CA Ryan is an artist based in the North of England, who works in a variety of formats including drawing, collage, modelling, carving and video. Over the past four years their work has been shown at AirSpace Gallery, Stoke-on-Trent, and Forth Portal, Gravesend, and has been included in publications such as WEIGHTLESS, by SU4IP. They have an ongoing commitment to questioning the relevance of their own practice in the light of global crises, such as climate change and biodiversity loss. In view of this, the identity of CA Ryan as an artist may be subject to reinvention at any time. The following conversation took place over email between late 2023 and early 2024.
Jessica Piette: How did you become an artist and what inspires you creatively?
CA Ryan: I am not sure. I first remember getting satisfaction from art when I was a child. I used to draw with my friend, who was brilliant at creating characters and stories, just using felt-tip pens. Drawing together with this friend was a way to share a colourful, imagined world. I wanted to become an artist after that. I am still most inspired by other artists, particularly by work that is very different from anything I would think of doing.
JP: A prominent aspect of your work is the way you use a range of materials, from sculpture to photography, 3D modelling to prints. Can you explain your process, and how you choose your materials?
CAR: Yes, the core practice is paper based, because paper (in this case second-hand, inherited paper) is the first thing I reach for. I make drawings/watercolours in response to media images, but they are muted. They are not, and have never been, the whole practice. So I am restlessly trying different strategies. I have always liked the idea of very small sculptures that could have a votive function, and I see the ‘Erasables’ and other carvings in this context. I would like to expand the scope of the three-dimensional work, but to do so without making huge objects. 3D modelling in an infinite virtual space, and drone flying in the real world have given me a way to think bigger.
JP: In our initial conversation you shared that CA Ryan is a pseudonym, an anonymous artistic identity that you’ve chosen to take on since returning to your arts practice after some time away from it. Why have you decided to rename yourself?
CAR: Yes, this is not my real name. CA Ryan is the name I took at the beginning of 2020, when world news was filled with devastating wildfires and floods. The artistic identity of CA Ryan is intended to be a sacrificial one – the canary in the mine, registering the impending threat to life. It is an attempt to carve out a space in which to think, react and create in response to a global crisis. This is more than a change of direction in art practice. It is a deliberate abandonment of any previous identity as an artist. As CA Ryan I do not have a clear sense of who I am, but I am no longer held back by expectations of what I will do based on previous practice.
JP: Where do you place the importance of art and creative expression in the climate crisis?
CAR: There is definitely a role for artistic thinking and radical creativity within activism. Activist movements must continually reinvent themselves in order to get attention for their causes. But that doesn’t answer your question about the role of art itself. Perhaps its primary role is in the expression of such emotions as grief, mourning, anxiety, anger and hope.
JP: Why does sacrifice feel important in relation to the climate crisis, and in what ways has your practice shifted since taking on this new identity?
CAR: So much is being sacrificed in the interests of capitalist expansion and extraction, and in the name of human progress. But not all humans are equally responsible for, or benefit from, this destruction. Many are losing their homes and livelihoods. Meanwhile, other species of life are driven out, and eventually extinguished if they cannot be consumed or put to use. The rich diversity of life is being erased. The identity of CA Ryan is an attempt to be vulnerable and receptive to this crisis, and to listen to those under threat. But the identity itself could be abandoned or sacrificed to a more directly activist approach if necessary.
The art practice is a significant shift in subject matter. A figurative practice of drawing/painting is still there, but the other practices we have discussed are all new.
JP: The idea of abandoning one’s art practice in favour of direct action is a very real tension for many artists making political work. How do you navigate this tension? In your earlier painting works, you part destroyed the pieces by cutting the paper and setting it on fire before sewing it back together. Is the process of destruction and reconstruction driven by a need to take action through the making process?
CAR: Yes, I think you are right. Burning and cutting seems almost violent as a way to confront the paper. It goes beyond just marking and staining it. Activities like drawing and painting sometimes feel a bit pathetic as a response to the global crisis, and I am angry with my own limitations. I have not yet successfully navigated the tension that you describe, but your reference to direct action in this question is certainly relevant. Direct action could be an alternative to art practice, or it could be a model for a more strident approach within the practice.
JP: There’s a kind of reverence to the way you speak about working with inherited materials, or wanting your sculptures to function as spiritual objects. There’s the sense of wanting to cherish what has been given to you, and to offer something to be cared for in return. Even the process of tending to paper through mark-making, burning or staining. Why is it important for you to express care through making?
CAR: That’s an interesting point. Yes, I am certainly trying to repair the paper, or the image, after burning or cutting, so I suppose there is a desire to make amends. The idea of caring for life, for the planet, is important to climate activists, and there is a concern to make things whole again. Also, in my home life, I am a carer and perhaps that caring role is evident in the art practice.
JP: In your later project ‘Drax’ (2002-ongoing), which focuses on the Drax Power Station in North Yorkshire, you move towards using surveillance technologies such as a drone in order to document and critique the surveillance-heavy, private space of the station. Why was it important to recreate the power station as a 3D model and to take on a ‘drone’s eye view’?
CAR: It felt necessary to get the measure of this site. Drax Power Station occupies more than a square kilometre of land. The main chimney is 259 metres high and the turbine hall is 400 metres long. The sheer scale is very imposing. Creating a miniature model seemed like an ironic gesture given its vastness. The power station burns huge quantities of wood extracted from forests in the US, Canada and Eastern Europe, so it has a hidden reach in terms of land occupation and exploitation of natural resources. I wanted to use the drone to fly near the site. As you point out, Drax Power Station is heavily fortified, with high fences monitored by CCTV and regularly patrolled. The kind of mechanical, dispassionate vision of the drone provides a kind of reverse surveillance, but any aerial filming is viewed as suspicious and therefore it is not possible to get too close. By contrast, I like the way the 3D digital environment (Blender software) lets you fly around the cooling towers and other structures as sculpted objects.
JP: Your exploration of the 3D model of the station is a form of trespass?
CAR: In a way, yes. It is a form of low risk trespass.
JP: In our conversation you shared that the Drax project feels unresolved for you. Are you hoping to develop it further?
CAR: Yes, certainly. But I would like to make it a more collaborative project, perhaps by inviting others to interact with the model of Drax e.g. by submerging it in ash or dousing it with green wash.
JP: Have you read / seen / heard anything lately that has moved or inspired you?
CAR: I went to see an exhibition titled This is a FOREST, part of Leeds 2023, which was the culmination of a research project by Invisible Flock alongside five other artists. There was a lot of interesting work there but the one that had the most impact on me was ‘Howl’ (2023), which was an installation in a very dark space. It made me take time to readjust my eyes and focus my senses, listen to the sounds of threatened lives and slowly become open to seeing in the darkness. The experience was profound and relevant to the issues that I am working on.
JP: What is next for you?
CAR: I am developing a new body of work using collage. Some older works will be recycled or overlayed. Previously, I tended to rework things, sometimes to the point of overworking. Collage will add another layer. The cuts and disjointedness seem appropriate to reflect the dissonance in thought that I would most like to address.
Jessica Piette is a writer and curator.
Published 09.05.2024 by Benjamin Barra in Interviews
1,630 words
