NinaJohnson

How diaristic is your work?

My work is steeped in ancient history. I always say I look backward to move forward. Basketry is 34,000 years old; it evolved alongside human beings. There’s a point in time where craft became gendered: the Bronze Age marked the beginning of agriculture and a new kind of domination. Weaving started to become women’s work because women could do it at home while men worked in the fields.

I ran a textile company for almost 12 years, and my undergrad was in sculpture and fiber. I went to grad school to move away from weaving, but when I got there, I started deeply researching the history of weaving, not even meaning to. I was intrigued by the division between male and female roles thousands of years ago and how it set a trajectory for human culture moving forward.

I thought it was interesting that the new works are called Grotesque Flowers. There is something about body horror in there. Baskets usually keep things contained and yours pour out their guts.

Yes, absolutely. When you think of a basket, you think of utility. You think of Easter or bread baskets or Jane Birkin. I want to flip all that around. There’s this theory of human evolution that the animal stomach was the first vessel, and then the basket was the next vessel. I like pulling the basket away from that history of containers and showing what’s inward outward.

With this particular series, I was in the midst of all these ultrasounds and tests and I was thinking about just how gross the whole process has been. We talk about the womb as if it’s a flower—I’m thinking about Judy Chicago and Georgia O’Keeffe. Nobody wants to talk about the abject, and we should be. I want to present it in a way that’s palatable but also not palatable. I want to make work about what’s happening to women and our bodies. It’s been a precarious time—the overturning of Roe v. Wade. Who knows who is going to become president and what that’s going to do for human rights. These are all things that I’m thinking about, and it’s coming out in the work. I want to talk about gender. I want to talk about sex. I want to talk about bodies. Because at the end of the day, we’re all human beings and experiencing the world through this meat sack.

What about the ceramic elements?

The ceramics serve a couple of functions. They anchor the basket so it doesn’t just collapse, but they also serve a hierarchical function. Normally, ceramics are taken more seriously than weaving and textiles, but in this context, it’s the weaving that’s the focal point. I always want the ceramics to be secondary to the weaving. I want it to be what holds it down so that it can do its weirdo thing.

Does that apply to individual pieces? Do you rework the same sculpture again and again?

Yes, the material has a memory, and it will dry in the shape you put it in, but you can always dunk it or spray it down and re-manipulate it, which is really forgiving. Sometimes I’ll get something totally finished and not like where it’s going, so I’ll dunk it and move it in a way that feels better. That’s a really fun part about it; you aren’t married to a specific form—you can constantly reshape and evolve it.