Inherited: A collection of Mixed media on canvas
Artists’ Statement:
Much of my girlhood was spent being terrified of the impending cataclysmic 2nd coming of Jesus Christ or fretting about eternal damnation. I learned how to prep and store food long term, how to grind the wheat by hand so that I could nurture my future children during the apocalypse. I spent time with other girls my age learning how to take care of babies, bake, alter skirts so they were more modest or sew a replica of a pioneer bonnet to wear while trekking through a dry Western landscape.
Once a month the girls would have a special meeting with the women in the church. It was called “Homemaking Meeting.” They would teach us handicrafts, like how to make our own Christmas tree decorations out of dried pasta, how to crochet hats to donate to those in need, how to coupon, or tie a quilt while the boys and men played basketball in the church gymnasium.
My mother was extra talented at all these perceived “feminine” endeavors. She was always working on a project and teaching others how to do the same. I would watch her toll paint decorations for the holidays, make ceramic statues of Jesus, and make the most delicious meals from the produce she grew in our garden. Every room in our Victorian home was a different vibrant color with hand stenciled embellishments. I always had access to a myriad of art supplies and so I inherited my mother’s propensity towards creativity.
In college I would try to elevate these handicrafts into “art,” belittling my mother’s talents. When she passed away from a near decade long battle with dementia at age 56, my dadshipped the entirety of my mom’s leftover art supplies across the country to me. I was perplexed by the cross-stich hoops, beads, half sewn teddy bears, and miraculous number of ribbon spools. How would these items fit into my life?
We inherited most of the materials used in this show. An eccentric family friend’s gaudy art frames and unused antique wallpaper, my great grandmother’s broaches and clip on earrings, stretchers bars from old collected paintings or my mother’s unused fabric scraps.I spent hours researching family history and doing genealogy as a youth so that I could perform sacred ordinances in temples for and on behalf of those relatives. Inherited objects have always been very important to me.
It would take me a few years of grief before I was able to use these supplies. I finished painting a giant nutcracker, learned to make dollhouses, and taught myself to cross stitch. I have been exposed to much more rich and wonderful folk art from all over the world and started valuing work I otherwise have thought was too low brow. I realized that in turning away from the church I was also trying to divorce myself from the aesthetic of it and disregard the crafting I had been taught, but that those things were part of what made me who I am now.
As I get more time and distance from my faith crisis, the grief of losing my mother or the straining of my relationships with my family members I am better able to separate myself from it all and process the trauma. Working with my mother’s paintbrushes or embroidery thread is always hard. My grief is often forefront when I work creatively. Part of that grief is my confusion at being raised in our faith traditions and wondering what she would think of me if she were still here now that I have left those traditions.
Much of the work here is coded with symbolism of my inherited faith. Most of it will not be decipherable to anyone who wasn’t raised in those traditions but would anger those who believe and see it depicted in public. We were taught that the wilder beliefs were “sacred not secret.” We weren’t allowed to talk about some of the more extreme practices: the “signs and tokens” or our special underwear that protected us from harm. I thought that if I didn’t keep the sacred secrets I would be punished. As I grew older, I realized that that was a cult tactic to guard some of the more controversial beliefs of our faith. I now realize that I have the right to own my own life experiences.
Everyone depicted in the gallery also inherited these same faith traditions. Our upbringing had various degrees of strict devoutness, but we all rejected it as adults. We all struggle in different ways to reconcile having two halves of ourselves. Having interpersonal struggles with our religious families. Guilt. Hiding parts of yourself from your past or present acquaintances. Some of us feel ashamed that we ever believed any of it in the first place.
This is about those feelings that many of us have, of having left a faith but being largely shaped by it. It’s for those of us who were willing to be labeled apostates to leave what was damaging and bigoted, and how monumentally hard and isolating it is to do so. We inherited this faith; we did not choose it. The repercussions of it will be felt for a lifetime.
Marrying my past and current selves is complicated. My house is filled with mismatched antique inheritances surrounded by a collection of contemporary art. I am equally drawn to mid-century modern architecture and a nice damask wallpaper. I have come to terms with my life and style being an eclectic fractured accumulation of ideas, aesthetics, beliefs, and time periods.
Nick and I have been collaborating for nearly 15 years. Our work has similarly been the marriage of two very different art styles and practices. This is what this show means to me. It might be something completely different to Nick. Although, we shared a similar rejection of our upbringing, we have divergent feelings about it. We also have different opinions on art and struggle through the process of collaborating, but through the difficulty of reconciling often find there is a complexity that doesn’t exist in our solo work.
We each bring a divergent viewpoint but will be forever tied by our shared story.
Artist Bios:
Nick and Erin Potter started collaborating on art in Salt Lake City, Utah in 2005. Much of their initial work was screen printed posters for concerts. They each work primarily on flat surfaces, but their collaborative work now tends to be more sculptural and include elements of installation. Each show they’ve had, they’ve created a new body of work specifically for that space.
They are married with 2 kids and a rascally dog. They live in Columbia where Nick teaches in the Digital Story telling Program at the University of Missouri. He teaches courses in writing, cartooning and videogames. Erin has a BFA in 2D Art from Weber State University where her emphasis was on painting and printmaking. She enjoys working on murals, immersive installation art, mixed media, drawing and painting.
