The Ship of Theseus - New Work by Deanne Row Interview

Rime of the Ancient Mariner, 2021

The St. Louis Artists’ Guild had the pleasure of talking with Deanne Row on her new exhibition, “The Ship of Theseus - New Work by Deanne Row,” currently on display at the St. Louis Artists’ Guild until October 16, 2021. Here Deanne discusses her inspiration behind the work and some of her processes below.

Could you briefly discuss this new body of work Deanne?

The focus of my sculpture has been investigating how our psyche and even our physical body are shaped by experiences, thoughts, beliefs, memories, and myths we have about ourselves. I represent those influences by building up written words and images via papier mache and then digging back into it to reveal the persona I am creating.

In this new body of work, I consider how much of ourselves remains true as the decades pass. We do not look the same physically as we age, as we get fit, are injured, heal, consume chemicals, or we devote ourselves to a healthy lifestyle. But science tells us that much of our body is in a constant state of renewal via cell death and replacement. As our body is refreshed, so to speak, are we truly the same person? As the parts of our physical selves are replaced, how does this affect our inner self?

In my current works, I am even more relentless than usual in “reusing” materials. While my sculpture has always been created with repurposed materials, I have paid special attention to putting removed paper and encaustic wax back into the same piece, or another, in this body of work.

Ship of Theseus: A Thought Experiment

Suppose that the famous ship sailed by the hero Theseus in a great battle was kept in a harbor as a museum piece, and as the years went by some of the wooden parts began to rot and were replaced by new ones; then, after a century or so, every part had been replaced. The question then is whether the "restored" ship is still the same object as the original.

The Greek philosopher Plutarch thus questions whether the ship would remain the same if it were entirely replaced, piece by piece. Centuries later, the philosopher Thomas Hobbes introduced a further puzzle, wondering what would happen if the original planks were gathered up after they were replaced, and then used to build a second ship. Hobbes asked which ship, if either, would be the original ship of Theseus?

When starting a piece or series, how do you start? Does it start with the material, an idea, or an image, etc?

I’ve always been a big reader. Since the age of 15, I’ve worked for three different libraries and an online bookseller, so it’s not unusual for me to stumble upon a random topic and end up digging into it. With enough of these things floating around in my brain simultaneously, it’s only natural there would be many mashups. 

My ideas don’t always end up visible in a finished piece. Rather, they are informing the work from behind the scenes. For example, the individual pieces in my current work The Ship of Theseus are telling their own stories, not the story of the thought experiment, but they do refer to it in how they are created; they embody different approaches to solving the thought experiment, by using materials and techniques to physically work through the equation.

 When it comes to individual pieces, though, I would say I start with the material. Much of my work evolves intuitively as I am creating, and only when I am deep into a piece do I check my work with a reference image or plan the next steps with a sketch.

  

When you choose materials for your work, how important is the materiality to you?

Border Wall, 2018

Much of my work is very process-heavy because the process adds meaning, weight, and the element of time to my work. Both papier-mache and wax involve layering material, sometimes a hundred layers deep. During that time, I am not only “reading” or feeling the material to manipulate it, but quite literally reading the material as I work. The text and images influence my ideas and emotions, and this frequently shows up in the finished piece.

Otherwise, I choose specific materials within a piece for their physical characteristics. I identified five different types of paper in newspapers alone, four of which I used in my work. They include thick and strong cover paper from ad bundles and periodicals, standard “newsprint” paper, a softer version that is in certain ad-sheet booklets and a thin satin finished paper in cheap grocery ads. A thick glossy paper is also used for the nicer grocery ads that are not absorbent enough for papier mache. The range of brown packing papers parallels the types of grey newsprint. Who would have thought there were so many types of throw-away paper? I twist the thick paper into structural members because it creates a sturdy armature, and the rest is used in the build-up of the sculpture. I also use tissue paper and clothing patterns in translucent applications such as skin and all types of printed or illustrated papers to add texture and color: phone books, junk mail, architectural drawings, puzzle books, paperback books, financial records…

My choice of wax follows similar criteria: thickness, sturdiness, color, translucency, curing time, and, very importantly, its effect on the paper underneath. The amount of heat applied to the wax can change the way it sits on or absorbs into the paper. Low heat and thick or pigmented paper will result in an opaque surface, while highly heated wax on thin or unpigmented paper pulp can create a transparent surface showing what’s on the other side or underneath.

 

What other artists and references do you pull from for inspiration in your work?

Besides my reading tangents, I get creative inspiration as well as emotional fuel from listening to music while I paint and sculpt. Sometimes the mood of the music or even actual lyrics can be found in my finished work. Someone just commented to me that they enjoyed the peaceful mood of the paintings juxtaposed with the grittiness of the sculptures in my current exhibit, and I had to laugh because I knew exactly what I was listening to while completing those two groups. 

Several contemporary visual artists inspire me. Sharon Griffin is a figurative ceramic sculptor who hand-builds beautiful, moody facial expressions and poses, while Sylvie Cliché uses rough, raw materials to convey rough, raw emotion! I love the conceptual art of Rogelio Manzo, who uses transparent layers and multimedia to build up his 2D figures. Robin Amora uses paper and – I don’t know what – to create human flesh and skin that you suspect was recently alive and breathing. Bruno Walpoth carves incredible wooden figures in a chiseling style that directly influenced how I work in paper mache. (I’d been following his work for years before I ever thought of sculpting.) Woodrow Nash renders beautiful, lifelike figures that feel both academically traditional and full of wild color. They are like pop rocks for my eyes! Leyla Shoghi and Bettina Reisky are inspiring abstract artists working in opposite directions: Leyla has abstracted the figure into amorphic forms that are still emotionally human, and Bettina had somehow made texture into a sculpture in its own right.

 

When do you consider a piece finished? 

It depends, of course, on the project. If it is a commissioned piece or there is a deadline, I deem it finished when the piece expresses my intent and I am satisfied with the color and texture balance and the surface consistency. This usually entails declaring it “finished” but then leaving it in the studio for a week or two to catch little niggling things as I give it a passing glance. 

If the timeline is open-ended, the piece will move from the studio to various locations around the house or gallery and, honestly, I consider the piece fair game until the materials have all cured into a permanent state. Usually, a change would be something that only I would notice, but I did recently make a significant change to a piece that is noticeable: I added a house key to a wire loop on a sculpture. It wasn’t something that seemed lacking until I saw the key lying haphazardly next to it. The addition didn’t change the piece's meaning, but it satisfied my inner sense of balance – and wire never cures!

You can find more of Deanne Row’s art here: https://www.galleryrow.com/about-the-artist