Emily Whynott

Feast (2023) (originally exhibited at Moore College of Art’s Alumni Gallery)

As the artist of this exhibition I am performing the role of gracious hostess. This duty carries the expectation that I provide a memorable experience for my visitors. That being said, I have decided to serve up a feast of epic proportions. The dishes presented are a culmination of my efforts to impress. I offer some of the fanciest foods imaginable. In addition I’ve presented a few of my personal favorites. Acknowledging that most of my guests are unfamiliar to me, I’ve also added a few oddball choices to the feast.

Through presenting this work I hope to continue exploring the connections between the role of an artist and the role of a hostess. The time and labor behind each sculpture is concealed beneath a glossy surface. The more I sculpt and bake, the more I am struck by the similarities between working with clay and food. I think about how these processes are imbued with love and tenderness, a desire to connect with others. For both an artist and a hostess, there is a vulnerability during the final presentation, and anticipation that all will be well received. Lastly, there is the sheer joy of the “grand reveal”, the moment my efforts are ideally rewarded. 

Throughout the duration of this exhibition, I will continue to add to the bounty on the table. Please digest your findings carefully. 

Banana Dolphin (in its natural habitat) (2022)
Materials: Ceramic, fruit sticker, paper-covered pedestal.
Dimensions: 18”x 12” x 8”

The Banana Dolphin was a fad during the 1950’s and 60’s. A banana was sliced open and given eyes, a smile, and sometimes a cherry. This sculpture is a play on that theme. Who can help but smile at a banana that looks like a dolphin?

My Apologies (2023)
Materials: Ceramic, Mixed Media
Dimensions: 8’ x 4’ x 4’

The kitchen is often understood as a site of sacrifice and devotion, one where a person prioritizes care-work over their own desires. This labor extends far beyond the kitchen. It includes grocery store planning, shopping, consideration of nutritional needs and taste preferences, as well as the actual preparation of a meal. Once the meal is assembled there are the additional tasks of setting the table, orchestrating conversation, and the clean up throughout. These actions are rigidly structured by the do’s and don'ts of domestic femininity. Although the rules are unstated, they often dictate a socially-acceptable relationship for a person to have with food. Within these parameters, self-care and love are often neglected.

Through creating this body of work, I am exploring the intention behind baking and decorating a homemade birthday cake. I wanted to craft a narrative of a resourceful home baker trying to make the perfect cake for another person. These attempts were doomed to fail from the start, as the four cakes are decorated with sardines and deviled eggs. You can’t even say, “Oh, well at least they’ll taste good”.

These cakes are about trying and failing, and the pure love behind the gesture of baking someone a birthday cake. Each attempt becomes a little more hurried and desperate, as the baker runs out of strawberries and strives to make the perfect cake.

Ham and Pineapple Cake with Shrimps (2022)
Materials: Ceramic, 3D printed clay stand
Dimensions: 12” x 12” x 18”

Currently, I’m making clay sculptures of layer cakes inspired by 1950’s aspic molds. I’m drawn to the wonky and architectural jello meals created by housewives in the 50’s and 60’s. They are grotesque combinations of dissimilar ingredients, and given idyllic names like “shrimp paradise”. I’m struck by the inventiveness of these home cooks, how they used these recipes as an outlet for creativity, but at the same time, were expected to perform these laborious tasks in a seemingly effortless fashion. I’m interested in the power that hegemonic femininity still holds over all of us, how it controls our relationships to what we eat and how we nourish ourselves. These clay sculptures that I am making are colorful and exuberant, but there is something slightly disturbing about their excess and wobbliness.

Shrimps on a Picnic (with Berries and Bubbles) (2022)
Underglaze on Porcelain Slab
12” x 8” x .25”

Seafood Tower (2023)
Materials: Ceramic, plaster, paper
Dimensions: 24” x 24” x 45”

(Photos by Steve Weinik, courtesy of Moore College of Art & Design)

Wallace Street Dinner Plates (2023), set of 3
Material: Ceramic
Dimensions: 10” x 10” x 1”

(Photos by Steve Weinik, courtesy of Moore College of Art & Design)

3:05 Video

Materials: Cardboard, paper mache, paint.
Dimensions: 8’ x 8’ x 4’

These picnic sculptures are mobile and lightweight, designed to be brought into public spaces. Picnic in the Park suggests that an artwork does not need to be stable, made from precious materials, or remain physically unapproachable. I want my work to be engaged physically. The sculptures can be moved around -the sandwich toppings are removable, the grill opens and closes. The open picnic blanket creates a space for my viewer to project themselves into, so that the experience of the work is immersive. The materials are commonplace, this approach to artmaking is approachable, non-intimidating, and accessible. There is no fear of the work being damaged, conversely my audience is encouraged to poke, prod, and explore.

Materials: Cardboard, foam, plaster, tempera paint, glue, tape, wood
Dimensions: 10’ x 6’ x 10’

Suppertime explores the underlying tensions at a refined family dinner. The conduct is inelegant, though the mountains of appetizing cardboard food and expensive cutlery suggest that the guests should be having an excellent time. Rather than conceal their emotions for the sake of politeness, the figures are at each others’ throats. The lavish food may look appealing, but it is made of and propped up with shoddy construction and cardboard. The feast is tasteless and the precarious materials used to construct the guests, food, and furniture are in various states of decay. I am interested in how people come together over food, and what emotional baggage we might drop before sitting at the table in the name of politeness. The facade of an opulent, multi-course meal dissolves as the guests agree to be honest with one another and reveal their true emotions. The empty seat invites the audience to participate by sitting at eye level with the other guests.

Materials: Gouache, cardboard.
Dimensions: 36” x 1.5” x 36”

Fixer-Upper is a sculptural gouache painting on cardboard. The sculpture is flat, exaggerated by the matte-quality of the gouache. It is the scale of a dollhouse. There are moments where the cardboard surface is exposed, breaking the illusion of the delicate painted details. There is evidence that the house is inhabited, for instance the foggy bathroom mirror and an oozing pie left in the oven. Yet there aren’t dolls or small-scale furniture for the viewer to manipulate or "play pretend" with. The pieces in this game of house are locked in place, not allowing moves to be made. It is rigidly two-dimensional, exposing the unrealistic nature of “playing grown-up” as children. In preparing children for adulthood “playing house” also sets up unrealistic expectations of a perfect home.

Materials: Cardboard, tempera paint, glue, tape, rope,wood
Dimensions: 15’ x 10’ x 10

Comfort in Cardboard was a temporary installation at RISD’s Woods Gerry Gallery. The house is made entirely from discarded cardboard held together with wood, tape, and glue. It began as a model of my kitchen and eventually grew to be a small invented room. The open ceiling revealed the trees, the cardboard carpet exposed the grass. The wear of the cardboard suggests that the space is lived-in; there is an open bag of FunYuns, a sandwich plate left in the sink, indentations in the couch, etc. I used bright tempera paint to create a homey environment. The work was left outside for a week, this led to an unexpected result: students began posting themselves and friends in the space on social media. When my friends and I gathered, huddled close together because of the sloping walls, it felt like being at a house party. I realized what I had created was not a sculpture but a space that was activated by its audience, where they became the sculptures.

Materials: Gelatin, mixed media

This installation is rooted in my deep hatred of jell-o— its sliminess, sickly commercial coloring, unreliable flavors, and constant wobble. Untitled (Abomination) is an collection of sculptures that consist primarily of gelatin. I worked until my fridge (and freezer) were filled with towers of jello.
The result is gluttonous, the slime leaves no survivors —absorbing boxes of chocolates, shrimps, leftover meals, even smaller bits of itself. Walking through the space, the sickly fruity smell is inescapable.
In the left corner of the installation is a garbage bag filled with assorted jello flavors that clump into a brown mush. In many ways the work is a regurgitation.

Materials: 3D Print, silicone, Acrylic Paint
Dimensions: 12” x 12” x 12”

Materials: Plaster, cardboard, fabric, string
Dimensions: 3’ x 3’ x 6.5’

The term ‘birdlike’ is most often used to describe a woman who is fragile, slight in appearance and movement, and gentle. I wanted to interpret this description as a signifier of strength and stability. Using my sister as a model, I created a hybrid bird-woman figure that appears stoic, stable, characterized by strength and a cool gaze. The underlying structure is cardboard, coated in fiberglass and plaster. The figure stands at just-above eye level, adding to a divine presence. The use of plaster, untreated surface, and draped fabric reference a tradition of the objectified female body in sculpture. Through creating an imposing female figure with a bird skull for a head, I hoped to complicate this history.

Materials: Plaster, cardboard, foam, clay, handmade paper
Dimensions: 4’ x 3’ x 3’

Gesture is a self portrait made from discarded cardboard and foam, partially covered in plaster. The measurements for the proportions were taken directly from my body, I would hold a piece of foam up to my arm or hand and work from there, carving and adding pieces as needed. Working through direct measurements allows me to avoid using inherently patriarchal indirect measurements that reference systems of mass production. It allows for moments of imperfection, where the viewer can tell the features were sculpted with my own hand. I placed the sculpture in the corner, low to the ground where the audience is forced to look down and crouch closer to observe the details. The absence of a head provides an opportunity for the viewer to project their own emotions onto the work or speculate as to what the figure is expressing. The gesture of the hands, torso, and legs are expressive through their gesture even without a specific facial expression.

Materials: Purple foam
Dimensions: 5’ x 4’ x 4’

65 Weybosset St is the address of the Providence Arcade, the world’s oldest shopping mall. I frequently pass the Arcade and find it to be a space lost in time. The structure’s massive granite columns are preserved along with its 19th century decorative elements. The arcade structure was a favorite of the French surrealists, described as the mother of Surrealism by Walter Benjamin. Today the Providence Arcade is both nostalgic and depressing. It contains a few stores and cafes that are rarely busy. It’s hard to find the wonder that inspired the Surrealists so long ago. 65 Weybosset St is carved entirely from foam. It borrows 19th century architectural motifs found in the Arcade and transforms them into a crib hanging from the ceiling on a foam hook. The crib hanging at an angle a foot above the ground is empty. It credits the Providence Arcade specifically with its title as the mother for this surrealist sculpture of mine.

Materials: Clay, joint compound, acrylic paint, Vaseline
Dimensions: 15’ x 0.75’ x 6’

The ‘white cube’ gallery was intended to be neutral, an artificial space devoid of human emotions. The standard white walls and battleship grey floors intended to separate the art from the rest of the world. As artists we have begun to accept that the white cube is not at all separate from the messiness of human existence. The white walls might as well be skin, referring to the historical pattern of the artists privileged to display their work in galleries. At this time, we can accept the problematic nature of the white cube and its exclusive qualities. It is as if the white cube space is going through puberty. It has lost the innocence that characterized its creation and has become quite a problem. Oily acne appears to be sprouting from the white walls as the white cube goes through puberty and becomes a burdensome teenager. Artwork cannot be displayed neutrally on these pimply walls. The work suggests that is time for us to seek alternative, more inclusive modes of display.