Interview: Artist Rebecca Kamen

Today’s interview features inspiring individual Rebecca Kamen, whose artwork we first read about in this article via PBS. Continuing our conversation with artists who are dyslexic, we’d like to introduce you to her work and share the following interview. “Rebecca Kamen’s work explores the nexus of art and science informed by wide ranging research into cosmology, history, philosophy, and various scientific fields…Ms. Kamen has exhibited and lectured in China, Chile, Korea, Egypt, and Spain. She has been the recipient of a Virginia Museum of Fine Arts Professional Fellowship, a Pollack Krasner Foundation Fellowship, two Strauss Fellowships, and more.” She is currently a professor emeritus of art at Northern Virginia Community College. Camp Spring Creek: “Divining Nature: An Elemental Garden” is awe-inspiring! So many of us stared at that Periodic Table of Elements for hours on end in high school. Not nearly as many went on to actually understand what it was all about, or how to apply that knowledge in applicable ways. Can you tell us about what sparked this art installation? 

Rebecca Kamen: This idea for the project came to me when I returned home from a lecture trip to Santiago, Chile. I literally walked through my front door and had a vision that I needed to create something inspired by the Periodic Table. I had no idea why that struck me at that point, but the research took me to the Chemical Heritage Foundation (CHF) in Philadelphia to research the beginning of chemistry, which was alchemy. I didn’t know what form the installation would take at that stage. I was just researching.

In the library there, the alchemy manuscripts I looked at were breathtaking. I happened to be on sabbatical that year and decided to travel to the Himalyas in Bhutan. I had seen a print of mandala inspired by that place and wanted to see it in person. Standing there in the mountains, I realized that the Periodic Table was Western cosmology in the same way that the mandala I had seen represented Eastern cosmology. If you study the Periodic Table, you know that all the letters and numbers represent things in the world above us, below, and everything in between. I knew I needed to create something beautiful and compelling enough that people would want to learn more. The concept of using a garden inspired by the orbital patterns of the 83 naturally occurring elements in the Periodic Table seemed like a natural leap, because gardens are beautiful and inviting spaces and I knew people would be able to engage with that. As it turned out, the orbital patterns also looked like flowers, so things started to click into place from there.

One of the bridges between art and science is math, which creates a universal language between both fields. When I was creating Divining Nature, I knew I wanted a sound component. I found Susan Alexjander in Portland, Oregon who was investigating the Period Table like I was, but with sound. She and I have now worked on three or four projects—the latest is called “Portal” at the National Academy of Sciences—and it is inspired by gravitational wave physics and black holes. I think it’s important to remember this connection of music, too, because it can really enhance our understanding of something. Sound is simply another way knowing. [View the video of "Portal" here.]

CSC: What is your dyslexia discovery story?

RK: I grew up before the word “dyslexia, was part of the vocabulary. ” I was bright and loved science but did poorly in math, reading comprehension, and on my SATs. I knew I wanted to teach and go to college. My parents knew this as well, but no college would accept me. My parents went to the principal who wrote a letter of recommendation for me, and Penn State eventually said they’d accept me on probation. If I didn’t make it through the first semester, I was out. I looked at the catalog and found that art education was the only major that didn’t require math and that was the route I was going to go. Working with my hands, I was able to excel. I graduated and later received a full fellowship for a master’s degree, finished that, and then received another full fellowship for an additional master’s degree in the arts. My parents’ advocacy really held a light for me to do what I wanted to do.

I didn’t learn that I was dyslexic until I became a college professor. I was visiting an acquaintance at the beach and she happened to be head of the Special Education program at University of Maryland. Through conversation about my path and my career, she realized I was dyslexic and told me. It was a revelation, but even without knowing that for most of my educational years, I think on a subconscious level I had already intuited I learned differently than others and figured out strategies to get through. Reading long pages of text still causes fatigue and some anxiety, but give me a book with images and I can tell you so much about them and how they relate to other things.

CSC: We’re especially interested in your projects that deal with rare books or scientific documents. Your interest in this material seems both ironic and intriguing. What’s the lure?

RK: The lures for me are the beautiful diagrams and visuals that express complex scientific thoughts and theories. At the American Philosophical Society Library in Philadelphia, I was invited to examine the notebooks of Lewis and Clark. They had text, but they were also beautiful objects that contained drawings of Lewis and Clark’s observations. I also saw Robert Hooke’s book called Micrographia at the Chemical Heritage Foundation and it includes engravings that he created. He was the first to develop the compound microscope. Hooke also created the word “cell” that we use to describe the cells in our bodies. He was looking at a piece of cork under magnification and he observed forms that reminded him of monastery cells. To me, that’s such a fascinating story. Narrative is what connects me to science and expands my mind.

Another epiphany I had as I went through many incredible books is that, before the advent of the camera, scientists also had to be artists. It was the only way they could record their observations. Before the 19^th Century, the books have beautiful drawings not done by artists, but by the scientists themselves. I was invited to research inMadrid in archives that included a painting that Nobel Laureate and neuro-anatomist Santiago Ramón y Cajal did when he was just 8 years old. Observing the way that Cajal saw at a young age, I could understand how his ability to see and record details planted seeds for his discovery of neurons.

As an artist looking at this specific scientific collection, I realized the significance of Cajal spending hours drawing his observations directly from the microscope. Looking through a microscope at one of his slide, it occurred to me that the process of drawing enables scientists a unique understanding that, compared to today’s world of the digital image, is more comprehensive on a certain level.  I think drawing enabled scientists at the time to really process and become more intimate with their material. This lead to a kind of understanding that can only be achieved when someone really takes the time to slowly investigate.

I was also able to explore special collections at the National Library of Medicine, which has an amazing selection of the Vesalius books. Vesalius was an anatomist from the 16^th Century and he’s also considered the founder of modern human anatomy. Several copies of his book De humani corporis fabrica (“On the Fabric of the Human Body”) are there, hand printed, each with different nuances and notes from previous owners. The images are breathtaking. Dissection had been illegal for a long time, but when these books were printed, it was one of the first times that human dissection was documented.

CSC: We read that you believe artists and scientists have similar missions to search for meaningful patterns. Do you “see” your finished piece in your mind’s eye, then make it? Give us a little window into that moment of making when immaterial meets material.

RK:  My ideas come to me as visions, a lot of times when I wake in the morning, a word or an idea will come into my consciousness. When that happens, I know I need to research and then use my findings to create work giving the ideas tangible form. The work becomes a vehicle for my own understanding, and a way to share these insights with other people. Much of my work is collaborative in nature, so communicating with others is a big part of the process as well.

For example, I am currently working on a collaborative project with a British poet.  We’re exploring the relationship of art and neuroscience. Writing has always been a challenge for me, but for some reason I’ve been able to experience “flow” with my words around science and art because of this collaboration. The poet I’m working with interprets my ideas and thoughts into his medium and what he creates then further helps me understand my own original vision. I struggle a great deal with sitting down and actually writing, so this has been a revelation for me—it feels like magic. For the sculptural or installation component, I am starting to envision some ideas that might include words literally “coming off the page” so that viewers can experience his poetry in three-dimensional form. I get sparks of seeing how that might be possible and will keep exploring until our work is complete.

In order to understand just about anything, I have to be able to understand it in relation to something else. That enables me to make connections that others may not have made before. When I work with scientists, they get excited because I can show them things through a new lens. For years, I thought this was the way that everyone in the world thought! It’s validating to find this appreciation from others, and of course I grow and benefit from the learning experience as well.

Interview: Artist David Chatt

 

Today’s interview continues our conversation with artists who also have dyslexia, and we’re proud to be featuring inspiring individual David Chatt. David has spent the second half of his life stitching tiny bits of glass one to the next, laboring to express himself in a medium that is tedious and time-consuming beyond reason. For his efforts, he has been called a “Visionary,” a “Lunatic,” and a “Beadwork Subversive.” His career was honored with a one-person show at the Bellevue Art Museum in Seattle, Washington, which was commemorated in an accompanying catalog. More recently, he received a North Carolina Artist Fellowship, one of the highest grant awards given by the state and supported by the NEA. View astonishing slideshows of his work here.

Camp Spring Creek: Can you tell us a little about you and your family’s relationship with dyslexia over the years? How has this shaped your experience of the world?

David Chatt: I am number five of six children, two girls and four boys. My father and all of the boys had dyslexia, but not to the same degree. Mine was less debilitating comparatively, but it did influence how I grew up. We were none of us very good at sports, and English classes were an exercise in humiliation. We all had similar experiences in school and not being good at these things in an odd way bound us together. Also, I think because we were not those kinds of people, we shared other interests. We built things and made things with our hands. We played games where imagination was more important than coordination.

CSC: The physical process of stitching beads together requires a sophisticated understanding of spatial relationships so that the beaded “skin” fits perfectly over the object you are working with. Superior spatial thinking is a common skill found in people with varying degrees of dyslexia. What can you tell us about your decision-making process as you set out to start stitching these skins?

DC: The technique I employ is a way of building on a three dimensional grid. A loop of four beads can be thought of as a square, one square shares a side with its neighbors and a grid forms. If one can make squares, then one can make cubes…this is how my mind works. I tend to imagine shapes broken down into squares, triangles, pentagons or trapeziums. I have always been good with numbers and math-y kinds of things…spelling no…math yes.  

CSC: How does your work as an artist and your family experiences with dyslexia influence your style as a teacher?

DC: I understand that everyone learns differently. I hope and believe that schools are better at dealing with different learning styles but I have certainly been made to feel “less-than” by overworked and under-inspired teachers who wanted nothing more than for this square peg to fit into their dang round hole. As a teacher, I make it a point to let my students know that I understand learning differences and that I count on them to let me know if we need to revisit some instruction with a different approach. Some need to hear the technique described, others need to see directions written out, others need to watch my hands and others still need to have guidance while their hands make the work. I also make it ok to ask me to repeat things because repetition is one of the ways we learn. Being a non-traditional learner has made me a better teacher, and it has also made me understand some of the frustrations my teachers had with me.

CSC: Your more recent work explores the power of everyday objects in their domestic setting, with an emphasis on narrative, memory, and emotion. In some pieces, you’re effectively taking objects people ignore (for example, we don’t pay attention to our eyeglasses unless a lens pops out) and re-invigorating them with story and a sense of the three-dimensional through your beads and stitching. That’s quite unusual, yet immediately resonate. What’s the lure for you?

DC: Most artists are a wee bit narcissistic. I am always trying to tell my story through the images I choose to engage. My best work finds the place where my personal story touches on something more universal, something that allows my audience to participate. Most of us remember someone who had those glasses. I grew up at a time when women of a certain age wore cat-eye glasses, a strand of pearls and a sweater set. Even if you have only seen that look in old movies, most of us have an association with these items. I seek iconic objects that trigger memory. By covering an object with countless tiny glass beads and meticulous needle-work, I encourage my audience to see these items in a different way. It becomes less that object and more like the place where the object once was, like a memory.

Finding a way to tell your own story is a universal human pursuit. I sometimes wonder if being a kid who was embarrassed about my penmanship and spelling made visual art more of a lure for me. With the advent of the personal computer and spellcheck, I have gradually become less intimidated, and even attracted to the process of writing. This is a surprise to me given my early experiences. In the end, I think it is important to understand that things that are labeled as “disabilities” are often just differences. I am good at this while someone else is good at that. Part of being a creative person is being able to figure out the less obvious ways to get around obstacles. What I have learned from my differences has certainly been more of an advantage than a hinderance.

Interview: Artist Melisa Cadell

Today's interview features inspiring individual Melisa Cadel. Melisa has an MFA from East Tennessee State University, with an emphasis on Sculpture and Studio Art, as well as a BFA in Drawing and Painting from University of North Texas. She serves as an adjunct professor at Appalachian State University and leads workshops at craft centers across the United States. She did not realize she was dyslexic until her son Ben was diagnosed in 4th grade. Similar to artist Courtney Dodd's insights about art, perception, and making, Melisa shared a story with us that is moving, compassionate, and vulnerable. Please join us in celebrating her accomplishments and aspirations for the future!

Camp Spring Creek: When did you first suspect that you had dyslexia and how did that realization affect you?

Melisa Cadell: I always tested poorly when it came to standardized tests. I could not spell and reading comprehension was non-existent. I always compensated by listening to what people said about things. I hung out with the intelligent people and soaked up their discussions. I made good marks but was always doing more work than the others to make up for my difficulties. When I applied to colleges there was no problem until they received my horrible SATs and ACTs. I had to be interviewed at the college institution that offered me a basketball scholarship because the scores were so low; I think they just wanted to see if I had an IQ at all. I always thought it was some type of test anxiety or something. I could do just about anything if I had enough time and studied harder than the others. I never dreamed that I was dyslexic.In college, I took classes that were more hands on, after I clomped through remedial English twice, and developed really great study skills. I enjoyed my Literature classes because the instructor I had (for both sections) walked us through each passage. I took copious notes and made great scores on the long essay tests. If someone explained the texts to me I could read multiple meanings into passages. It was like a playground. I graduated with honors in my BFA and a K-12 teaching certification in Art Ed. It took me 6 years. Art was the first thing I did not struggle with. It was a field where there wasn’t a right or wrong as long as you found a non-cliché way to do it. It was about problem solving so the more problems you had the more possibilities existed.

I did not put a label on my inability to be a functional reader until after I completed my MFA with a 4.0. Again I struggled more than my peers but I accomplished what I wanted to. Ben, my oldest child, was diagnosed in the middle of his 4^th grade year. Now, I know we are both dyslexic. Why didn’t someone figure this out before Ben’s fourth grade year? Was it because of me? He had all the same struggles. He gets words confused. He has to read things very slowly, more than once. He has difficulty copying things down from the board. Spelling is problematic. He forgets words in the middle of a sentence. He is confused about social interaction. He is terribly forgetful and his organization is very poor. He thinks backwards, like me.

The knowledge of my own disability is wrapped up with the diagnosis of my son and his difficulties. It is not easy for me; it will not be easy for him. I am pleased Ben received his diagnosis and is getting help from an Orton Gillingham tutor. I worry though; at least I was not pegged with low scores and a stigma until I was older. I was not kept from the things I loved because of the struggles. I was always placed in class with my peers and allowed to study any subject I wanted. I just want Ben to hold onto his desire to learn about this amazing world. I am pleased with the ability to see things this way, but it puts me on the outside. Sometimes, that is a lonely place to be. It is because of this solitude that I found myself through art. It communicates all the things I have never been able to voice in any other way. It is only my art that makes me feel like I might have a small understanding of what it means to be a part of this amazing world.

CSC: You're an artist, working primarily in sculptural ceramics. Many studies have shown that people with dyslexia have strong spatial thinking skills and can also "think outside the box." In what ways do you see that dyslexic advantage manifest in your work as an artist?

MC: I think that because it takes me so long to process things, I spend more time thinking. I work at it. I try to see a human side of events. I pay attention to struggles. In a way, I think my artwork is about my effort to comprehend how others see things. As an artist, I use my perception to turn something it on its ear. I do not see struggles in black and white, rather; I see in grey, in a light that is not easily understood.I think much of society is spoiled by the perceived apparent. It seems that people want a right way and a wrong way…but this leaves out the complexity. Complexity is rich and colorful, it is messy, it is beautiful and it is haunting. My work honors something in us all; it is about who we are as humans, that which is good and that which is not. I have not figured it out and do not expect to…and because I learn differently, I have learned to embrace the struggle, as well as, the fact that it does not make sense.

CSC: How has realizing your own dyslexia shaped your relationship with your son, who also has dyslexia?

MC: We are still working through it. It is difficult. I feel very upset about how he has to struggle through things while others do not. In the end, I know it will be a benefit. If he can learn to embrace it for what it can show him, difficult as it may be, he will become a success in whatever it is he wants to do. It is sometimes heartbreaking and I just have to have faith in him that he will find his way. Because of dyslexia, I think he will become a more compassionate person.

I push my son to do his personal best because I know how bright and compassionate he is. I am sympathetic and it makes me a passionate advocate, but that can complicate matters if I don’t step back and problem solve first. Teachers that do not understand the hours it takes to do what others do in a matter of minutes frustrate me, but they do not know what we (dyslexics) know and experience. I have begun to piece together ideas for parents and for teachers. My goal is to make a roadmap that benefits the student. I have built a real relationship with Ben’s teachers this year and believe we are all making progress to make the path easier for those to come.

CSC: Did you have any teachers or relatives throughout your upbringing who you felt most keenly understood your strengths and challenges? Tell us about that individual, and how they made an impression on you.

MC: My parents were always there to let me know that if I wanted it I had the power to achieve it…I know they had to work hard, and it was an encouragement to me. I believe that my mother is dyslexic; it seems she has been crippled by her inability to read and write well. She is a brilliant thinker. Yet her self-confidence was terribly damaged in her youth and she has spent her entire adult life building, it tearing it down, and building it again. I think she often lives through the accomplishments of the ones she has supported. She has felt inferior to those who finished college and made careers for themselves. She is so creatively intelligent and I just wish I could sit within her mind and look at the wonder of it all. I have a feeling that Ben’s diagnosis is helping her see there was a reason she had it so difficult. Knowing why something is the way it is, sometimes, is the first part of healing and the first step to believing.

Interview: Esteemed Designer, Madalyne Marie

Today’s interview features inspiring individual Madalyne Marie. The bio on her website offers a delightful introduction: “Madalyne didn't discover her artistic talent until her freshman year of college, however, she always found ways to cultivate her creativity. She grew up dancing, drumming, canyoneering and river rafting. She always had an interest in learning new things, traveling to new places, and helping others to find strength in their challenges. Her proudest accomplishments include having a piece on exhibit at the Smithsonian…Madalyne lives by the firm belief that good design and creative expression should be applied to everything she does, including cooking, rearranging her furniture, or singing car karaoke at the top of her lungs. She and her husband, Dustin, have been married for five years, live in New York City and have exactly zero children.” Camp Spring Creek: So much of the design and logo work you have created for companies like Avon, Mark, Coach, and Four & Twenty Sailors involves unique interpretations and layout of letters and symbols. As professional with the dyslexic advantage, we find this especially intriguing. In what ways do you think being dyslexic informs your creative decisions with letters and symbols, specifically?

Madalyne Marie: I see words and letters as shapes. This helps me see how the letter-forms interact with each other, as well as the space and the environment that they’re in. That environment might be a website or magazine cover for instance. Being dyslexic also helps me see connections between things and solve visual problems quickly because I can bring my intuitive sense for consistency, evolution, and difference into the brainstorming process. When I work with others, this helps me make the visual connections needed to get the job done, as well as to work efficiently.

CSC: As a graphic designer, your mediums are color and light—two intangible substances. In what ways does being dyslexic inform your ability to manipulate color and light in markedly stunning ways?

MM: Being dyslexic helps me visualize things more clearly and naturally, so I can visualize before I execute ideas. I can see the outcome beforehand and I can see the potential problems as well, so—all around—the work is quicker. For instance, I might decide that I can’t make a background one color and a design feature another color because, in my mind, I can see beforehand that it’s not going to be visually compelling in the way that I want it to be. This is a really positive and empowering tool and I’m still experiencing how useful and important it is, both artistically and professionally.

Growing up, no one shared a message with me about dyslexia that was positive. No one said to me, “I’m dyslexic, I did ok. You’re going to be ok, too.” I’m so passionate about this message now, because there are kids in schools that still think there’s something wrong with them. We need to let them know they’re not attached to a label or an expectation and they’re not attached to shame. They have really positive and empowering tools within themselves, just like I had to discover, as well.

It’s so much easier to label a child “bad” instead of “good.” That kind of thinking isn’t working well for today’s kids. We have to get in on the ground level and reach out to the younger generation. They’re the ones who will change the conversation going forward. If we can get them through school, the more they understand that they’re capable and that they’re needed, the better the world will be.

CSC: What can you tell us about the interactive Dyslexic Advantage traveling installation?

MM: It’s a large, interactive installation that combines three components—the experience of someone growing up being dyslexic, juxtaposed with what dyslexia really is, along with an interactive activity that helps someone experience what it could be like for people who are dyslexic. The installation is fairly large and you can pick up letters and interact with it and move things around to complete your experience.

The title of the installation is Dyslexic Advantage, named after the book and research by Brock and Fernette Eide, because it’s such an incredible resource and inspiration to me. They focus on the struggles, but also the achievements of people with dyslexia. That message was important for me to hear.

I made the installation for the capstone of my BFA project at Brigham Young and it was really life changing. The project let everyone know I was dyslexic. I hadn’t really told people before because I didn’t want people to hold me to different standards. I entered the installation into a few exhibition contests, including the Smithsonian, and a few months later I was accepted into their show called “In/finite Earth,” that toured around the world in 2013.

CSC: In brief, what is your dyslexia discovery story? How and when were you identified and in what ways did that influence your life as you moved forward?

MM: I didn’t actually learn what it means to be dyslexic until my senior year of college. I was identified as dyslexic in 2^nd grade and was put in special education my entire childhood. My teachers never sat me or my parents down and told us what it all meant. So for many years, I just thought “dyslexic” was a nicer way to say someone was really stupid or unintelligent.

That’s a really hard way to grow up—believing that you’re never going to be as smart as anyone else. I could always tell that the expectations weren’t as high for me and I didn’t like that. When I got to college, I was able to take my first art class. Growing up, I had extra reading and writing classes, so I was never allowed to take art. But in college, at the end of my first semester, my teacher asked me what I was going to major in and I told him Communications. He told me I was crazy if I didn’t major in Art. To make a long story short, I went with art and, in particular, graphic design, and won an award pretty early on. My capstone project was about dyslexia and traveled around the world through the Smithsonian. Finally, I really, truly, started to understand what dyslexia was—and all the positive things it entails.

Interview: Artist Courtney Dodd

 

Today's interview features inspiring individual Courtney Dodd. Courtney is a conceptual artist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She earned an MFA from Virginia Commonwealth University, completed a two-year Core Fellowship at Penland School of Crafts, and has been honored with several artist residencies across the United States. She makes work that intimately explores the "psychological and emotional effects of shifting visual phenomena." In this interview, she shares the personal explorations of her own dyslexia story, as well as the advantages she experiences as an artist living and making with dyslexia.

Camp Spring Creek: Can you tell us when and how you first learned that you were dyslexic? How did this knowledge change your understanding of yourself and how you experience the world?

Courtney Dodd: I remember having to stay in during recess in preschool to practice tying knots. I was the only kid in my class that couldn’t tie my own shoes. Then, the challenge moved on to reading clocks. Far into elementary, it was difficult for me to read clocks and tell my right hand from my left. All of these are supposedly early signs of being dyslexic. I went to a private tutor for reading and memorized tricks for spelling. I thought of myself as trying to fit into a world that wasn’t personally, easily accessible.

Although I excelled at school, growing up I had a strong sense of embarrassment about my dyslexia. Handwritten notes were hidden and have long sense merged to spell-checked computer documents. But it has become apparent that anxiety is the true negative, rather than dyslexia, as the one thing that can hold me back. I learn and grow exponentially more when I am open, honest, and unafraid.

Being a dyslexic student has made be a better teacher. Being a dyslexic person has made me a more sympathetic friend. I am better in many ways for being dyslexic.

CSC: You make work that explores the duality of seeing and not seeing. We find that parallel with your dyslexia diagnosis fascinating, because so much of living with dyslexia has to do with "seeing" the world differently. Tell us a little bit more about the unique vision you bring to your work when you enter the studio--what is your goal, what is your desire, what is your attitude as you explore, etc.?

CD: An artist is essentially a filter for their environment. I absorb, filter and translate my surrounding atmosphere. My ultimate goal is to begin a thread of communication between my work and the viewer, which acts as a link between the audience and myself. In a fast-paced world, I hope to slow the tempo of the conversation and let the viewer marinate with my work. By searching for meaning in the artwork, we start an exchange between the work and the viewer, and back again—much like the washing of the ocean on the beach. There are no wrong answers, nor inaccurate translations. Just as in life, we each act as our own filters, deciphering the codes adjoining us.

Being dyslexic has at times been challenging, frustrating, and embarrassing. The complications of life are what help us understand ourselves more deeply and, most importantly, relate to those around us. Our happiest moments are always measured in relation to our most heartbreaking. There is forever a duality and paradox within the ebb and flow of life. Dyslexia is one of my struggles and yet, it is one of my accomplishments.

CSC: Your career has led to many successes--from artist residencies to solo exhibitions to teaching opportunities. Details and planning are sometimes a challenge for those gifted with what we like to call the "dyslexic advantage." Has this been your experience? If so, have any of your career successes presented you with challenges specific to dyslexia and how did you work with that?

CD: An artist has to constantly speak, write, and explain their work. Being dyslexic has at times proven difficult. I often hide my handwritten notes or journals because of my spelling and shorthand explanations. Some people misconstrue spelling mistakes or the confusion of numbers or letters as ignorance. Because I frequently jumble letters and numbers, I have a personal system of reviewing myself. Slowing down and checking and rechecking has become habitual. Calendars, electronic reminders, prompts, and apps all keep me on track and on-point for my goals, priorities, and schedules.

I often multitask between two different jobs during a day. I keep an electronic list of to-do notes and try to prepare all work before it is due to give time to make sure it is correct. Planning is helpful, preparation is constructive, but when I’m having a hard day and things aren’t lining up correctly in my mind, I find that patience with myself is most effective.

CSC: Tell us about what you are most excited about with regard to your artwork right now. What do you have coming up and what concepts are you exploring? How does that initial exploring begin for you--in your head, in a journal/sketchbook, in the studio, or something else?

CD: I am currently creating a body of work that revolves around the idea of seeing and the distortion of what is seen. I make blown glass filters, alter them by sanding their surface, and then take photographs through them. Water and condensation is also another media that I am taking images through. I consider myself a conceptual artist, which simply means that I am driven by my ideas. I begin with a thought and build from there. My material and form are shaped by my concept. Over time, my personal aesthetic has developed—but again, this has been shaped by my concepts and ideas.

The most fruitful moments in making for me have been during the creative process. I might have an idea, be working through a piece, or think I’m almost done. But there is an essential point, as an artist, that I have to be observant of during the development of a piece. This essential point is a selective and transient moment when an idea that originated in my head is transformed through working with my hands. This has the potential to become more than the original thought. This is the objective that I keep working towards; these ideas that are smarter than I am, that are a balance of thoughtfulness and hard work.

Courtney's work is driven by a genuine desire to explore the limits of what we see as it relates to what is actually there--both literally and metaphorically. What initiates doubt? What forms beliefs? How do we behave as a society if the act of revealing is simultaneously paired with the act of concealing? These are questions Courtney deeply considers, and some of her "answers" can be viewed here.