Cut, Paste, & Beyond: Technique & Dreamscapes in Contemporary American Collage

CUT, PASTE, & BEYOND:

Technique & Dreamscapes in Contemporary American Collage

A “Public Spaces Art Series” Exhibition at the Chapel Hill Public Library coordinated by Chapel Hill Community Arts & Culture October - December 2024 Curated by Courtney Thomas

CONTENTS PAGE 2 Acknowledgements

PAGE 3 About the Exhibition

PAGE 7 Exhibition Checklist

PAGE 9 Collage by Craft Means: Technique, Material, Gesture, and (de)constructing Identity in Contemporary U.S. American Collage Art by Courtney Thomas

PAGE 16 Photo Credits

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS While curating and organizing Cut, Paste, & Beyond over the past year, I have been engaged in a process of research, writing, discovery, and collaboration. I have had the pleasures of both connecting with artists whose work I have long admired, and discovering the exciting work being done by artists whose work I encountered for the first time while developing this exhibition. Across months of email correspondence and studio visits, each of the artists represented in this show has been exceedingly generous with their time and resources.

This exhibition would not be possible without the cooperation of galleries including David B. Smith Gallery and Talley Dunn Gallery. I would also like to thank every member of the Chapel Hill Public Library and Chapel Hill Community Arts & Culture teams who supported this project, including Steve Wright, Ellie East, Carissa Kennedy, and Rachel Bass.

I am grateful to UNC faculty members JJ Bauer and Ron E. Bergquist for troubleshooting alongside me throughout this process and connecting me to funding, art storage, web hosting, and other resources. Your guidance and encouragement has pushed me to make this exhibition better at every turn. I would also like to thank UNC administrators Ryan Platin and Lori Haight for their roles in facilitating my interactions with University processes during this project.

In May 2024, I presented the ideas articulated in the catalog essay “Collage by Craft Means: Technique, Material, Gesture, and (de)constructing Identity in Contemporary U.S. American Collage” at the 13th Annual Art History Graduate Student Association Conference at University of California, Riverside. I am thankful for the opportunity to share the research behind this project and for the feedback I received from my colleagues at this conference.

Lastly, to the members of my personal community and support system, you are the foundation beneath all my scholarly and curatorial ventures, and make this work not only possible but more enjoyable at every turn.

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ABOUT THE EXHIBITION This exhibition, Cut, Paste & Beyond: Technique & Dreamscapes in Contemporary American Collage is based on a simple proposal. It is, on the one hand, a show featuring a small sample of collage works created in the United States during the last decade. On the other hand, like a collage, the exhibition is more than the sum of its parts. It is an initial investigation into how today’s artists continue to use and experiment with collage, a medium scholars have long associated with the 20th century.

In 1948, James Thrall Soby declared “there can be no real question as to the importance of collage in twentieth century art.”1 In 1983, Gregory Ulmer called collage “the single most revolutionary formal innovation in our century.”2 They, and other critics, observed that twentieth century artists working in many diverse styles (from Cubism and Dada, to Pop Art and Surrealism) were drawn to collage and found it to be “a particularly viable and flexible medium, as the century has progressed.” Critical evaluations of twentieth century collage linked the aesthetics and techniques of the medium to mass production and the fragmented subjectivity the manufacturing process engenders, as well as the ubiquity of brands, newspapers, advertising, scientific concepts of reality, and tensions between individual and collective thought. Today, in the United States, many of these forces are still at play, but over the decades, cultural thought about them has continued to develop, and new angles, including that of intersectionality have been folded into sensemaking practices. Still, however, contemporary artists turn to collage.

With the first quarter of the twenty-first century nearly elapsed, the time has come to look closely at the collage art of this century. Cut, Paste, and Beyond aims to identify connecting threads in the approaches and creations of select artists whose work brings the medium into the present. Attuned to identity, heritage, and sense of place, Justin Favela and Danielle Hatch assemble materials using craft practices. As concerns about waste, climate change, and the health of our planet grow, Mila Tsvetanova, Noah Scalin, and Natasha Bowdoin highlight the tension between the natural world and the artificial through contrasting organic forms and unnatural colors. John Felix Arnold’s manipulation of found materials alludes to the intersections of violence, monuments, movement, and the body in a historical and personal interrogation grounded by the use of thumb tacks (quotidian objects) and wood (a natural material). Natalie Schorr and Hatch challenge cultural attempts to define the role of women, and the aesthetics they should perform and embody, from beauty to caregiving, while Bowdoin,

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Arnold, and Hatch explore the sculptural, three-dimensional potential of wall-mounted collage.

This exhibition also takes place 100 years after the publication of André Breton’s famous “Surrealist Manifesto.” Cut, Paste, & Beyond joins the exhibitions staged across the globe this year that aim to re-contextualize this movement in art history by documenting how today’s artists are continuing to answer Breton’s call to explore the “omnipotence of dreams.” 3 The dreamscapes in Cut, Paste, & Beyond include (but are not limited to) works by Bowdoin and Schorr. Bowdoin’s Spring Study 1 (2017), as part of her 2017 exhibition Lunar Spring, was inspired by “magic realism and surrealism, including the short stories, ‘Distance of the Moon’ by Italo Calvino and Bruno Schulz’s ‘Spring.’” 4 The title of Schorr’s Exquisite Corpse 14 (2023) is a direct reference to the Exquisite Corpse game “adopted as a technique by artists of the Surrealist movement to generate collaborative compositions.”5 This work, and each of Schorr’s other works in the show engages the legacy of Surrealism by combining body parts, and other elements including fish fins, apparel, insect wings, and more to create distorted figures arranged alongside phrases assembled from found typography.

Cut, Paste, and Beyond offers an opportunity to reflect on artifice and layers. The contemporary collages on view point to the contradictions that exist in a contemporary American culture, including many tied to the natural environment, consumption practices, and gender roles. An abbreviated list of these contradictions could include hospitality v. violence, lushness v. danger, longevity v. consumption, and beauty v. branding. Ultimately, Cut, Paste, and Beyond argues through the timeliness and inventiveness of the works on display that contemporary American collage demands the critical attention afforded to the collage art of the last century and convenes a conversation between a selection of U.S.-based artists active in reinventing the medium for the 21st century.

1. Quoted in Katherine Hoffman, Collage: Critical Views (Ann Arbor, MI: UMI Research Press, 1989).

2. Ibid.

3. Nina Siegal, “Surrealism Is 100. the World’s Still Surreal.,” The New York Times, February 28, 2024, https://www.nytimes.com/2024/02/28/arts/design/surrealism-centennial-pompidou-brussels.html.

4. “Natasha Bowdoin,” Visual Arts Center of Richmond, accessed September 25, 2024, https://www.visarts.org/exhibition/natasha-bowdoin/.

5. “Exquisite Corpse | Moma,” MoMA, accessed September 25, 2024, https://www.moma.org/collection/terms/exquisite-corpse.

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EXHIBITION CHECKLIST Natalie Schorr

Noah Scalin

Nest Egg, 2022 Mixed media collage 24 x 18 x 2 in.

Courtesy of the artist.

of America: Ivory-billed Woodpecker, 2023 stickers & acrylic on panel 36 x 48 in.

Courtesy of the artist.

Exquisite Corpse #14 - The Unconventional Mermaid, 2023 Mixed media collage 12 x 12 x 2 in.

Courtesy of the artist.

Danielle Hatch Cozy Farmhouse, 2022 Mixed media fabric collage 13 x 13 in.

Courtesy of the artist.

Flying Creatures of the Fifth Day, 2024 Mixed media collage 12 x 12 x 2 in.

Courtesy of the artist.

Cozy Store, 2022 Mixed media fabric collage 13 x 13 in.

Courtesy of the artist.

Old World Charm, 2022 Mixed media collage 24 x 18 x 1 in.

Courtesy of the artist.

Natasha Bowdoin

The Seconds Tick The Time Out, 2020 Mixed media collage with linocut, pen and ink, acrylic, ephemera 39.25 x 27.5 x 1 in.

Courtesy of the artist.

Spring Study 1, 2017 Gouache and ink on cut paper 8 x 10 x 4 in.

Courtesy of the artist and Talley Dunn Gallery.

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Justin Favela

John Felix Arnold

Malvacéa, After José María Velasco, 2023 Tissue paper and glue on board 12.75 x 17.5 x 2 in Courtesy of the artist and David B. Smith Gallery.

Opening Up, 2023 Assemblage with reclaimed wood, graphite, sumi ink, and mixed mixed on found paper, on wood lattice 55 x 32 in.

Courtesy of the artist.

Mila Tsvetanova Wither, 2024 Collage 10.75 x 7.25 in.

Courtesy of the artist.

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Collage by Craft Means: Technique, Material, Gesture, and (de)constructing Identity in Contemporary U.S. American Collage Art How, through the incorporation of craft practices, today’s artists are challenging 20th century paradigms for interpreting collage and assemblage

BY COURTNEY THOMAS, CURATOR

The concept of collage is a broad one, which “may include all forms of composite art and processes of juxtaposition,”1 but the group exhibition Cut, Paste, & Beyond at the Chapel Hill Public Library, and subsequently this essay (written for the exhibition catalog), focuses on two kinds of collage: papier collé, a “form of collage referring only to the use of paper,” and assemblage, which has been “applied to both two- and three-dimensional forms.”2 The exhibition excludes digital and video collage art to limit the scope of study to physical, tactile, artworks made through processes dependent on handiwork. Still, with two types of collage under consideration, it is useful to begin by establishing a definition of the medium David Banash contends that: Collage techniques consist of two actions: selection and arrangement. In papier collé and photomontage, the artist cuts apart ready-made images or words and then pastes them together in a new work…..In assemblage, whole or fragmented objects are selected and then put together in a novel arrangement. 3

In the first technique (papier collé), there is a destruction on the way to the creation of a new whole that, Banash points out, evokes the Kabbalah myth.5 In the second (assemblage), the selection that Banash identifies as a key technique of collage could also be described as curation. Just as the artist selects materials to juxtapose in a collage work, the curator selects art to juxtapose in an exhibition. As an exhibition links and narrativizes a group of disparate artworks, the collage artist places fragments in conversation with each other to form a new image.

When describing the creation of 21st century collage, however, as works in this exhibit show, while cutting and pasting are still very present in collage creation it is reductive to limit the discussion of technique to only ‘cutting apart’ and ‘pasting together’ materials. Artists attach and combine fragments using these techniques and others, which speak to traditions of practice that they embody and reference in their work.

Technique, Gesture, and (de)constructing Identity through Collage and Performance

The materials of collage art are, then, ready-mades (a term coined

by Dada-ist Marcel Duchamp in the early 20th century to describe his art created from manufactured objects, deemed art because of his selection of them, rather than because of his role in creating them).4 The collage artist takes these “whole or fragmented objects,” which may be found objects or creations by the artist, and “selects” from them, destroying them as needed through cutting or tearing, then recombing them to form the new work.

Assemblages by Justin Favela and Danielle Hatch capture what Lesley Stern calls ‘the after-life of gesture.’ For Stern, “gestures are performed individually, but they are not possessed by individuals.

They acquire force and significance through repetition and variation.”6 Over time, gestures become resonant because they are repeated and embodied by more than one person, and come to form part of a culture. Interpreting Richard Strassberg and Tom

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Gestures can not only bolster and reveal identity and sense of place, but also collapse high and low culture.

Hare’s discussion in the Gestures Workshop, Getty Research Institute, 1999, Stern noted that, “according to one understanding of karma, a person replays gestures according to past experience, which attaches the body to an identity and to a place.”7 It is through gesture that people claim identities and through gesture that our connections to places become embodied. Sense of place can be understood through gesture because gestures are learned through experience, and repeating them, the body relies on its past experiences in particular places. As a film scholar, Stern primarily considers gestures performed to be seen (i.e. gesture as spectacle), but her ideas also apply to the unseen gestures behind the creation of Hatch and Favela’s work.

Gestures can “migrate.”8 They can be quoted, repeated, and transformed.9 Through this migration and transformation, gestures can not only bolster and reveal identity and sense of place, but also collapse high and low culture.

the production of the art, and were also the audience and critics.”11 For Hatch, this control was important. “Thinking about utilizing fabric and clothing,” she reflected in an interview, “I think it went to this notion of spheres where women had some , autonomy.”12 Here, Hatch alludes to the division between “public” and “domestic” spheres, a dichotomy based on women’s maternal role which supports “a very general (and, for women, often demeaning) identification of women with domestic life and of men with public life.”13 While this dichotomy is a source of restriction for women’s activities, Hatch explicitly references women’s domestic textile craft with the title of the “Cozies” series: “the cozy is taken from a teapot cozy: these warm items that cover the exterior of the structure.” 14 Teapot cozies are a form of ‘low culture,’ a classification that is the result of “historical processes by which embroidery [and other needlework] became identified with a particular set of characteristics and consigned to women’s hands,”15 and the phenomenon that across cultures, as Margaret Mead observed, “the prestige values always attach to the activities of men.”16 As Rozsika Parker argues in The Subversive Stitch, needlework “has been the means of educating women into the feminine ideal, and of proving that they have attained it, but it has also provided a weapon of resistance to the constraints of femininity.”17 By sewing, rather than pasting the fabric onto the photographs, Hatch’s process is committed to reclaiming space through feminized forms of work, and she repeats the gestures behind this work by quilting and sewing.

Danielle Hatch’s “Cozies” Sewing fabric onto photographs in her multimedia collage series “Cozies,” Hatch replays the gestures of generations of women, attaching her body to an identity rooted in ‘women’s work,’ creative practice as women’s history and women as caregivers. Hatch began incorporating sewing into her artistic practice to a greater extent while attending sewing classes at a community college, where “a lot of older women would go year after year to make dresses for their granddaughters, [and] make quilts.”10 In this space, dominated by women, sewing was linked to caregiving through creation. Taking on the gestures that make the techniques of sewing possible, Hatch participated in both women’s history and present, as “needlework is the one art in which women controlled the education of their daughters,

Space, like labor forms, is also coded alongside a public/domestic male/female dichotomy.18 Nancy Duncan articulated this distinction through the ideal types that compose either side of the binary:

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of her adornments, (re)claiming it as part of women’s sphere and prestige. Her choice of textiles is an identity-driven choice, underscoring that gesture, a key component of the work, is also a tool of identity formation: the colors in her palette are inspired by Peruvian textiles, because she says, “that's where my family is from and so just living with those in my home is something that seeped into my work.” 23 Positioning herself on top of the shed, “My Body was a Lonely House” is in some ways a continuation of Hatch’s performative series “She’s On Top of Things,” in which she drapes her body in positions of exhaustion over objects in and around her home, most of which are sites of work (a desk, laundry machines, the kitchen counter, her vanity, a second-story railing, trash bins, and the same shed used in “My Body was a Lonely House”). The gestures that create poses of exhaustion in “She’s On Top of Things,” are performed within and critique domestic space, but placing her body on top of the shed in the context of “My Body was a Lonely House,” Hatch sits up instead of laying down, adjusting the gesture to make visible her control over the space, and to link its simplified house shape her body.

Punning on the phrase “homebody,” the performance calls into question the assumptions behind male/female dichotomies of space, and the continued prevalence of these divisions. Throughout Hatch’s practice, gestures are a way to evoke women’s work, history, labor, and invisibility, and to recenter, reclaim and make visible their contributions that become inseparable from her own body through performance and embodying craft methods.

The private as an ideal type has traditionally been associated and conflated with: the domestic, the embodied, the natural, the family, property, the 'shadowy interior of the household', personal life, intimacy, passion, sexuality, 'the good life', care, a haven, unwaged labor, reproduction and immanence. The public as an ideal type has traditionally been the domain of the disembodied, the abstract, the cultural, rationality, critical public discourse, citizenship, civil society, justice, the market place, waged labor, production, the polis, the state, action, militarism, heroism and transcendence. ….

Historically, in legal terms at least, women have been treated as private and embodied, in the sense of apolitical. They have long been treated as if not fully capable of independent disembodied political thought and objectivity as evidenced by the fact that it was relatively recently that women were given the vote.19 Likewise, Dolores Hayden, noted that the cliche “‘a woman's place is in the home’ has been one of the most important principles of architectural design and urban planning in the United States for the last century.”20 Hatch’s “Cozies” interrupt this deeply entrenched sense of gendered space. They are “fabric sketches for site specific installations,” and as such are planning documents as well as individual works of collage art.21 They are black and white photos of vernacular architecture in Arkansas onto which Hatch has sewn colorful ruffles, quilted textiles, and tassels. While interiors (of churches, homes and other buildings Hatch uses as the basis for her “Cozies”) are traditionally female spaces, associated with the domestic, care, havens, etc., Hatch puts the products of female labor on the outside, public-facing sides of the buildings, making the women hidden by these structures but nevertheless key to the running of them visible though the repetition of their creative work. Hanging ruffles as banners over the image of a structure, she performs a kind of feminist conquest of the building, and its public-facing exterior, despite the traditionally male connotations of the public sphere.

Justin Favela’s Piñata Cartonerias Gesture is likewise central to (de)constructions of identity in Justin Favela’s practice, which uses the aesthetics of piñatas as a starting point. Raised in Las Vegas, Favela is interested in the idea of artifice and facades as part of built reality, identity formation, and performance. Favela has made literal piñata-style facades for buildings, covering them in collaged tissue paper, such as “Piñata Motel” (2016). Another example that illustrates how these themes are at work in Favela’s practice is his Gypsy Rose Piñata, a full scale piñata recreation of the iconic Gypsy Rose lowrider car. Describing the performativity at play in the work, he said:

Outside of her collage work, Hatch further attaches her body to women's work and the domestic sphere through gestures in her performance art. In “My Body was a Lonely House” (2022), Hatch sits on top of her shed wearing a dress made of alternating hot pink and wine-colored ruffles. The dress completely covers both her body and the shed.22 The outline of its gabled roof and supporting walls form the structure of her skirt, giving it a simplified house shape. In this performance, Hatch takes the themes of her “Cozies” sketches off the page and puts them onto her body. Wearing a dress she sewed, (both the product of feminized labor and stereotypically feminine in its colors and ruffles), she turns a building into part

I like the idea of reinterpreting symbols that are not only joyous and celebratory, like the pinata, but also are represented as something very violent. In lowrider culture, for example, [lowriders are] something very machista, something very patriarchal. It's this culture of men working on these cars, but when you look at a low rider like the Gypsy Rose, which was redone in 1970 by the family in East L.A.—this is a drag queen. This is a car that has been souped up and elegantly and 11

beautifully designed, of course [it is] very over the top, very baroque with so many roses on the top and on the sides. It's such a beautiful thing and also a very queer symbolism, I think. So I decided to really celebrate that part of it and also celebrate the women that are part of these lowrider families that are never talked about by making a life-size Gypsy Rose pinata. Making this out of paper really tied it to the idea of craft and not reducing the symbol but making the symbol a little bit more accessible because we all know what a pinata is for, and what a pinata represents and is used for, is to celebrate something.24 Favela describes the car that served as his inspiration as a “drag queen,” a performer using artifice to upend gender dichotomies. The car is a symbol associated with a patriarchal culture, but is subversively decorated with stereotypically feminine adornments including pink paint and roses, and performs East L.A. Latino identity by driving through the streets, just as drag queens put on a costume and make-up, using artifice as the basis of their performance. Extending this metaphor, Favela covers the cardboard forms that serve as the basis of his piñatas with colorful tissue paper, artificial facades that transform the mundane into something connected to identity. In his discussion of Gypsy Rose Pinata, Favela also references “the idea of craft,” as a way to make work more accessible. It is through craft, and the gestures involved in the specific craft practice of cartoneria, or piñata manufacture, that Favela associates himself with an identity and a place.

Creating and layering tissue-paper fringe to create his cartonerias and pinata paintings, he repeats gestures developed over a centuries-long history involving multiple civilizations (Aztec, Chinese, Spanish).25 Participating in the

afterlives of gesture, he transforms and “co-opts” the techniques of pinata-making to reference a co-opted heritage. He articulated this use of piñatas in a 2019 interview, saying: I was in art school, and I was trying to make some work about my identity. The piñata was the perfect symbol to express it. As a Latino living in the Southwest with Guatemalan and Mexican heritage, I was looking for a symbol that encapsulated that kind of Americanized Latinidad. The piñata was the perfect thing because a lot of Mexican culture and symbols and traditions have been appropriated by people in the United States. The piñata was the perfect shortcut to say so many things in a fast gesture.26 In this quotation, Favela uses “gesture” to mean artistic choice, but his choice of word has the double meaning of “gesture” as in movement. Favela uses piñata aesthetics and techniques (gestures) to associate himself with the places his family is from, and the ways the culture of those places has been co-opted, by once again co-opting cartoneria to create his art. Favela’s piñatas are a “gesture,” or simplified symbol of Americanized Latinadad, but they are also objects created through specific craft techniques, which are expressed through gestures he learned at a young age, and are part of his personal cultural experience: 27 “I’ve had a history with piñata-tying since I was a kid,” he said in a 2014 interview. These techniques, paper-mache, fringing, and layering, rely on materials that are cheap, accessible, and fragile (tissue paper, glue, water, cardboard), which contribute to a classification of piñatas as ‘low culture,’ but using his artistic “gesture” to rhetorically

“We all know what a pinata is for, and what a pinata represents and is used for, is to celebrate something.”

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elevate the craft of pinata manufacture by positioning his work as fine art, Favela collapses the distinction between high and low culture, through his use of both gesture and material.28 While he sees his work as interrogating “this hierarchy within the art world of ‘what is fine art? What is craft? What is just artesania, artisan work?’”, through his work, he uncovered a tension between craft and high art that unsettled him at first.29 He said in a 2020 interview: “I remember I used to get offended when people were like ‘Oh, cute! You’re doing this artisanal Mexican artwork,’ and I’m like ‘No, I’m a fine artist! What are you talking about? [laughter]” 30 Favela initially rejected an association with craftspeople or artisans, claiming to be doing something more prestigious, yet his work has been exhibited at the Houston Center for Contemporary Craft and covered in American Craft Council Magazine.31 His piñatas sit in the tension between “fine art,” and “craft,” a category of objects that “often have what are loosely called practical or utilitarian function.”32 Since “utilitarian craft objects usually involve physical activity,” 33 gesture is at the core of this classification question. The core gesture involved in engaging with a piñata, however, is the gesture that destroys it—the stick-swinging gesture used to break piñatas apart during celebrations. Turning the ephemeral piñata form into something precious for its aesthetic qualities rather than its functional potential, Favela upends the craft/art distinction and makes the striking gesture inappropriate, although the aesthetics of his work remain as “cheesy” or “corny” as the piñata ever was in Favela’s sense of the object as a trite identity symbol. 34 Yet, performance is part of Favela’s use of gesture on the piñata theme too. Since his childhood encounters with piñatas as part of celebrations, he has considered hitting a piñata to be a type of absurdist performance:

performance, and breaking a pinata, a violent and celebratory gesture, is part of this reclamation of space.

Taking up space, transforming the gestures of cartoneria, and excluding or including the possibility of striking pinatas in his extensive manipulation of the form throughout his work, Favela uses an Americanized symbol to question and articulate a complex identity and extend welcome to his community.

New Technique, New Critique Favela and Hatch both create artworks through techniques other than “cutting and pasting,” expanding the possibilities of mediums including collage and assemblage, and opening the door for new critical engagements with collage as a form.

David Banash’s definition and contextualization of collage is rooted in the technique of cutting, arguing that “collage artists cut into images, syntax, and contexts, breaking things apart with the same radical zeal of Fordism.” 36 Hatch and Favela, however, chose techniques that add context, rather than breaking apart existing contexts. Hatch collages colored fabric over black-and-white photographs, and Favela creates cartonerias made from colored tissue paper.

The fabric and paper they add to their compositions are color fields rather than fragmented images. They cover, envelope, and conquer, rather than dividing. Like collages that juxtapose, these compositions are still able to “ alter, expose, ridicule, or transform the coherence of ideologies,” possibilities Banash ascribes to cutting-based collage art.37 But while Banash uses cutting-based collage to argue that “critique and nostalgia are the primary modes of collage, often coextensive in every work,” Favela and Hatch use quoted and repeated gestures more than either critique or nostalgia to assert and expand identities in their work.38

I never really liked it, just because I was a calm kid, and piñata time is very celebratory but also very violent. Just the idea that we’re going to put a blindfold on you and you’re going to hit this thing and you’re going to perform for us. Can we just get the candy? What’s going on here? 35 The “us” in Favela’s description of a party with a pinata is his family and his community. After encountering a birthday party for a curator held in the basement at a museum, where “Mexico” was the arbitrary theme, Favela started hosting “Family Fiestas” in museum and art spaces as performance art and institutional critique. In these fiesta performances, held at Crystal Bridges, inside of Michael Heizer's earthwork Double Negative, at the Denver Art Museum, and on the roof of the Nevada Museum of Art, and at other locations, Favela brings his actual family members into museum and art spaces to party. Latinos taking up space becomes the

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CITATIONS 1. Katherine Hoffman, Collage: Critical Views (Ann Arbor, MI: UMI Research Press, 1989).

2. Ibid.

3. David Banash, Collage Culture: Readymades, Meaning, and the Age of Consumption (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2013).

4. Britannica, T. Editors of Encyclopaedia. "ready-made." Encyclopedia Britannica, September 10, 2019. https://www.britannica.com/art/ready-made.

5. David Banash, Collage Culture: Readymades, Meaning, and the Age of Consumption (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2013).

6. Stern, Lesley, “Putting on a Show, or The Ghostliness of Gesture,” in Lola Journal Online. (2002). www.lolajournal.com/5/putting_show.html.

7. Ibid.

8. Ibid.

9. Ibid.

10. Cara Elvira Salvatore and Danielle Hatch, Danielle Hatch on Renderings of the Feminine Experience in Performance, Installation, & Sculpture, other, YouTube (Cara Elvira, August 2, 2022). (Timestamp- 15:55).

11. Patricia Mainardi, “Quilts: The Great American Art,” Feminism and Art History, February 23, 2018, 330–46, https://doi.org/10.4324/9780429500534-18.

12. Cara Elvira Salvatore and Danielle Hatch, Danielle Hatch on Renderings of the Feminine Experience in Performance, Installation, & Sculpture, other, YouTube (Cara Elvira, August 2, 2022). (Timestamp- 29:55).

13. Michelle Zimblast Rosaldo, “A Theoretical Overview,” essay, in Woman, Culture, and Society (Stanford University Press, 1974), 17–42.

14. Cara Elvira Salvatore and Danielle Hatch, Danielle Hatch on Renderings of the Feminine Experience in Performance, Installation, & Sculpture, other, YouTube (Cara Elvira, August 2, 2022). (Timestamp 1:04:49).

15. Rozsika Parker, The Subversive Stitch (Women’s Press, 1984).

16. Quoted in Michelle Zimblast Rosaldo, “A Theoretical Overview,” essay, in Woman, Culture, and Society (Stanford University Press, 1974), 17–42.

17. Rozsika Parker, The Subversive Stitch (Women’s Press, 1984).

18. Nancy Duncan, Bodyspace: Destabilizing Geographies of Gender and Sexuality (London: Routledge, 1996).

19. Ibid.

20. Dolores Hayden. “What Would a Non-Sexist City Be Like? Speculations on Housing, Urban Design, and Human Work.” Signs 5, no. 3 (1980): S170–87. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3173814.

21. daniellehatch.com 22. Danielle Hatch (@daniellehatchstudio). “My body was a lonely house. Testing out well house cozy/house dress ideas. #performanceart #homebody #arkansasartist #fiberart #fabricart #rebeccasolnit.” Instagram, March 27, 2022. https://www.instagram.com/p/CboQP1KtzJE/.

23. Cara Elvira Salvatore and Danielle Hatch, Danielle Hatch on Renderings of the Feminine Experience in Performance, Installation, & Sculpture, other, YouTube (Cara Elvira, August 2, 2022). (Timestamp 1:04:49).

24. Justin Favela, “2021 A + E: New Monuments for a Future Generation with Justin Favela & Emmanuel Ortega,” YouTube, January 19, 2022, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bb6z_Pxd_0o.

25. Pigneri, Dominic. "Collective Violence and Birthday Parties: A Girardian Analysis of the Piñata." Contagion: Journal of Violence, Mimesis, and Culture 29 (2022): 209-216.

26. Rebecca Sutton and Justin Favela, Art Talk with Justin Favela, other, National Endowment for the Arts (National Endowment for the Arts, September 25, 2019).

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CITATIONS 27. Mallika Rao, “‘lowrider Piñata’ Encompasses the Beauty and Violence of Latino Culture in One 19-Foot Beast,” HuffPost, December 7, 2017, https://www.huffpost.com/entry/crystal-bridges-justin-favela_n_5940882.

28. NMSU University Art Museum, “Full Justin Favela Workshop,” YouTube, December 10, 2020, https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=-LiJZ1dg2wY. 29. Mass MoCA, “An Interview with Justin Favela,” YouTube, December 15, 2020, https://www.youtube.com/watch? v=W-yCMHGKQR8&t=58s.

30. Ibid.

31. Justin Favela, “Justin Favela CV/Resume” (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ol_0musMQviqqsVMK88B7SvmOn4ku3xQ_DH3TMJ6-ew/edit, 2023).

32. Markowitz, Sally J. “The Distinction between Art and Craft.” Journal of Aesthetic Education 28, no. 1 (1994): 57. https://doi.org/10.2307/3333159.

33. Markowitz, Sally J. “The Distinction between Art and Craft.” Journal of Aesthetic Education 28, no. 1 (1994): 58. https://doi.org/10.2307/3333159.

34. Mass MoCA, “An Interview with Justin Favela,” YouTube, December 15, 2020, https://www.youtube.com/watch? v=W-yCMHGKQR8&t=58s.

35. Mallika Rao, “‘lowrider Piñata’ Encompasses the Beauty and Violence of Latino Culture in One 19-Foot Beast,” HuffPost, December 7, 2017, https://www.huffpost.com/entry/crystal-bridges-justin-favela_n_5940882.

36. David Banash, Collage Culture: Readymades, Meaning, and the Age of Consumption (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2013).

37. Ibid.

38. David Banash, Collage Culture: Readymades, Meaning, and the Age of Consumption (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2013).

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PHOTOS Cover

Page 10

Detail: Malvacéa, After José María Velasco, 2023, Justin Favela.

Detail: of America: Ivory-billed Woodpecker, 2023, Noah Scalin.

Contents (i)

Page 12

Detail: Exquisite Corpse #14 - The Unconventional Mermaid, 2023, Natalie Schorr.

Detail: Spring Study 1, 2017, Natasha Bowdoin Courtesy of the artist and Talley Dunn Gallery.

Page 5

Page 13

Wither, 2024, Mila Tsvetanova.

Detail: Cozy Store, 2022, Danielle Hatch.

Page 6 Opening Up, 2023, John Felix Arnold. Photo by Marcie Reven.

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