Since the early 1960s, Marilyn Pappas has been exploring the possibilities of thread, both as a dedicated artist and professor of fine arts. In her newest works, she is continuing her exploration of goddess imagery and statuary from the Greek and Roman periods. Pappas says that she “imagines the ancient sculptures as they changed and survived over the centuries. Although broken, faded and disintegrating, I see them in this era of #metoo, as metaphors for the strength and power of today’s women”, aptly titling the series Nevertheless She Persisted.
Pappas studied art at Massachusetts College of Art and Design and Pennsylvania State University and is a Professor Emerita from Massachusetts College of Art and Design. She is the recipient of many awards and fellowships, including The National Endowment of the Arts and The Bunting Institute of Radcliffe College. Her work is in many public and private collections, including the Museum of Fine Arts Boston, The Museum of Arts and Design, NYC, and the DeYoung Museum, San Francisco.
For more information, please see: https://www.marilynpappas.com and on Instagram @happas1131.
First, and most importantly, how are you doing? How are you navigating the highs and lows?
During this strange and solitary time I am mostly doing well although this first week in June has been incredibly disturbing. Fortunately I can sew while watching or listening to the continual coverage of protests in our cities against police brutality and for Black Lives Matter. I cannot turn my back on these pivotal calls for change in our society nor can I bury myself in my work, but I find that I can continue to stitch on my current piece, establishing a thoughtful rhythm.
It's my experience that most artists engage with some level of self-isolation in their day to day art practice. Has this been your experience? And if so, have you found these innate rhythms to be helpful during this larger, world-wide experience of isolation?
The isolation of the corona virus has not affected my work process very much. I live and maintain a studio in the same building so, even with social distancing, I can easily move between the two. Since each of my stitched figures takes many months to complete, the one I am currently working on was started before the advent of social distancing. Perhaps I would not have the clarity or motivation to begin a new work now with so much noise coming in from the outside. Instead, I feel, with each stitch, a meditative calm that helps me, at my advanced age, to survive and keep working.
Are you thinking differently? Coping differently? Inspired differently?
Actually, I am excited by this current series of stitched sculptures that stand at the intersection of figure and garment. I continue to find inspiration in the broken but powerful ancient Greek and Roman sculptures of women and in the way these figures have survived as metaphors for today’s women of beauty and strength, but also of vulnerability and sensitivity.
What is bringing you solace, or even joy, in this moment?
My life now is less structured but I am still walking, practicing tai chi, cooking, virtually visiting with friends and family, reading, listening to and viewing mass media. I miss the actual company of friends and family, and since I have always been a culture junkie, I feel deeply the loss of stimulation from actual visits to galleries and museums, concerts, operas, plays, movies, restaurants, all with like minded friends.
Are you reading anything?
My current reading fluctuates between the New York Times for news updates, The New Yorker magazine and Ninth Street Women by Mary Gabriel. The latter voluminous book about five women painters in New York City during the beginning of Abstract Expressionism is totally absorbing for me. The time it describes is when I first discovered abstract art in art school and beyond. My first trip to NYC in 1950 was to visit the Museum of Modern Art and contemporary galleries. Abstract Expressionism was the cutting edge of what was happening in the art world and I was totally smitten. So, remembering this time and place and the artists who were part of it has been fascinating. The romance of the movement that I felt then and the actual difficulties and poverty suffered by these artists, as described in the book, has been shocking and illuminating.
Has any of your imagery shifted in a reflection to what's currently happening? And why, or why not?
While my work does not directly respond to the coronavirus pandemic or to the protest movement that is taking place now, I feel that my stitched figures speak to the strength, power, endurance and beauty of the human condition, even in its imperfect state.