Appalachian Arts: Interview with Caroline Hatfield

Caroline Hatfield is a multi-dimensional artist, utilizing a full range of combined mediums including sculpture, installation, photography, and drawing to explore themes of landscape, ecology, and science fiction. She earned her BFA in Sculpture from The University of Tennessee and her MFA in Interdisciplinary Studio Art from Towson University. Hatfield has exhibited nationally at venues such as School 33 Art Center in Baltimore, Maryland, and The Delaware Contemporary Art Museum in Wilmington, Delaware. Recent solo exhibitions include “Unearthing” at Target Gallery in Alexandria, Virginia, and “Sedimentary Structures” at the Fort Worth Community Arts Center in Fort Worth, Texas. Visit her website at: www.carolinerhatfield.com 

As I compose this, the street where I work is quickly losing evidence of life. Much of the broader city, too. The county and state. The nation. Much of the world is locking itself down, quarantining in large and small pockets. It’s as if the earth now slows its rotation. If this phenomenon went on for long enough, us literally removing ourselves – or were removed for whatever wild reason – the earth would pretty quickly reclaim our tiny blip of an historical presence.  

Appalachian artist and sculptor, Caroline Hatfield, sets before us worlds once seemingly peopled, now spread as evidence of natural earthly states and processes affected by us, but without us. I am at once drawn into her visions, as I’m sure you will be. 

In her own words, Hatfield explores the “concept of landscape as medium, rather than subject. Depicting strange desolate environments and sublime forces, my work references the abstracted, altered land of our world while shifting outward to a science fictional realm.” We should see ourselves in her work, but ghosted from a world we once occupied. A world more than willing to wash and rust us from memory. 

As an Appalachian and she knows altered landscapes, taking inspiration from the natural state of our topographic and cultural place in the world, but also from such important focused themes as environmental abuse and destruction. Yet there’s more. Many of her renditions of landscape shrink perspectives down to tiny Appalachian worlds. Or floating us over Tolkien-like perspectives. Shoot us across the ridges of alien horizons. 

With her “Scapes” installation, for example, I’m transported to Mars and our moon, as if she’s visited those places and brought back first person impressions, as if we’ve been gifted boxed 3D landscape samples. 

Hatfield’s work is a journey. Go with her.  

HLM: How would you self-define as an artist? 

CH: I define myself as an Appalachian artist, despite making contemporary art rather than focusing on using traditional art forms more readily associated with the culture. I often describe my aesthetic taste as “dusty and rusty”, undoubtedly a result of growing up in a community of farming, logging, and mining. Yet, it is also very grounded in the vibrancy of that place - the dense woods, lush vegetation, and abundant waters, as well as the liveliness of the culture and resilience of the people. While my work draws from a wide range of influences, like geology and science fiction, I find it always returns to my personal experience of living in Tennessee.

HLM: We all have a few “homes” out in the wild world. What sort of “places” do you claim as creative “homes” out in your portions of the world?

CH: I’m grateful to have several creative homes. I have had the opportunity to move around the country a bit, which has been extremely formative of my identity. The time and distance away from East Tennessee allowed me to see clearly how greatly the landscape and culture has impacted my creative vision. Each place I have lived has always proven to offer supportive creative communities where I can cultivate that vision, from Baltimore to Dallas. There is a special kinship in the shared experience of being an artist as each of us struggle and succeed in our practices. 

HLM: Your mediums seem to range from dust to wood, from rust to paint, or glass and found objects. If you were limited to a single medium, what would it be and why?   

CH: That would be a difficult decision! I use a range of materials because I love the way multiple mediums can work in harmony together conveying a wide spectrum of permanence and ephemeral, solidity and fluidity, and presence and absence. However, if I had to choose, I have always been most drawn to metal, partly because my father worked as a farrier and dabbled in blacksmithing. There’s also this inherent contradiction in that it is earthy and elemental, yet processed and industrial. 

HLM: Claiming roots in Appalachia implies cultural influence. What about the past, present, or future Appalachian region most influences your sense of artistry?  

CH: Life in Appalachia is very physical, the economies are land and labored based, and there’s a fascinating balance of past and present - with the future remaining quite unclear. With global culture becoming increasingly digitized, to experience a culture that is so literally grounded is unique and very impressionable. That sense of industriousness and self-reliance has translated into my studio practice and concepts. Materiality and tactility are the foreground of my work, yet I hope to pose this lingering question of the not-yet-formed, future landscapes - What will they look like? And how can we inhabit them?

HLM: While we all interpret art from our own cumulative applications of knowledge and experience, from a best case scenario, what is the one thing you would like those who experience your work to walk away knowing?

CH:  I note Appalachia’s juxtaposition of protected wilderness and commodified landscapes as a major influence that produces a narrative of land use and value in my work. I reference several modes of the sublime: the human, industrial sublime that transforms our surroundings, nature’s sublime we find in geological time or vast vistas, and the future sublime of expanding possibilities, the infinity of space, and innumerable worlds. It is important to look critically at our relationship to land in terms of resources, environmental preservation, and history. I hope my work may expose the tensions, limits, and dangers of this relationship, as well as the unknown - the potential for reform, reimagining, and awareness. 

HLM: Let’s talk the “virus elephant in the room” for a moment. How do you think Covid-19 will influence your work, if at all, both materially and environmentally?

CH: Sure, it is difficult to ignore. While the virus is certainly terrifying, I do think it has negotiated a collective understanding of just how fragile our human ecologies are, from the micro levels of our bodies and homes to the macro level of countries and the globe. I hope this is a mentality we can move forward with. I am hesitant to say it will affect the content of my work, but I do see it affecting the livelihood of myself and other artists. Of course, COVID-19 has put practically everyone in a difficult financial situation. For artists, I think it is particularly frustrating to attempt to maintain a creative practice within a capitalist society, even without a global pandemic. I feel that frustration intensified right now as this situation has exposed how delicately I walk the line of sustaining my creativity along with my basic needs. I wonder which side of that line artists will land after such a visceral threat, but I am encouraged by the creative community coming together and envisioning solutions during such an uncertain time. 

HLM: What’s the one project you’ve been putting off, but know is on its way soon, and what might we expect?

CH: Currently, I am taking a brief hiatus from producing finalized work, as I have found myself with the opportunity for an extended stay in Tennessee. I am approaching this time as a chance to reconnect with and observe the spaces that have been so formative, so right now you could say my studio practice is hiking and documenting. However, I have an upcoming residency in West Virginia this summer and exhibitions in the fall and winter. I hope to arrive at these projects with a revived creative sensibility. I am not sure what to expect, but anticipate the outcome!