Kate Kretz works across disciplines to create confrontational work telling difficult truths. Talking about her practice as a somatic experience, the artist says she “often experiences news stories of inhumanity as a literal blow to my body, and carry the negative energy around with me until I process a way to remove it from my person through transformative creation. My work functions as a meditation, a healing prayer, a potent incantation to embed the finished object with as much power as possible, to rival the impact of that original negative impetus for making it. I’m aiming for a beautiful, exquisitely-crafted gut punch.”
Amongst many other accolades, Kretz’s exhibitions include the Museum of Arts & Design, Van Gijn Museum, Kunstraum Kreuzberg, Tsinghua University, Racine Museum, Katonah Museum, Telfair Museum, and San Jose Museum of Quilts & Textiles. She’s on the Fulbright Specialist Roster through 2021, and is a 2020 Renwick Alliance Distinguished Artist.
For more information, please see: http://www.katekretz.com and on Instagram @katekretzartist.
It would be great if you could briefly talk us through your practice. Understanding it is integral to appreciating the multivalence of your work.
Well, I’m trained as a painter, and completely self-taught in fiber, which I’ve been doing alongside other media for almost 20 years now. I do a tremendous amount of research for my work, but I’m also one of those people who feel as though I’m a conduit for “work that needs to be made”, so I listen closely to the Universe to determine where I need to focus. I follow serendipitous threads to research sources that inform the work and make it stronger. This process allowed me to create some very prescient work that foreshadowed the #metoo movement, the 2016 election, and the call for all oppressed groups to stand unified against our common oppressors.
For eight years now, I have been responding to the news stories of injustice that keep me awake at night. I make aggressively confrontational work that not only calls out the injustice, but connects it to other aspects of our society that might be considered more benign. (I think, for example, that “The Apprentice” played a large role in where our country finds itself right now.) I see problematic aspects of our culture that are normally treated as separate issues: racism, homophobia, misogyny, gun culture, our treatment of animals, etc. as being interconnected, and to a certain extent, encouraged, by our society of entitlement and competition. I’ve named this phenomenon, and my series, “#bullyculture”. This body of work has grown so much that there are now some sub-series, such as “The MAGA Hat Collection”, and “Gunlickers”. It could be that this is simply becoming my life’s work, because there seems to be no end in sight.
As for process, I normally get an idea, and allow it to gestate while I do research. I’m always working on three or four things at a time, and the ones that are screaming the loudest to be made get moved to the front burner.
Has any of your imagery shifted in a reflection to what's currently happening? And why, or why not?
Well, I’ve been making work about current events for years now. Sometimes I am reacting in real time to what is happening, and, often, I begin work that foreshadows and predates events major events in our culture, but, if the work is really time consuming, by the times it’s finished, it seems reactionary.
As soon as we began sheltering in place mid-March, I got the idea to make “Social Murder”, a mask made of MAGA hats, but, for the first time in my life, I hesitated. I was in shock, so many people were dying, it didn’t seem appropriate. After a week of seeing how our administration handled this crisis, and realizing that this pandemic was evolving into yet another way to oppress our most vulnerable, I knew that it had to be made. This crisis has laid bare so many problems that have always existed in this country.
Way back in January, I began a 500-hour project that is highly relevant to the recent events surrounding Black Lives Matter. The working title is “Reparation: Where Our Greatness Lies”. I am ripping out each white embroidered star of a large American flag, and hand embroidering a new star in its place, using all the actual skin tones of the people who live in this country. I recall ripping stars while watching the impeachment hearings. It takes about 10 hours per star, and I’m about 1/5th of the way through. It’s emotionally satisfying to finally be making something beautiful and positive, as for a long time now I have been focused on aggressively calling out injustice through the things that I make.
I know that there are people who create beautiful things to distract us at times like these, but it’s tough for me... to my mind, this moment calls for screaming at the top of our lungs at the inhumanity and selfishness of our leaders. My work is screaming as loud as I can in the best way I know how.
Most importantly, how are you doing? How are you navigating the highs and lows?
It’s been a tough few months: we’ve been self-isolating since mid-March. I had cleared the deck of most responsibilities to write a book this semester, and instead, spent a great deal of time homeschooling my daughter and converting my drawing classes to an online format. So, while everyone else seemed to be wondering what to do with all their extra hours, I went from having tremendous free time to having none, at a time when I really need it. So, I now get up at 5 a.m. to get 2-3 hours of writing in each day, like so many women before me.
Being outside in nature has saved my sanity: I’m immensely grateful that I live amongst lots of trees.
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?
I’ve always known that I needed regular “alone” time: up till now, I’ve always managed to structure my life to get plenty of it. Being deprived of brain space for three months has taken me to the edge: I never realized how critical quiet, solitary time was for my brain. Even during busy weeks pre-COVID, I could count on 2-3 hours of silence on my way to campus and back. These days, I take walks for some peace. I spend a lot of time on our back deck, and keep threatening to pitch a tent in the backyard. I have a home studio for embroidery, drawing, and pyrography, but I gave up my painting studio in September, so the creative space I could escape to for true isolation is gone.
Also, I regularly participate in protests, often with my daughter, but she’s vulnerable to the virus, so our family needs to be extra cautious. It’s incredibly frustrating to not be in the streets these days, with all that is going on
Are you thinking differently? Coping differently? Inspired differently?
I’m sure there is a part of me that is frozen a bit, responding to this trauma. We are locked down pretty tightly in our household. I go through phases where I’m on top of the news, and then I need to take a break for my sanity. I’ve been doing a lot to try to minimize input: unfriending FB friends who post conspiracies, unsubscribing from lots of mailing lists, paring things down. As always, I’m using my work to process and help me cope with the craziness. I might be prioritizing and making work more urgently than usual because I want to get it out into the world (or, at least, online) to act as a voice in the conversation. It is a strange time to be creating work that is “of the moment”, because all venues to show the work are shut down and the work, especially the MAGA work, will mean something different next year. My gallery has recently shuttered their doors. It’s immensely frustrating having this work sitting at home, when it would normally be out in the world, inciting dialogue. I sometimes worry that it’s all an exercise in futility, but I can’t seem to help myself, I’m driven to make the things that (I feel) need to exist in the world right now.
What is bringing you solace, or even joy, in this moment?
Well, the Art World is going through an incredible transformation. The loss of exhibitions and galleries is tragic, but there is also an aspect that makes me hopeful. I feel as though the contractions in the Art World are actually going to help us focus on more significant work, reflecting the serious times we find ourselves in. There have always been two Art Worlds, and I harbor hope that, at least for a while, the one that focuses on work of substance will rise to the top.
Personally, one of the up sides of this pandemic is spending more time with my daughter: although I’m very busy, it’s easy now to take 20 minutes to break and push her in the swing, or lie with her in the hammock and look up at the trees. When I can’t take a long walk, I embroider my flag while watching/listening to Masterclasses. Like many other people, I seem absolutely compelled to bake at least once a week: I’m currently engrossed in trying to perfect my macarons.
What research or writing are you doing that you find compelling?
Well, I’m writing my first book on finding visual voice. It’s the culmination of several decades worth of research, workshops, and semester-long classes devoted to helping people discover the work that they alone were put here on earth to make. It’s different from other creativity books in that it contains many exercises designed to help the reader arrive at several very personalized starting points for their work. I’m excited to be working on it at this moment in history, because my message serendipitously dovetails with the catastrophic upheavals happening in the art world as a result of the pandemic, and the vital, long overdue, re-evaluation of our history through the lens of intersectionality.
Are you reading anything?
For light reading, I just finished “Untamed” by Gennon Doyle, which I loved. With the onset of the pandemic, I pulled Suzi Gablik’s “The Renchantment of Art” back off my shelf. There are so many conversations going on about what the future of the Art World is going to look like: no one really has a clue. So many artists now have very little to lose, which is the perfect time to try to come up with a new paradigm that might be more personally empowering, socially engaging, and less market-based. I think it will be useful to refresh my memory regarding Gablik’s vision, to see what, if anything, can be applied to our current situation. After that, I had lined up Klaus Theweleit’s “Male Fantasies”, about The Friekorps men, precursors of the Nazis, comparing their Nazi ideals with their attitudes towards women. There are supposedly a lot of parallels with what we are seeing today, and, if that is the case, it will be very relevant to my studio work. Like many other people, I’ve also moved some of the books in my to-read bookcase, like “How To Be An Anti-Racist”, to the front of the line.