Through lush, detailed work in embroidery and textiles, Max Colby reframes traditional notions of domesticity, power, and gender through a queer and non-binary lens. Embellished with beads, sequins and other adornments, they rigorously explore identity through material histories. Touching on religious ceremonial iconography, the artist reclaims, transforms, and constructs objects which subvert the aesthetics of violent, patriarchal systems through camp. Colby’s work issues a call to question through excavation and offers a space in which to navigate the challenging question of how we might reimagine queerness and its futurity.
Colby has exhibited internationally including Jane Lombard Gallery, Wave Hill, Museum Rijswijk, Danforth Museum of Art, and Spring/Break. They were recently an artist in residence at the Museum of Arts and Design, The Wassaic Project, MASS MoCA and a Leslie-Lohman Museum Fellow. Born in West Palm Beach, Colby received their BFA from the School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston and Tufts University.
For more information, please see: https://www.maxcolby.com and on Instagram @max_colby.
First, and most importantly, how are you doing? How are you navigating the highs and lows?
I am ultimately okay. Every day I check in - do I have a roof over my head? Food in the cupboard? My health? I’m fortunate that, for today, those basic necessities are covered. Emotionally, I have been taking a lot more time with everything. I work less, I read less, I’m taking extra quiet time. I make that time for my sanity. I’m fortunate and privileged to have that option. Sometimes, I go to the studio just to get a change of scenery and perspective, and not to do any work at all. When it’s a rough day, I walk to the studio just to connect spiritually, and then go home.
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 structure of my life today is not very different from before New York locked down. I’m mostly in the studio alone, at home alone, reading, researching, writing. I’m a very private, reclusive person and prefer to be alone. Giving myself that room is necessary for critical, curious thinking and development of my practice and self. That being said, I do have a social life, which has obviously completely changed. I’m not sure if my private qualities are doing me any good or are an advantage in this moment. There’s a part of me that loves being relieved from the pressures of social functions, and I feel focused. And other days, loneliness sets in and I question everything that I do.
It would be great if you could briefly talk us through your practice. Understanding it is integral to appreciating the multivalence of your work.
Much of what I explore in my work are historic constructions of gender through colonialism and imperialism from a queer perspective. How do we process imposed, violent ideologies and reimagine futures? How can we reimagine our relationship to gender, sexuality, race? A lot of what I do is fantastical, camp, kitsch. I use humor playfully and politically. I poke fun at patriarchy, the phallus, the church, art history. The work is multi-faceted and complex. However, my primary, and most personal exploration, is gender - I approach these topics from a non-binary perspective. My frequent use and exploration of traditionally ‘feminine’ or ‘domestic/craft’ materials and aesthetics comes from a full-scale rejection of these binary tropes.
How has your work changed and what have you been working on recently?
My work changed immediately. I shifted from working large and sculpturally to small collage works on paper. It came out of nowhere and developed organically. I used scraps from the studio and bought some watercolor paper, initially out of an attempt to not spend money on my work, because I didn’t have any, and remain engaged. I approached it from a place of play while using similar materials to past works, which kept the work in line. The pieces I’ve shared with you here are from this new series of 12 works on paper titled “Frolic on the Grass” (#1-12).
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?
I read a few articles recently that explore art in the time of pandemics. Most of them focus on artists working or art created during the Spanish Flu. However, I saw very few examples of ‘responses’ by artists, though there are some. What strikes me in this moment is how systematic, pathological inequalities and violence are amplified. So, for me, the moment only makes what I do or respond to more vivid, rather than changing or redirecting my focus. I have thought about whether or not making work addressing the pandemic is relevant, or something I can even stomach. For today, it’s not of interest.
Are you thinking differently? Coping differently? Inspired differently?
Everything is completely different. There’s nothing to do but embrace that difference and grow with it. My perspective is, the sooner the focus moves away from ‘getting back to normal’ and towards new ways of living, the more progress we can make.
What is bringing you solace, or even joy, in this moment?
The studio. My work has always been my primary way to connect spiritually, in community, and remain curious. Now more than ever.
Are you reading anything?
I actually haven’t been able to focus on reading. I usually read at least two novels a month, but for the past two months I haven’t had the motivation to pick up a book from my pile. The book I finished right before lockdown was ‘Zami: A New Spelling of My Name’ by Audre Lorde.