Steven Montgomery
New York/Brooklyn, New York, USA
The pandemic imposed a silence on New York City that was in many ways comparable to 9/11 but with a level of abstract fear that anyone living here would previously have believed to be inconceivable.
My daily routine involved a 30-minute bicycle ride from my apartment in Lower Manhattan and over the East River to my Brooklyn studio. I flew through the surreal reality of the city streets with both urgency and exhilaration. Even though I’ve been able to maintain my studio practice I’ve done so with a bizarre combination of trepidation, focus and an oddly calming solitude. With the exception of the very welcome sounds of students via my computer, I have worked, for the most part, quietly and undeterred. Even in the face of so much uncertainty, I can still identify a conceptual validation in the making of sculpture that addresses my preoccupation with the effects of over-industrialization. Perhaps more so now than ever.
Having grown up in Detroit, Michigan, the water crisis in neighboring Flint—which persists even today— has had a particularly meaningful impact. As the story of Flint has evolved over the past several years, images have emerged of people igniting toxic tap water with lighters, and bathtubs and sinks filling with black sludge due to hydraulic fracking. Alarming statistics on the health of our oceans and the imperiled state of the world’s fresh water supply can be instantly accessed, seen and experienced. As an artist, I am struck by a sense of urgency (not unlike an intrepid climatologist) to give visceral weight to the reality of toxic water and the plumbing systems that deliver it. Today the people of Flint grapple with the additional trauma of having to somehow wash their hands without the aid of uncontaminated water!
As a sculptor, I have used clay throughout my career in a manner that neither bears any imprint of, nor owes any allegiance to, the myriad of definitions applied to it over the last three thousand years. Although most observers presume that mold making and casting dominate my process, the potter’s wheel is central to almost everything I make. I also use slabs, press-molding and slip-cast methods. I relentlessly sand and refine my work in the unfired stage. I also employ steel and wood to reinforce interiors. I drill into both fired and unfired clay sections. I use epoxy adhesives to achieve otherwise impossible angles. Finally, I use a process of thinly sprayed oil paint, or “patina,” that is almost as elaborate in its application as my entire construction process. I frequently work on a large scale that is as deceptive as the objects I create.