IN COVERSATION | MALKIA WILLIAMS
INTERVIEW BY DRUE HENEGAR
Photographs by Angela Hau
An artist that stands alone in her methodical craft, Malkia Williams explores new ideas surrounding the body and its relation to natural and industrial formations, material and color, and function and design. On view at Materia Designs from May 15th to June 14th, 2024, the Chicago-based artist debuts a series of sculptural works, TRACES. Williams’ work pushes the boundaries of materiality in her manipulation of anatomical structures that are shrunken, expanded, and morphed by means of metal, wool, and ceramic—among other experimental mediums. TRACES provides visceral engagement to the viewer when stepping into Materia’s “POD” that typically houses architectural scenes displaying furniture, lighting, and objects. In an inspiring conversation with Williams, she illuminates the influence of her educational background, and creative processes that have informed the exhibition. With a deep appreciation for curiosity as an artist, Williams’ desire for both an intellectual, yet playful exercise comes to life.
—
DH: To start off, I was curious if you have specific artists that inform your practice, or that you would categorize your work in conversation with?
MW: I was really trying to think about this question before the interview. I wouldn’t say my work is necessarily in conversation with specific artists; however, I was looking at Richard Hunt, a well known sculptor in Chicago, when I was in school. Thinking about the fiber-end of things I explore in my work, I also love the work of Bisa Butler in terms of quilting.
DH: I tend to always look at the connectivity of artists, but think it’s really interesting to look at your work as separate from historical influence. Are there pieces of writing, quotes, or songs that have influenced your art practice as a whole, and/or specific collections and pieces?
MW: More than anything, music is always in mind in some way. More so in the past during my undergrad I was listening to Kendrick Lamar and his early music. For example, I did a piece that was a needle felted uterus on the wall that was directly inspired from his songs.
DH: What about his music inspired your work?
MW: Generally, how he discusses the treatment of people— with everything that was going on in the world at that time, I was trying to flush out these ideas and emotions.
DH: I can see how that might be almost therapeutic, especially during that time.
DH: Your artist statement mentions that in addition to anatomical structures and objects formed in nature, you take inspiration from industrial structures and how they operate similarly to the human body. I would love to know more about this aspect of your work and what types of structures spark your interest.
MW: Well, I am obsessed with human anatomy and trying to think of it in different ways. In relation to things that are human, I think of a house, or building and how each part of the body is compartmentalized. Each part of the body is compartmentalized similarly—each room has its function and if something is out of order, the whole thing is out of order. I look at the body as a machine in this way.
DH: I know that before Haystack you were making larger-scale metal works. In thinking about industrial structures, have you considered transferring these concepts of the body and materiality to public pieces or installations?
MW: I have before, although I haven’t gotten the opportunity yet. I took a class in school where we had an assignment to create a sort of “dream show” without limitations. This is how I started thinking about anatomy and industrial structures. My project was to have an installation that mimicked the human body with walls breaking up the space.
DH: I cannot wait to see your work in this iteration in the future—I’m imagining pieces like Flow as a public work. On the opposite end of my previous question, what types of objects formed in nature influence your investigation?
MW: I tend to be fascinated by naturally occurring formations. I don’t know if you’ve ever looked at mold, but it looks like art.
DH: I will now be googling mold after this interview.
MW: You really should. I gravitate towards naturally occurring structures that almost look like they wouldn’t occur in nature.
DH: Did you make art growing up? I read that you were initially a music major in school, so I was curious if music was your “first love” creatively, or if it was another mode of expression.
MW: I made art a lot growing up. I have a really artistic family—my parents are both photographers, and my brother’s background was in studio art, and [he] does graphic design now. I went to a performing arts school where I had access to ceramics in high school, even silkscreening which is crazy to think about. Growing up in San Francisco, my mom found all of these art summer camps as well. I was singing then, so that’s what I thought I wanted to do in college and started with music theory; however, it changed when I took a dark photography class, and realized this was the only course that first semester I was really enjoying.
DH: It’s so true how one class, or the right professor can change your whole trajectory. It’s a special thing.
MW: It was that for me. At this time, I started thinking about what actually made me happy. So, I switched.
DH: How does living in Chicago influence you creatively—whether this be school, art institutions, the energy of the city itself, or something else?
MW: I would definitely say I love living in Chicago. The energy of it makes me want to make cool things, and I am always surrounded by creative people. Just walking around, everything is beautiful—the scenery, the buildings…. I wasn’t always a big museum person, but I got access to all of the institutions with school and started exploring a lot. Being from San Francisco, which is very culturally diverse, I’m happy that Chicago is similar. I don’t even feel like I’m in the Midwest…
DH: I think about that a lot in New York. It’s wild how you can be in a major city, and you drive a few minutes outside the limits and you’re in a no man’s land, or I’m imagining a cornfield in your case, perhaps… I wanted to ask about your choice in color. The exhibition is really striking with the pinks, along with the metallics in the show. I am curious how color plays a role in the work you make, whether this occurs naturally in your chosen materials or inserted specifically?
MW: I have always been a pink person, but not someone that would ever necessarily wear pink [laughs].
DH: That is extremely relatable—all black everything is usually the uniform.
MW: Well, I have objects in my home that are pink—many that don’t need to be pink but are. [laughs] I think [for the exhibition] it’s centered around body parts I am examining. It’s also a comforting color that draws you in.
DH: I think that Traces poses powerful questions to your viewers about the body in your isolation of individual parts—face, hands, ear, bust, teeth, uterus—and the materials you realize them in. With perhaps the exception of teeth ( jaw strength comes to mind here too), it’s interesting to me to think about the juxtaposition of body parts that are soft, and even vulnerable, with the robust nature of the metals you use. Can you talk more about this juxtaposition, and if this has specific meaning(s) to you in your work?
MW: I see it as a form of projection. Usually, you’d think separating a body part would be a violent act, but for art, it makes you question why this body part is made in this certain material. There’s humor in this, you know? The act of how I’m making this, and acts of manipulation. It’s beautiful too to look at them apart from the whole.
DH: It really is beautiful, and brings out a lot of different human reactions in my opinion. How do you select a specific material to use for a piece or body of work?
MW: In general, when I first imagine an idea, or a concept for a piece I think about it in the material first, and then imagine it like an anatomically correct heart. I am curious about the limitation of the material and then pushing those limits. I also think about what feelings it brings up when selecting and making a specific material. For example, metal gives strength.
DH: Speaking of material quality, I read that you’re interested in exploring glass work in the future. Can you speak more on what draws you to working with glass?
MW: I think with glass it’s the same part of my brain that’s attracted to ceramics—hard but still fragile. They’re similar in that they can both (be) cast by mak(ing) a mold, and then you pour the glass into the mold to frame. I can also sit there with a tiny torch and melt the little pieces together. The act of melting is something I’m attracted to, and another way I can explore scale in how I translate my ideas into real life.
DH: When thinking about the feelings your art practice brings up for you, in what ways does IT provide agency to you, and/or your viewers?
MW: I’m not a very verbal person sometimes, but there are things I want to communicate.
DH: Art is a language itself, and I know it will be evident to the viewers of TRACES that you have a lot of really important things to say.
DH: What motivates you to create? Do you ever have difficult times getting yourself to make art, and if so, how do you get back into flow?
MW: I do have a difficult time sometimes getting motivated. I find that making something that’s not serious and nothing to do with what I’m working on helps.
DH: I think it’s hard sometimes to create when you’re doing it for a specific outcome, or I’m sure within the professional realm. I think we forget that we can make art just for us.
MW: Yes. Recently, I stopped the project that I was working on to make friendship bracelets with a friend, and it was such a fun and helpful experience. I’m then ready to get back to work.
DH: What is your hope for viewers seeing your exhibition during design week?
MW: More than anything, I want people to look at something and chuckle to themselves and be like “That’s weird and I like it.” Obviously I want people to take my work seriously, but sometimes I think art can be taken too seriously.
DH: Agreed. I think about this a lot when it comes to visiting some museums and galleries. People are so quiet, as if you would disturb the inanimate objects if you were to yell in the middle of a gallery. It’s also funny to me because many artists and their work speak to lives that are not quiet, or contained at all.
DH: What is the most meaningful piece to you in Traces?
MW: Probably the bust of myself, “Look Closely” as it was the most technically challenging—hand building a piece of ceramic and (learning) how to manipulate it to where I wanted it. I had to become really familiar with my own body, and was taking videos of myself spinning around. [laughs] It’s a personal piece, and I definitely spent the most time on it. The two hands cast in aluminum is also a really special piece to me as well. I had volunteered myself in class to do a 3D scan of myself, and then took a mold from there.
DH: I think it’s really amazing that you volunteered yourself to do that in class. It ended up being an incredible piece as well. Lastly, can you speak to flaws you see in the current art market ecosystem as a young artist?
MW: I would say that unless your chosen medium is found objects, it's pretty expensive to get into certain types of art if you don’t have someone guiding you.
DH: I agree. I think about accessibility a lot, and who the art world serves.
MW: I mean even meeting Megan and Matt at Haystack, where this exhibition started— I was able to go because I received a fellowship through school. If you don’t have access to someone helping you, it can prevent people from creating really amazing work. The art world is interesting…