Date of Submission

Spring 2024

Academic Program

Studio Arts

Project Advisor 1

Beka Goedde

Abstract/Artist's Statement

If you loosened your grasp on your worst memories and your best, would you then still be yourself, or become someone new? Sometimes I hold onto my memories as things that define me, or parts of me, but what if they had just been experiences, things I can remember and nothing more? The story of who we are is something woven together from our own beliefs, ideas, memories, and perceptions of ourselves. What is the emotional or physiological reaction when you recall a memory? Although we are made up partly of memories, we can change our relationship with them. Letting go, somewhat, of our hold on what once was can allow for beautiful change within ourselves.

I used this art process to look at my relationship with memories of home. While I was making these ropes, memories came to me, some pleasant and some very challenging. One in particular kept coming into my mind uninvited and unwelcome; it kept replaying randomly, and at the worst, most inconvenient times. Finally, I faced the memory. Speaking it aloud, I cried, hating that this image and these words were invading such a special moment in my life. After that the memory eased and loosened.

In this show I mainly used two materials: vines and personal fabric made into ropes. Bittersweet vines grow on anything they can, especially trees. Growing faster than any tree, they are able to adapt their shape to their host. With a deathlike grip, the invasive vine contorts and controls the growth of the tree. Meanwhile, grapevines grow at a slower pace, somehow making it to the tops of trees without strangling them; they rest and drape across the branches, trusting the limbs to hold their weight. Although these materials look very similar at first glance, their relationships to their environment are extremely different.

Using just vines and ropes in my installation didn't initially come easily. Over these two semesters, I was afraid to take the advice that I needed to narrow my materials down. Ruth Asawa’s show, Through Line 2023-2024, at the Whitney was a turning point. Her work was so beautiful, and my favorite pieces were the ones with only a few elements repeated over and over in slightly different ways. Asawa’s exhibit showed me that my art can also be powerful while using few materials.

I am called back to making rope, over and over; no matter the project, I find my hands wanting to twist and wrap. These ropes contain small memories of my life, and the repetition of making showed me something new each time. I was around six years old when I was taught at an outdoor adventure to make rope out of grass and other natural fibers. I continued the practice of rope making, and have since taught many children and adults this skill.

The ropes that I, with help from friends and family, have created are made up of scraps of fabric collected from my family over the years. Some scraps hold little meaning for me, while some were personal items I or family used for years, bringing smiles and stories to tell as my friends and I twisted the fabric into cords. Working with these memory laden fibers felt like a string pulling at my heart. I went into an emotional place that I normally avoid within my art that I believe I owe to the meditative and intimate process of ripping and twisting my fabrics.

I am grateful to my ropes, the clothing and sheets they come from, and to the vines for helping me see patterns in myself and in my relationships that I am ready to let go of.

Raven Atsalis-Gogel

Saturday, April 6th, 2024

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