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Melissa Borman is a Minneapolis-based photographer and installation artist. Her work addresses the interconnected relationship embedded in using landscape elements as metaphors to depict our human stories and how these depictions shape our ideas of our surroundings.
Melissa has exhibited nationally and internationally at venues including Regional Cultural Center, Co. Donegal, Ireland, Galería Valid Foto BCN, Barcelona, Spain, Museum of Arts and Sciences, Macon, GA, Filter Space, Chicago, IL, and Griffin Museum, Boston, MA. Melissa is a member of Minnesota’s longest-running collective art gallery, Rosalux. She is a recipient of the Minnesota State Arts Board, Artist Initiative and Creative Support Grants, Metropolitan Regional Arts Council Grant, and Rochester Art Center’s Jerome Emerging Artist Award.
Melissa’s self-published artist book, A Piece of Dust in the Great Sea of Matter launched in September 2019. Her booklet Birds, a collaboration with writer Andy Sturdevant and designer Justin D. Allen, is in the Rosemary Furtak Artist Book Collection at the Walker Art Center.
Melissa has been an educator for over 20 years. For 15 years she led summer programs at the Burren College of Art in Co. Clare Ireland. Recently she has served as a mentor at Minneapolis College of Art and Design's MFA Program. Melissa is currently a full-time faculty member in Art and Gender Studies and Exhibitions Director at Century College in White Bear Lake, Mn. It was through her position at Century that she partnered with a local Somali Artist to create the Young East African Artists Project. Funded by an MN State Arts Board Arts Learning Grant the project provided opportunities for high school students from East African immigrant communities to learn photography as a creative tool. The program culminated in an exhibition at the Quater Gallery at the University of Minnesota Department of Art.
Melissa has exhibited nationally and internationally at venues including Regional Cultural Center, Co. Donegal, Ireland, Galería Valid Foto BCN, Barcelona, Spain, Museum of Arts and Sciences, Macon, GA, Filter Space, Chicago, IL, and Griffin Museum, Boston, MA. Melissa is a member of Minnesota’s longest-running collective art gallery, Rosalux. She is a recipient of the Minnesota State Arts Board, Artist Initiative and Creative Support Grants, Metropolitan Regional Arts Council Grant, and Rochester Art Center’s Jerome Emerging Artist Award.
Melissa’s self-published artist book, A Piece of Dust in the Great Sea of Matter launched in September 2019. Her booklet Birds, a collaboration with writer Andy Sturdevant and designer Justin D. Allen, is in the Rosemary Furtak Artist Book Collection at the Walker Art Center.
Melissa has been an educator for over 20 years. For 15 years she led summer programs at the Burren College of Art in Co. Clare Ireland. Recently she has served as a mentor at Minneapolis College of Art and Design's MFA Program. Melissa is currently a full-time faculty member in Art and Gender Studies and Exhibitions Director at Century College in White Bear Lake, Mn. It was through her position at Century that she partnered with a local Somali Artist to create the Young East African Artists Project. Funded by an MN State Arts Board Arts Learning Grant the project provided opportunities for high school students from East African immigrant communities to learn photography as a creative tool. The program culminated in an exhibition at the Quater Gallery at the University of Minnesota Department of Art.
The Interview
At what point in your life did you know that you wanted to become an artist? Did the realization emerge slowly?
As a child, I felt most at ease when I was creating something. My mother was very creative, and it was one of the few ways I could connect with her. The idea of becoming an artist never occurred to me until late in my undergraduate program. I was a film studies major and had to take a photography class. I loved it. My instructors were so supportive and encouraged me to apply to MFA programs. Once I was accepted and was packing up to move to San Francisco, I realized, "I'm actually doing this. I'm going to be an artist."
How did you evolve your style and favorite mediums?
Installation art is a broad and eclectic medium, which suits me well as I am interested in a wide range of things. I began with photography but had a strong foundation in film studies, which taught me the power of words and images. Film studies taught me how to analyze and interpret the meaning of images and how they can be used to tell stories. This knowledge has been invaluable to me as a photographer and installation artist.
Also, my mother's creativity and resourcefulness have undoubtedly inspired my work. She was raised with very little, and from her, I learned the most valuable lesson an artist can learn: there are no excuses, sometimes you just have to make do with what you have. This is why, for me, thrift stores can be just as inspiring as museums. Museums are often filled with beautiful and rare objects, but they can also be intimidating and inaccessible. Thrift stores, on the other hand, are open to everyone, and they offer a wide variety of objects to choose from. Found objects can also be very personal, as they often have a history or story behind them. This can make them even more meaningful and inspiring.
What are your time management techniques? Do you have regular working hours...or favorite times to work?
I am grateful for my full-time teaching position, but being present for students limits my time and energy for my own work. I tend to get most of my time in the studio over summer, winter, and spring breaks. During the semester, my goal is to have one creative studio day and one business day (grant writing, exhibition proposals, taxes, etc.) per week. That seems to work until a few weeks into the semester but it's always nice to dream!
The most effective tool for time management is having a supportive community. I am a member of a creative accountability group that meets (online) weekly and a monthly critique group (in person). This helps me stay on track when things get busy. These groups can also be a source of networking and resources.
Do you work on more than one piece at a time, or primarily just on one?
I typically have one primary project and one secondary project in progress at a time. I have found that this method helps me to maintain interest in both projects and to keep working when I encounter a major obstacle with one of them. For example, during the pandemic, I primarily worked on my photography series “Birds”. It made sense to focus on a project that I could work on alone in my studio during a difficult time, and photography is the medium with which I am most comfortable. Once “Birds” was well underway, these great ideas for my book and installation “[Re]collections & Earthly Artifacts” would come to me while I was pinning wallpaper to the wall or setting up my tripod.
“[Re]collections…” was so personal and I felt very vulnerable about the work. I don’t think I could have gotten very far by looking directly at it. I had to focus on another project, but it was always there just below the surface. I was able to maintain my studio set up for the photographs, and the birds were not going anywhere , so it was feasible to take a day or two off from that project to write a text piece or work on a latch hook piece. If I had just sat down and said, "Now I have to work on this multimedia installation and artist book," I would not have been able to do it.
What would you say is your biggest influence--that which keeps you working, regardless of all else, your most steadfast motivation?
I am grateful to have the most amazing community of creatives here in the Twin Cities. I would not have been able to achieve even a fraction of what I have without their support.
My motivation is my insatiable curiosity and a desire to share what I have learned. One of the most common questions I get from students is about what will happen if they try something. My answer is usually, "Try it and see!" I sometimes have an idea of what something will look like or how something will read before I'm finished, but rarely. I love the way our work can surprise us. I'm addicted to that surprise.
I am aware that many artists are happy to create work for themselves and do not seek out exhibitions. I get that, but my work is driven by a desire to communicate something that I am unable to put into words. As I grow and mature as an artist, I am becoming more effective at communicating with my audience.
Does trying something new and not knowing the rules -- the boundary pushing -- create anxiety or excitement in you? (Or both?)
I experience both excitement and anxiety when I try new things. I enjoy learning new skills and pushing myself to adapt. I used to get more anxious, but after doing this for a while, I have developed a track record of ‘pulling it off’. Now, when I feel anxious, I can remind myself that I have learned everything from new software to tying knots in fishing lines for an exhibition.
Do you enjoy having the "duality of both chaos and control" or are you happiest with a set plan?
I like to think of beginning a new project like going on a road trip. I always start with a destination in mind, but I keep an eye out for interesting-looking side roads. There's always a point at which the work tells me where it wants to go, and I've learned to always listen to the work. It knows things that I don't know yet. That's what makes this whole process an adventure!
Do you have any projects or events forthcoming?
Building on the success of” Birds” and “[Re]collections”, I am embarking on a new project that further explores mortality, specifically breath. As usual, I have a general idea of how to proceed, but I need to learn some new skills. I want to incorporate sound into the work, which is a medium that is entirely new to me. My video work has always been image and text-based. I am currently doing a lot of writing and research, and reaching out to my community for suggestions about equipment and artists that I should learn about. Please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any suggestions!
Western Bluebird
2021,
Archival pigment print, 26.25"x 21" framed
Birds Statement
In the winter of 2020, as I was preparing for a solo exhibition that spring (which eventually was canceled), I made a photograph of a little ceramic bird in my studio. I had picked up the figurine at a thrift store with the intention of breaking it to use the pieces in an installation. I thought preserving the figurine's elegant form in a photograph would make the act of destruction easier. I was wrong.
The enlarged image made a poorly re-glued flower petal more visible and the little bird even more endearing. I couldn’t bring myself to break it. Instead, I added more well-worn ceramic birds to my collection and spent the gray days of January photographing them.
Little did I know that the solitude of winter would last throughout 2020 and beyond. That May, my mother passed away the same week George Floyd was murdered just a few miles from my home. I inherited my mother’s collection of bird figurines and the project evolved. Selecting backdrops and arranging the figurines became a meditation on individual as well as collective grief.
Showing chipped beaks, a missing eye, or a broken tail, Birds is about the fragile things we love and treasure. We make space for them, we care for them, and yet more often than not someone will find them neglected or damaged despite our good intentions. The work asserts that they, like so many imperfect and once abandoned things, are worthy of care and attention.
2021,
Archival pigment print, 26.25"x 21" framed
Birds Statement
In the winter of 2020, as I was preparing for a solo exhibition that spring (which eventually was canceled), I made a photograph of a little ceramic bird in my studio. I had picked up the figurine at a thrift store with the intention of breaking it to use the pieces in an installation. I thought preserving the figurine's elegant form in a photograph would make the act of destruction easier. I was wrong.
The enlarged image made a poorly re-glued flower petal more visible and the little bird even more endearing. I couldn’t bring myself to break it. Instead, I added more well-worn ceramic birds to my collection and spent the gray days of January photographing them.
Little did I know that the solitude of winter would last throughout 2020 and beyond. That May, my mother passed away the same week George Floyd was murdered just a few miles from my home. I inherited my mother’s collection of bird figurines and the project evolved. Selecting backdrops and arranging the figurines became a meditation on individual as well as collective grief.
Showing chipped beaks, a missing eye, or a broken tail, Birds is about the fragile things we love and treasure. We make space for them, we care for them, and yet more often than not someone will find them neglected or damaged despite our good intentions. The work asserts that they, like so many imperfect and once abandoned things, are worthy of care and attention.
White Dove
2021,
Archival pigment print, 26.25"x 21" framed
2021,
Archival pigment print, 26.25"x 21" framed
Mourning Dove
2020,
Archival pigment print, 26.25"x 21" framed
2020,
Archival pigment print, 26.25"x 21" framed
Burrowing Owl
2021,
Archival pigment print, 26.25"x 21" framed
2021,
Archival pigment print, 26.25"x 21" framed