I don’t cut them or change them in any way. So if two fit together and suggest something, I go with that. I work on several at once, so I’m able to just move around the room and if it doesn’t fit here, okay, move on to the next one. Another thing that attracted me to shoes, was in high school my major was fashion design, so that helped me to appreciate the beauty of the shoes as well.

Above: 'Woman In Heels' and 'Sole Flower'.

It’s funny about shoes too, because they’re definitely fabulous but of the articles of clothing that you wear they’re kind of the grossest. That’s the thing about shoes.

The good thing is that women will buy shoes and wear them twice with an outfit, and then not wear them a lot. So when I went to buy shoes, I looked for the ones that had been worn the least. I live in New Jersey, and my local thrift store gets new shoes from one of the chain stores that gives them to the thrift store—so I was able to buy a lot of new shoes as well for a really low price.

But they are the foundation. They’re close to the Earth. And they have memory. I can see the shoe take the shape of the foot that’s in it sometimes. So all those things are feeding my choices. Also, I’m not the first artist to use the shoe. Dalí made a hat out of a shoe. It’s almost like a readymade with a history. I make a lot of pieces out of steam irons, and Man Ray did the famous piece with the flatiron.

'Bella Figura' is on view at Alexander and Bonin through June 22nd, 2019. All images courtesy the gallery. Lead image: 'Ashley Bikerton'.

Art

Pamela Sneed’s Speaking Tongue opens at Dashwood Projects

November 15, 2024

Pamela Sneed’s latest exhibition, Speaking Tongue, will be on view at Dashwood Projects from November 20 to December 21. The show features twenty watercolor and ink paintings inspired by her recent trip to Kenya, where she was deeply moved by the elegance of giraffes, the landscapes, and the energy of Nairobi.

Blending her background as a poet and visual artist, Sneed’s work reflects on themes of identity, nature, and connection. Her paintings capture the beauty and spirit of the animals she encountered, alongside reflections on her own experiences as part of the African diaspora.

This exhibition marks Sneed’s first solo show with Dashwood Projects and will be accompanied by a new book, also titled Speaking Tongue, to be released in December.

By Enzo Holdt
Artworks by Pamela Sneed

Art

Tiebreaker - Alvin Armstrong

November 15, 2024

There is a moment of silence right before the play. Just before the racket strikes the ball as it hangs weightless in the air, breathless and charged. It’s the fleeting yet decisive instant that can alter the course of the match, determining who wins and who loses.

Alvin Armstrong depicts this crucial moment in his new exhibition Tiebreaker, symbolizing the risks and rewards of competition. It’s an implication of something else at stake, where athletes push not only their bodies, but their spirits to the absolute limit.

The dynamic figures embody the strength, grace, and agility juxtaposed by the vibrant color palette evoking not just the joy of competition but the charged energy of the court.

Tiebreaker is opening Thursday, November 16th at Anna Zorina Gallery.

By Rea Brayshaw
Artworks by Alvin Armstrong

Art

The Things People Are Ashamed To Take Photos Of: The Photography and Films of Yuhan Cheng

Yuhan’s latest exhibition of photo and video work titled 窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里 takes its namesake from what could’ve been a mundane encounter. A month after moving to New York City from Chengdu, China, they stumbled across an abandoned fish tank left curbside. It reminded them of “the rotating fish in a tank that faded into the background of their mother’s home in Chengdu”, a thread connecting childhood familiarity that transformed into a symbol of greater significance in adulthood. A tank is a world within a world; a microcosm secluded from the broader chaos of the outside. Since then Yuhan has captured the other kinds of “fish tanks” closest to them in their photography and short films. Not literal ones necessarily– but intimate confined spaces in Chengdu and NYC where time stands still.

In the midst of taking snapshots of loved ones, Yuhan decided to turn their tender but examining lens on themselves. They realized shooting self-portraits unraveled a deeper understanding of their own nonbinary gender and queer sexuality. Yuhan admits in one of their short films “I hide from looking at my own body.” Yet, in the seclusion of their room which doubles as a dark room, Yuhan began to develop their first nude photos chronicling the subtle wounds; bitten cuticles, bruises, and scrapes they’ve accumulated involuntarily, once again documenting the things people choose to hide.

窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里, debuted at FAR-NEAR Studio Hours a gallery in Chinatown focused on expanding the art world's view of Asia and Asian artists curated by Lulu Yao Gioiello. The event merged Yuhan’s works from the past three years, including 70 photographs, three short documentaries, and one installation. There was something uncanny about the gallery’s atmosphere – from the dollar store teal green curtains obscuring every window to the clusters of framed photos mimicking how photos of relatives are displayed in one’s childhood home, to the darkened lighting that was both disorienting and cozy. All these details were meticulously chosen to imitate the rooms depicted in Yuhan’s films and photography. In other words, the audience was invited to Yuhan’s “fishtank”, to share the odd balance of comfort and unease of being known intimately. We talked to Yuhan at Cafe Reggio to understand how their latest body of work came into being.

Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity.

Ora Margolis— Were any memories/childhood experiences you had in Chengdu important to how you've developed as an artist?

Yuhan Cheng— Growing up in Chengdu, especially in a military household, shaped and gave me a source of contention how I understood my identity. There was always a sense of conflict when it came to my body and feeling like I didn’t quite fit the expectations around me. This tension has been a driving force in my practice, pushing me to explore identity and belonging in my work.

Tell us a bit about your latest exhibition Outside the Window, Inside the Tank at Far. What headspace were you in when taking these photos?

YC— Outside the Window, Inside the Tank is about the fluidity of self; our bodies, our environments, and our identities. The idea of water as both a symbol of confinement and freedom is central to the photos and film that comprise the exhibit. This fluidity much like how I see my experience moving between Chengdu and New York, where similar feelings follow me no matter where I am. Water mirrors the body, the frame, and the room, which are all containers of the self.

Previously, you’ve said you wanted the exhibition space to look "like your room". How did you make that happen and why is your NYC room important to you?

YC— My room in NYC is an extension of my identity. It’s where I feel vulnerable and where I explore myself most openly. It’s a manifestation of my sense of self. I recreated certain elements in the exhibition—the green sheer curtains, the dollar store shower curtain with bubbles, and the center installation depicted a self-portrait deteriorating in water, reminiscent of a fish in a tank. This room, like any other room or container, magnifies the tension of self-exploration.

Has your idea or comfort with your gender identity and /sexuality changed since you’ve delved into photography?

YC— Yes. The process of photography and filming has been a mirror to my own understanding of self. Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity. The process of photographing my queer friends and then myself allowed me to come to terms with who I am.

How did you and Lulu Yao of FAR-NEAR Studio meet, and what makes her a good collaborator?

YC— We first connected when I reached out with my series Princess of Funan River. Lulu understood the struggles and complexities in the work and she invited me to expand on those ideas with her. Our collaboration has worked because Lulu truly resonates with the themes I’m drawn to, like fluidity, transformation, and the intimacy of navigating belonging.

After completing Fish Tank and Remnants of an Amateur Film, what kind of movie do you want to make next?

YC— Right now, I’m more focused on writing. I need to understand what I want to say before making another film. Writing helps me find clarity;it’s a crucial part of my process.

What kind of camera do you use and why?

YC— I use a Canon AE-1. I started with it and I still love it. It's small, spontaneous, easy to use, and light. It allows me to capture moments naturally without overthinking.

What's your biggest fear?

YC— Being disconnected from my sense of self, from others, and from the things I love.

When do you feel most like yourself?

YC— It’s during those fleeting moments when I complete a project. That feeling fades quickly, leaving me searching for the next project to reconnect with that sense of fulfillment.

How do you want people to feel when they interact with your art?

YC— I want them to feel whatever resonates with them. I don’t want to prescribe the experience; it should feel right for each person.

Your work focuses on the close knit communities that surround you or various metaphorical “fish tanks”. What communities do you feel closest to?
YC— The queer artist community, both in Chengdu and NYC, has been a source of comfort and understanding for me. There’s something about shared struggles and shared creative language that feels like home.

What's the biggest difference between living life as a queer artist in NYC and in Chengdu?

YC— In both NYC and Chengdu, I’m learning more about myself. NYC offers a sense of freedom, while Chengdu is home, a place of comfort and history. Neither place defines me but both are significant parts of my path.

What are your next moves/goals?

YC— I want to continue exploring both film and photography, expanding my narrative style and experimenting across mediums. During my show, I found new ways of seeing my photographs such as by adding a window screen between frames or letting a self-portrait fade and grow mold in water. These approaches allowed me to see my work not just as 2D images but as 3D objects.

I want to keep pushing the boundaries of how photo and film can interact, and I’m also interested in trying photojournalism. My focus remains on collaborating across mediums and continuing to accumulate experiences that I can translate into sincere honest work.