As a child, Kristina began working with fiber and textiles during her visits to her grandparent’s farm on a remote island. She attended Otis College of Art and Design in Los Angeles and began working in film production and stage design, After pursuing a graduate degree and working in architecture, she rediscovered fiber as a medium. Kristina lives in Washington, DC with her family and a naughty dog that wants to be good.
For more information, please see: http://www.kristinapenhoet.com and on Instagram @momentframer.
Kristina Penhoet, Within Limits, 2019. Wool, string. Image courtesy of the artist. Shown at a recent regional exhibition that closed early due to the pandemic.
First, and most importantly, how are you doing? How are you navigating the highs and lows?
Thank you so much for reaching out. I and my family are well and safe, something for which I’m more aware and grateful than before this pandemic. I find that my moods and motivation are definitely ebbing and flowing. A number of shows and some commissions were cancelled or modified at the beginning of our stay-home order, leaving me feeling discouraged. I try to remember something my grandmother (who grew up during the depression) used to say, “Even when the steps are small, you’re still moving forward”. So, I try to find a way to move forward every day, sometimes literally by taking a walk outside, other times by reading or trying something new.
Detail of one of my recent experiments, felting into paper.
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?
I typically have a studio outside my home that I haven’t been able to visit for weeks. Although I have a family, I am used to working and being on my own for large swaths of time each day. I do think that my comfort level with being alone (and having my loved ones nearby) has helped me stave off the feelings of isolation that many people have expressed. However, my family and I have now been together for almost 60 days, 24 hours/day. While I love them all dearly, sometimes I feel like it’s impossible to have a complete thought, let alone a creative impulse. While my creative output has diminished, I have taken this opportunity to work on what I call the “business” side of my practice: revising my website and marketing plan, applying to shows and programs, learning new skills and connecting with other artists. Thankfully, I’ve had work accepted to some regional shows that will be continuing online.
My current "studio", part of the dining room table where two teens are doing distance learning and family meals are shared. My airpods have become my most important tool!
It would be great if you could briefly talk us through your practice. Understanding it is integral to appreciating the multivalence of your work.
I am an abstract sculptural fiber artist, working primarily with wool fiber, using traditional and modern felt-making techniques. I began working with fiber and textiles when I would visit my grandparent’s farm on an island outside of Seattle. It took me decades to find my way to the medium, coming back to it after training in science, business, fine art, architecture and design.
I find beauty in the imperfections caused by chance, nature, and human interaction with a particular fascination with seemingly negative events such as abandonment, betrayal, disconnection, judgment, misrepresentation, and loss and the accompanying feelings of fear, sadness, revulsion, and anger.
The biomorphic forms I create are inspired by the human body (and other living organisms) to connect the viewer to the work and invoke the broad range of emotions which we are capable of feeling. The repetition of forms in my work is intended to enhance the emotional response of the viewer while reminding them of the universality of their experiences. I want to challenge viewers to be curious, seeking understanding and, perhaps, even beauty, in those most difficult moments that make us human and can lead us to profound empathy and a greater understanding of one another.
Kristina Penhoet, As (re)Spoken Lies Become Truths. Image courtesy of the artist. Currently showing at the Delaplaine Art Center in Frederick, MD (Online until further notice)
Has any of your imagery shifted in a reflection to what's currently happening? Or are you considering using coronavirus related imagery for future projects? Do you find it necessary to make work about the pandemic? And why, or why not?
All of the work that I make stems in some way from personal feelings and experiences that translate to a broader audience through their abstraction. While my formal language of my work is unlikely to change to be directly related to the pandemic, I am thinking more about the emotions we are experiencing during this challenging time. The anxiety, fear, isolation and/or connectedness that we are all feeling will probably begin to show up in my work
Three of the related works about boundaries and proximity created during quarantine.
Are you thinking differently? Coping differently? Inspired differently?
In the past few years, my work has been getting larger and coming off the wall to become more of a part of the space it occupies. Because of our recent close quarters, literally, because my family is all in one space and figuratively, because my mind is filled with thoughts that are unrelated to art, my work has become smaller again. I’m working on a series of small (3.5”x3.5”x2”) needle felted pieces that explore the perception of boundaries/proximity and crocheting a single chain (very narrow at 1/8” and long, using 900 yards of fiber) that documents time without me knowing how it will evolve. I also have a cancelled commission piece that I need to find the motivation to finish…but that’s a different kind of issue!
Marking time during quarantine by crocheting a long chain (1/8"x 900+ yards), intent on using in a piece but not yet sure how and where quite yet.
The soon-to-be-finished but cancelled commission…
What do you think or hope will be different after this crisis has passed?
Quite frankly, most of the time I’m just trying to get through the day, making sure my kids get what they need and doing what must be done. I feel like there are so many unknowns about what will happen in next month through next year, that I have trouble thinking about the future. I hope when this situation is over that I remember to appreciate the small things that this slowdown has forced me to see and that my children remember this experience is a positive way.
Kristina Penhoet, Slow Growth, 2019. Wool. Image courtesy of the artist. Similar in style to the piece above that's in process.
What is bringing you solace, or even joy, in this moment?
I appreciate the time I get to spend with my family because we aren’t always running off to the next activity. We eat more meals together, take walks and play games. And, we’re working as a family fold 1000 origami cranes for good luck. I do yoga and go for walks in our little neighborhood. Mostly, I just try to be thankful for things I barely noticed before, as cheesy as that sounds.
What are you reading?
I’m using books as an escape right now and have turned to novels and memoirs, rather than more critical writing. I’m also enjoying listening to the books, rather than reading them, because it offers more privacy. At libro.fm (a site for audiobooks that supports local booksellers), I’m listening to The Honey Bus, Americanah, The Dutch House and Where the Crawdads Sing.
Where are you physically?
I’m at home in Washington, DC with my husband, teen twins and a naughty dog who pretends to be good. We live in a quiet neighborhood near Rock Creek Park, one of the few urban National Parks in the country.
An example of our current overlapping interests: legos, piano, succulent garden, dog toys, new printer, the odd weapon, and my revitalization of a fiber piece prior to delivery...all in a 9'x9' space.
Kristina Penhoet, How Many More, 2019. Wool, string. Image courtesy of the artist. Currently showing at Foundry Gallery in DC, created in 2019 to question the loss of loved ones in tragic situations, never did I envision one of those situations would be a pandemic!
Detail image of How Many More, 2019. Wool, string. Image courtesy of the artist.