Meet the three newest core members of Fountain Street Gallery, Georgina Lewis, Virginia (Ginny) Mahoney, and Ponnapa Prakkamakul. In this post, they interviewed each other via email, exchanging questions and thoughts about artwork, practice and inspiration.

Ponnapa: Ginny, I love your Shards collection especially the relief assemblages. When and how did you start using destroyed/past works? I also work with found objects, and unexpected marks, so I would like to learn more about your process and decision making.

Virgina Mahoney, Remix 9: Souvenir, 2016  Ceramic shards, copper . — Virgina Mahoney, Remix 9: Souvenir, 2016 Ceramic shards, copper .

Ginny: My current body of work actually grew out of those shard reliefs, so I'll start with those and work my way into the work I'm doing now. As a ceramic artist, every so often I would weed out finished work, with a hammer! (kind of satisfying, and definitely required goggles!) I was drawn to the shards and just kept them for use in future work. That series was about making something new with a memory of the old, destroyed works, in a way that conveyed the intuitive process behind these "remix" works, as well as the curiosity and hope that comes with pushing into unknown territory. Each work was sort of like starting a drawing with one mark, and making the next based on the first, and so on until the piece feels complete. I would start with a few pieces that seemed to fit together and play off of one another, and build from there. The copper three-dimensional linear elements were part of that process as well. Once I ran out of the shards, the series was complete. But I'm not ruling out further iterations of that group.

Ponnapa: This is fascinating! And how did this process inspire your current body or work?

Ginny: The shard series finished, I began making small ceramic units, with thumb impressions as the principal gesture in the clay, yielding units which looked sort of like tongues. Always a fan of words and word play, I began to think about what these objects could do and say. After arranging them in endless configurations, I realized that I wanted to make work related to this struggle to break out of current habits and patterns. I made lists and lists of words that related to this theme. I made a cape and started attaching the small clay units, first with thread, then with wire, twisted so that its sharp ends projected towards the inside of the cape. But the cape was an unruly thing, and didn't really feel like the right form. I researched work clothing and uniforms, finally settling on a vest. I've since branched out into collars, and have made lots of bag forms that I've never published, but may use in an installation piece.

Virginia Mahoney, Transparent, Copper, fabric, thread, ceramic, acrylic.

I would love to hear more about how you start a project or series, Georgina, about the "systematized frameworks laid well in advance" and the "ongoing negotiations between intuitive responses to materials" and those frameworks. How does this work for you and how did you get there? I've become more and more intuitive in my work over the years, resisting categorized notions of working methods and trying to discover or invent how to use random things/materials. I love these quotes I found on your website: "rawness of mark making, coupled with the impossibility of reversal" and "facing my own fears of imperfection." Actually, I like a lot of the writing on your website (not to mention the work!) And I'm really drawn to your manner of experiencing and using materials, as well as the products you arrive at; both beautiful and really quirky, which I love. By the way, The series of works you’ve done while at home, that were posted on FS’ Instagram feed, are powerful! There’s an unknown, unnameable aspect that hits hard. The rawness of them really makes me feel deeply the anxiety of this time.

Georgina: Thanks for those kind words Ginny!

I’m trying to think of an analogy from the animal world to explain my work methods. Not the flounder, because they have both eyes on one side of their head but maybe the rabbit, whose eyes are set quite far apart: there’s a lot of brain activity to synthesize all the input. Basically I’ve learned to trust and go with my instinct all the while knowing I can also be completely wrong. I kind of poke at things instinctually and then step back for some analysis. It's a very necessary back and forth of approaches, like kneading bread dough into shape or having an argument with someone you love.

I actually think “instinct” may be the wrong word. It's just a different kind of structured non-verbal thinking. And then at a certain point I introduce words and try to derive a logical/transmissible meaning. Sometimes I know before I “know”. Differing languages and never just one (formal vs conceptual, etc). I think this approach may be the result of my Sound background and the improvisers I studied with. Speaking of “knowing”, in answer to the question of how do I start a project: it varies. Sometimes I have a very firm idea that I expand upon and other times I don't know I’ve started a project until I’m quite far into it: I do a fair amount of experimenting.

I’m so glad you referenced the quote about "facing my own fears of imperfection." There’s an element of self awareness; I’m by no means “there” yet but I’m a lot better at identifying my fears and then having a big fight with them. Fear can be so debilitating and it’s so easy to miss out by giving in to it. And I’m basically in love with imperfection: it’s actually real, something that’s easy to miss in our “virtual” lives. Finally, thanks for the comments on my COVID pieces! They’ve been cathartic to make as I contemplate what it means to make work in these times as well as what feels relevant.

Virgina Mahoney, The Gaze , Reclaimed fabric, thread, copper, ceramic, acrylic, interfacing

Georgina: Ginny, so much of your work seems both fragile and incredibly strong. I love the colors! (the Gaze, for instance with its beautiful purples and levels of intricacy). And those spikes! I wish Rembrandt and his Flemish colleagues had painted sitters with these sort of collars. I’m really interested in your use of language and the section of your statement that addresses “the ambiguity of words, standards, or categories”. It makes me wonder about writing that may have influenced your art and thinking: critics, but also poets or fiction writers. How do you arrive at the set of words that you use in a piece and is there carry over between works? Do you repeat words from piece to piece? I noticed the word “awkward” in your Blush collar and it felt very honest and kind, like sharing a secret that you know others also possess. Finally, what is a “salt kiln” (referenced in your bio). It sounds so exotic!!

Ginny: As a public high school art teacher for 30 years, I was constantly bombarded with standards and categories to which students were supposed fall. Whether it was grades, report card comments, or MCAS standards and levels, I was constantly struck by the inadequacy and inaccuracy of it all. I’ve always noticed ambiguities in spoken and written language, both the multiple meanings that a word can have, and the fact that sometimes, words just can’t pinpoint what I mean. That’s never more apparent than when I’m figuring out what words to include on a piece. Sometimes the same word might appear on more than one work, mainly because there is sometimes overlap in the content of multiple works. (Caution, and Yellow, for instance: both relate to fear). All the vest and collar works begin with personal experiences. By the way, the description of your process felt so familiar! The “structured, nonverbal thinking” and “Sometimes I know before I “know”.” Also the way you “poke at things”. There’s a book out recently, Material and Mind by Christopher Bardt, which I have, that is about the non-linguistic thinking that occurs through hands-on work with materials. Fascinating.

I love what you said in response to my question about "facing my own fears of imperfection"! I have been drawn to so-called “imperfection” for a while now.

(FYI: A salt kiln is fired with combustible fuel (wood, gas, etc.) and as the firing temperature is reached, salt is introduced into the firebox or fuel-burning area. The salt vaporizes and combines with silica in the clay, creating a glaze that has a texture somewhat like orange peel. It’s very exciting, indeed!)

Georgina: Oh this is so exciting! I want to talk more and the Bardt book is now on my wishlist! And more salt discussions too! (have I ever mentioned I’m really interested in alchemy?)

Ponnapa, your sampan objects are awesome! Looking at them and your mixed media/rust paintings, and thinking about your background in architecture I wonder how it all fits together; or does it? Do you think there is overlap between the disciplines and your approaches or do you like to keep them separate? The massing of the brushstrokes in your paintings makes me think of the massed materials that go into forming a building (bricks, planks of wood, etc) but maybe that’s me forcing an interpretation. And can you talk a bit about your use of “rust from groundwater.” I’m really intrigued by the use of rust as a material.

Question: What has been your path to being the artist you are now?

Ponnapa Prakkamakul, Mossasuck in Winter, 2009, 8"x10.5", mixed media on paper with soil, water, and plant from Mossasuck River in Providence

Ponnapa: I started to make art from a young age, watching my mother working in her studio in Thailand. She is a painter and uses local methods to make her own canvases from mulberry paper pulp, silk cocoon, and tree bark. In our yard, we have some mulberry trees so that my mother always has materials on hand for her experimentation. When I was in high school, I started to be her studio assistant working on reproduction work, gallery installation, and all other logistical things such as packing, labeling, and even baking for the opening reception. Then, I went to an open house at the design school. One of the students there told me about a landscape architecture profession which I had never heard of. He explained to me that a landscape architect is an artist who uses the Earth as a canvas. Although this perception is not quite true, once I started to study landscape architecture, the idea really got me hooked, and I applied for the design school. This experience shapes the way I design and make art. I use drawing and painting as part of my design process. On the other hand, my artwork is very ecological-related and site-specific.

Ponnapa Prakkamakul, Cheery, 2019, 6"x9.5", mixed media on paper with rust collected from groundwater and shack tools.

Ginny: Your description of your mother "making drawing paper from mulberry paper pulp, silk cocoon, and tree bark" having influenced you to realize that "the making of the essence of art emerges before the white paper and continues to evolve beyond artist’s hands" is also beautiful. What inspired your body of work and how you see the relationship between your landscape architecture projects and the paintings/2-D work and related pieces?

Ponnapa: Landscape is the main inspiration of my artwork. I explore sites and environments using the painting process as a tool to experience, understand, and form connections with my surroundings. I collect materials from the site to paint with such as soil, plant, groundwater, and rust from found objects. In the studio I apply collected materials on paper as a painting medium that depicts the landscapes where they originate, hoping to connect the viewers to the scenes.

While I was at RISD studying landscape architecture, I started to use this process to collect field data during site visits for my studio projects. Instead of taking photos and making notes, I used my body to collect data. The manner of soaking drawing papers into the river makes me understand the profile of the water edge and reveals the unseen information under the water. The tree bark’s print on paper also imprints a memory of that tree in my mind. Later I found out that rust also reflects the surrounding conditions similar to plants. It reacts to different levels of oxygen, moisture, and pH creating colors and textures that respond to the physical surroundings.

Ginny: Ponnapa, the way you connect with the land through your drawings made of rust or things you find there is very compelling. Using found materials from a locale to create work about that locale creates a visceral connection for the viewer that is both moving and beautiful. And rusty water as a painting medium gives me so much to think about! Did I recognize in a couple of your images the landscape near Provincetown, where the Dune Shacks are located? I've hiked that area a few times, and it is stunning and moving. I'd love to hear about your process of ideation when you are just beginning a project,

Ponnapa: The paintings you mentioned are from the David Bethuel Jamieson Artist Residency in Provincetown. The dune shack I stayed in is called C Scape, the closest shack to the Race Point Information Center. During summer months, there is a walking tour every Wednesday evening bringing visitors to visit the artist at the shack. You might be interested to check it out next time you are in the area!

As it is an off-grid shack, I did some research beforehand to make sure I had painting materials to draw. I discovered that the groundwater on the dune has high iron content because of how glaciers shaped this landscape in the past. I totally agree with you that it is such a beautiful landscape. I love how the American Beach grass moved in the wind and how it reflected the color of the sky during dusk and dawn. (Although I really love these landscape scenes, it is actually a reminder of how brutal human actions can have an effect on the environment.) This is the reason why I worked on a series of paintings to depict different stages of landscape succession of the dune while I was there. I planned to paint foredune, interdune forest, bog forest, and back dune forest using rust collected from groundwater and shack tools. I intentionally used rust colors that match with the succession stages. New rust with a lot of water and oxygen will have a yellowish tone. If you leave it longer, the color will get darker and darker. I used yellow rust to paint Pioneer representing a foredune landscape, the primary succession stage.

Ponnapa Prakkamakul, Desert, 2019, 19"x50", mixed media on paper with rust collected from groundwater and shack tools

Ponnapa Prakkamakul, Pioneer, 2019, 19"x50", mixed media on paper with rust collected from groundwater and shack tools

Desert was painted with more yellow and brown rust to represent an interdune, the secondary succession. It is very strange to me that it was very difficult to get brown and black rust while I was at the dune. Perhaps because it was very close to the sea so it is very humid and has a lot of oxygen in the atmosphere. I did not have enough time to finish the last painting of a back dune forest which I planned to use brown and black rust to paint.

Ginny: These images and your explanation really give me a much better understanding of your project at the Dune Shack, as well as your deep connections to, and knowledge of, the landscape. Next time I go there, I will be thinking about your project and seeing that beautiful place with new eyes.

Georgina Lewis, decorative bunting from project these things might kill me (or you too), 2018, 2 sided digital prints with text and mylar, 10" x 72” — Georgina Lewis, decorative bunting from project ***these things might kill me (or you too)***, 2018, 2 sided digital prints with text and mylar, 10" x 72”

Ponnapa: Georgina, I really like your project these things might kill me (or you too). I am inspired by the place specific aspect and would love to learn more about your process.

Georgina: The project is an outgrowth of an earlier one for which I photographed discarded bits of chewing gum. The original intent was a bit humorous (I planned to use the images of gum to make visually appealing patterned wallpaper) but I soon realized that, stripped of their context, the objects could also be quite beautiful and mysterious.

I wanted to make something striking and disarming so as to get an idea across. We’re heavily into the Anthropocene era, with humans having a huge (and often negative) effect on their surroundings but I do believe in the potential for change and positive transformation. Much of my work focuses on the act of transformation, be it of materials, substances (graphite to paper and back), language, or ideas, and it factors heavily here.

The process is pretty photoshop heavy with a lot of trial and error to make the central complex shapes, as well as the backgrounds, which are composited images of beads and sequined fabrics. The act of photographing the objects is quite important and has a rather performative aspect: crouching low to shoot you’re rather vulnerable if not foolish looking. And then there’s the bunting because sometimes it's easier to get your message across when you tell a joke. I shot the photos in a variety of places so part of my process is being ambulatory and traveling; sadly not much of an option during a pandemic.

Question for all: What do you like about being a Fountain Street Gallery Core Member?

Ginny: There is so much to love, from the inspiring stories of each member, to the high level of professionalism and amazing work exhibited at FS. In a few months, I have learned so much: writing descriptions for 1st dibs, the process for the 2019 Call for Art, assisting Melissa Shaak on the 2020 Core Show (and thinking about the 2021 Core Show, which I’ll be curating), brainstorming for my 2021 show (with Sylvia Vander Sluis), and learning to create the main monthly e-blast on Mailchimp; I’m so happy about all of it! The support and instruction I’ve received along the way has been phenomenal. When I got a taste of Fountain Street as an Annex member, I knew these were my people. There is so much positive energy here, and I feel myself opening up to new artistic possibilities as a result.

Ponnapa: I totally agree with Ginny! That is so true, there is so much positive energy here. Members are supporting each other like a family especially during this strange time. I also started as an Annex member and received a lot of support from the gallery. Since I have joined, I have learned so much which really helps advance my artistic path.

Georgina: Yes to all the above! I can’t sufficiently emphasize the importance of community, especially right now! And particularly this community! In my experience it’s unfortunately a bit rare to find artists who are hardworking, talented, thought provoking, and nice, but that’s exactly what I’ve found at Fountain St. I feel inspired, supported, and challenged. I’ve seen so much great work and it's helping me to expand my work and practice.

Getting to Know Our Artists: Georgina, Virginia and Ponnapa