Bates Interview Series: Mayele Alognon
What is it like graduating in the time of a global pandemic? In this beautiful and illuminating series of interviews with graduates of the Bates College Museum of Art, Maine, MADE IN BED contributor Rebecca Howard investigates. This series, which will be published in succession over the coming weeks, not only highlights the practices of four promising emerging artists, but reflects upon their inspirations, hopes, and anxieties for the future.
On a quiet Friday evening in late April, I received an Instagram notice from my undergraduate college that the Senior Thesis Shows for Studio Art Majors, normally presented as a splendid affair in the Bates College Museum of Art, would be instead available for digital viewing as a result of the closure of campus due to the COVID-19 pandemic. While incredibly unfortunate for the students, this provided me with a wonderful opportunity to view the portfolios of fifteen students to which, barring a surprise trip to rural Maine, I would not have otherwise had access. Bates College, a small liberal-arts institution in New England, has deep roots in promoting equality and diversity, and this year’s graduating class of studio art majors exemplifies such values. Three of the theses presented struck me as particularly well developed, aesthetically and intellectually, and I had the privilege of corresponding with the artists behind each of these theses, in interviews centred on their inspirations and studio practices. The graduation experience of these seniors was, as has likely been thoroughly overstated, unprecedented, and in the chaos ensuing their abrupt departures from their studios, college experience, and lives as twenty-two year-olds, I wanted these interviews to provide a space to reflect on their artistic practices as distinctly from this turmoil as possible. Yes, their lives have been upended, as have the lives of most of us at this point, but there is much to be gained from conversations outside of the constant discourse of coronavirus. For me, this was as much about respecting the integrity of their work as it was to provide a reprieve from current circumstances.
Mayele Alognon is from Louisville, Kentucky. Her thesis, a series of self-portraits in gouache on cardboard, explores questions of identity grounded in the physicality of the body.
Mayele Alognon, Black Skin on Cardboard III, 2019
Questions and responses have been condensed for clarity.
What would the “elevator pitch” for your thesis be?
Is there one authentic version of self or are there multiple—even infinite—versions that are all equally authentic? My work investigates this question, on the assumption that the latter is closest to the truth. I paint to validate all of these versions, making nude self-portraits on cardboard as an exploration of the multiplicity of my being, as well as experimentation of how surface can transform object and the inverse.
I paint my body in multiple instances to consider the number of identities that occupy my one being. It is not sufficient to paint only one version or a singular figure to represent myself, because I am never one single thing; I am never just embodying one aspect of my identity, nor drawing from a single emotion or experience. I am African American. I am female. I am an immigrant. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I try to paint myself in my entirety, keeping in mind the vulnerability, the shame and the excitement that are all present within the process of creating this work.
Although the concept of wholeness is a significant component of my paintings, I paint my body in fragments. Parts of me are hidden, obscured or spliced. In some paintings, it may be difficult to tell where one figure begins and where another ends, because with this multifaceted process comes complexity and ambiguity.
I use cardboard for a few reasons. I am interested in reusing materials and finding a purpose for items that are often thrown out without a second thought. I am also interested in seeing how medium and surface work off of each other. The meaning of a painting can change knowing the previous uses of the surface and its near fate as garbage. Mainly, it is my goal for the brown gouache to look as if it is emerging from the cardboard, so that the materials normalise blackness and black skin as well as the imperfections, roughness, complexity and ultimately the beauty that it inherently carries.
Is the work in your thesis the same kind of work you normally produce, or enjoy making outside of academic contexts? If given the opportunity to continue working with no limitations, would you continue to produce work along similar lines?
To an extent, yes. I've always been particularly interested in portraiture and the human figure. My medium of choice is graphite, but I do have experience working with watercolor and gouache. If I could work without limitations, I would like to continue painting the figure, but I'd love to work on an even larger scale and experiment just a little bit more with different ways of portraying black skin.
What inspired your thesis? What inspires your artistic process more broadly?
My thesis is inspired by a few things. Artist-wise, I'd been looking at John Singer Sargent's Male Nudes, and am just utterly taken away by the tenderness and intimacy Sargent was able to portray in his work. I always have such a visceral reaction to those drawings and paintings of his and wanted to make work that could, hopefully, make people feel something similar. I've also been obsessed with the paintings of contemporary artist Adam Lupton. He has this one series "What's in Store for Me in the Direction I Don't Take?" that I haven't been able to stop thinking about since the first time I saw it. Lupton's use of lines, layering, and blurring really captured my attention. More generally regarding my thesis, I'm inspired by my experiences being an art student, and not getting the chance to see black bodies often--if ever--represented within the artistic canon. Also the difficult time I have always had drawing or painting myself. I used to despise self-portraiture; I'd avoid drawing myself as much as I could, and I would struggle with any self-portrait assignments. But I have come to look at it as a way of working through some of my personal issues and being consciously contemplative of myself and my experiences.
What would the ideal display environment for your work be?
Ideally, installation-wise, my thesis advisor and I were considering having the paintings displayed using either L-hooks or copper nails to secure them to the wall. No frames, so the viewer would be able to get as close as possible and, hopefully, see that the works were made on cardboard and how the gouache affected and sometimes warped the texture of the cardboard. I personally have nothing against the 'white cube' gallery space. I think it’s more about making good use of the space available to best display the art and hopefully further emphasise both the artist's and curator's intentions.
Describe the physical space of your studio.
On campus, I shared a studio with three other peers. It was a large-ish rectangular space, windows, fluorescent lights, etc. My section of the studio had two chairs, one for working and one for relaxing in. Other than my own work, I had two books about Sargent and Kerry James Marshall at hand. Pretty postcards, materials I knew I wasn't going to use. Regarding organisation, I'm not messy, but I'm definitely not neat either, yet everything had its place. I always listen to music when I'm working. The past academic year I was listening to a lot of IDLES' "Joy As an Act of Resistance" and The National's "I Am Easy to Find." I didn't find myself eating in the studio often, but if I was, sugar was always involved in some capacity. At home, my studio is my bedroom and I've really only been working in my sketchbooks, so I'll draw or paint anywhere--at my desk or even in bed.
Describe a typical or ideal studio day.
A typical studio day consists of coming in sometime in the morning or afternoon. I like working when there's light outside, but I am not opposed to working during the nighttime. The first thing I do once I'm in there is fill up my water cup--it was a small paper cup that somehow lasted me almost the whole academic year! My brushes are most times already clean because that's usually what I do before I leave. I typically work on two paintings at a time and have all the reference photos on my phone. I try to jump into painting immediately. When I get restless, I'll either move to my comfy chair and scroll through social media or flip through one of the artist books I have in there. Going into the studio, I have no idea how much work I'll accomplish and try not to plan in advance, to save from possible disappointment if I don't get done all I had hoped. On a similar scale, I don't like doing a lot of preparation or sketches when I'm working on something. I would rather just start and erase a bunch and maybe start over--I procrastinate A LOT, so sometimes sketches and other types of preparation like that feel like procrastinating or wasting time.
Describe the trajectory of a piece of your work. Do you carefully plan and follow through, or allow a more spontaneous process?
I am not a big fan or planning my work. I like the process to inform the end result. But I will try to set certain perimeters for the work, like I want to use this material and work on this size paper, etc. I kind of like being surprised by what the body of work looks like in the end.
Mayele Alognon, Black Skin on Cardboard I, 2019
How do mistakes inform the work you produce?
I make a lot of mistakes and most of the time I don't even know it's a mistake until a lot later. For my thesis specifically, I just left the mistakes--parts where gouache splashed and I hadn't noticed until a lot later, places where I went too dark, I guess this whole part is dark now. Working on and looking at the pieces so much, more and more things look like mistakes, but no one else really notices. And since this work was about me and my wholeness, mistakes and imperfections are a part of who I am, and I think it's only fair that the paintings have those as well.
If you could be mentored by any artist from any point in history, who would it be and why?
I'd have to say John Singer Sargent. He's been such a huge inspiration to me. I really admire his ability to evoke such subtle yet powerful emotions within his work and make it look almost effortless. I never tire of looking at his work.
What are your thoughts/plans looking to the future? Are your artistic intentions more professional or personal?
Both, hopefully! The current global situation hasn't really changed the cloudy image of the future I have for myself, it's made me embrace being more flexible regarding when these semi-formed plans may occur and how. One thing I know for sure is that I'll continue making art in some capacity.
Mayele Alognon, Black Skin on Cardboard VII, 2020
Imagery courtesy of the artist.
Rebecca Howard,
Contributor, MADE IN BED