Art: Leah Knecht
Break the Painting
The Subversive Riddles of Leah Knecht
Leah Knecht is one of those rare creators who combine immense technical skills with a strong vision, therefore making objects both meaningful and exquisitely wrought. A graduate from Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, she has certainly honed some of her abilities during her academic years. But her ease with all sorts of materials—as well as her capacity of blending them in unexpected ways—has grown exponentially thanks to endless experimenting. She is always trying something new. She is constantly exploring, and it shows.
Knecht’s portfolio is organized in six sections, sorting different genres. They are rather variations on a theme than distinct expressive avenues. Overall, the work is consistent and compact—notwithstanding the plethora of materials and means employed by the artist, notwithstanding as well her love of fragments, castoffs, urban flotsam. A wide maze of expressive modes plus a crowd of miscellanea converge, magically, into a coherent whole.
Let’s go through the different series, for sake of simplicity.
The square or rectangular works in the Resinate series look like 2D, as they hang on a wall and offer a flat, smooth, regular surface. But their thickness allows for all sorts of objects to be embedded within, juxtaposing meticulously oil painted areas. Resin seals and unifies each piece, and yet the inlaid parts—often tracing a cross or an x—break the painting with dramatic impact. They subvert the message proposed by the imagery, showing what lies behind it. Sometimes the effect is blunt, unavoidable—as for the bullets incorporated in ‘Mortal Sin’ and in ‘Blam’. Sometimes, the reading is more encrypted—as for the tubes of colors in ‘Equal Justice’—more blurred—as for the hell of tar and scrap metal in ‘Los Angeles’—more layered—as in ‘Manifest Destiny,’ which remarkably summarize a whole history of conquest, splattered in tears and blood, from stone arrowheads to gunpowder.
Los Angeles, 2017, 12x12x2. Photo by Leah Knecht.
In its whole, Knecht’s art is an informed and heartfelt commentary about the world we live in, deepened by a keen awareness of history. The artist’s vision is as wide as it is profound. The issues to which the art responds are many and interconnected—violence and gun culture, immigration and xenophobia, race and gender discrimination, equal or rather unequal justice, consumerism, echo-disaster and more.
- TO. When did your acute sensibility to socio-political issues begin, and where did it come from? Is it somehow connected with your mixed heritage?
- LK. I’ve been a proponent of social justice since I was very young. I was discriminated against because of my Japanese heritage, as I was the only Asian girl in my elementary school. Kids would spit at me, throw rocks, and exclude me. Then, when I was in 4th grade, the school district was ordered to begin desegregation by busing, and I was no longer the only minority. My new friends were other minorities, and that was a turning point in my life. I always stood up for the underdog after that.
As far as my art, socio-political issues fully surfaced when things like mass shootings, the rise of White Nationalism, police shootings of unarmed blacks and worsening income inequality became too infuriating and saddening to not speak out against. I do it through art, because that is where I’m most talented. My pieces have sparked discussions, with some good outcomes. I don’t delude myself thinking that my art can change the world, but if it can change a few minds, I’ll take it.
The issues addressed by Knecht’s art are never cried out. Every single piece is a riddle. First, it gives a strong general impression and evokes a recognizable shape (a temple, a building, a game of Majong, or an elephant). As the viewer comes close, mesmerized by the intricacy of details, different suggestions emerge—witty, amusing, perplexing. Titles contribute to the enigma. Sometimes they are nonsense words, made up by bits and pieces like the works of art they define. Words hide within the pieces as well—poignant, ironic, hilarious—outlining each time a kind of charade. Joining the dots is left to the viewer—thus compelled to think, reflect, interact.
- TO. Like the objects they label, your titles are clever and humorous—also thought-provoking. Do they appear at the initial stage of the work and they lead you through? Do you find them after you finish, instead?
- LK. Usually, I name the works after they are completed. Sometimes, titles occur as I go—at least as working titles. Only one piece was named before I began—it was ‘Worship.’ The pun was the impetus for the art, as I was watching Navy ships being sent out as an empty threat. ‘War ship’ became synonymous with worshipping power, violence, money. The piece shows a model sailboat hull that I had previously found in a thrift store, and vintage rifle parts I later bought on Ebay to fit the chosen theme.
Worship, 2017. 33x25x6. Photo by Leah Knecht.
Resin is a medium that Knecht has recently favored. As her art contains such a complexity of stimuli, information, allusions, I am not surprised by her choice of a material apt to keep multiplicity together, unified within a single statement. Resin is both solid and sheer. It allows for a great number of elements to be piled within a small surface area and to be still visible, thanks to transparency.
“I invite the viewer to think about what is hidden beneath surface appearances, and what is illusion,” Knecht says in one of her artist statements.
A critique of idolatry and the worshipping of false myths runs throughout her work—very evident, for instance, in the Consumerate series, which includes whimsical sculptures made out of ephemeral matter, waste and trash. Packing foam, mostly polystyrene, is used to build pompous architectures painted in gilded, glittery shades. Pieces like ‘Circuitious’ and ‘Templerary’ seem to allude to the phony, impermanent quality of the digital world we currently adore. “This series,” says Knecht, “is a comment on our consumerist society, so I use recycled materials. Even trash can be made interesting or useful! I have used ‘trash’ in my art since the 80’s.”
‘Porch of Maidens’, in the Sculpturate section, uses Barbie dolls as temple caryatids with a same intention/effect. Again, the artist ironizes about our cult of a consumer item—and biased depiction of womanhood—treated as marble but made of plastic instead. Sculpturate includes 3D works of various kinds—mannequins, robots, small size assemblages. Some are funny. Some are poetic and lyrical, like the elegant vessel of ‘Worship’ or ‘Garden of Eden’—a small scrap of faux-paradise impaled like a stilt cabin above a free-form, wild, chaotic fragment of Earth.
- TO. I am intrigued by ‘Garden of Eden’. What does this tiny garden, kind of artificial, perched upon a decaying scrap of earth signify? It is a commentary about environmental issues and what we have done to our planet?
And I am struck by ‘Over’. Can you tell me about it?
- ‘Garden of Eden’ is a piece I made during a sculpture class, and it comments about the human need to connect with nature—though we sometimes prefer the sanitized, safe version, and create our own ideal in our yards and gardens. Real nature can be dangerous, so the bottom portion is unruly natural materials. It included a live snake inside a terrarium when I presented it in class. (I let him go later, because he seemed unhappy). Environmental concerns are a huge part of the natural world, so I added the birds coated in tar.
‘Over’ is autobiographical, which is rare for me, but I was feeling overwhelmed when I created it—by technology, by the expectations placed on women, by the hectic changes occurring in every aspect of our lives. I felt trapped and wanted to fly away, hence the birdcage and wings.
Garden of Eden, 2010, 70x32x22. Photo by Benjamin Simpson.
Lyrical is the general tone of the Assemblate series. These are pieces muted in color, mostly built out of wooden artifacts—old toys, luggage, boxes, even a typographer drawer. Here Knecht’s conscious choice of utilizing found objects in order “to show the beauty of the craftsmanship and the design sensibilities” is most openly expressed. “I love to preserve bits of history,” she says in one of her statements. This work exudes nostalgia, maybe of a pre-digital era. It invokes the past not just by its generous display of memorabilia—also by an abundance of holes, cavities and recesses rather than glossy surfaces.
A few pieces inspired by pop music—old vinyl, guitars, radios—stand out because of a more vibrant palette. But they still evoke a by-gone era.
Through this ‘retro’ lens, though, the artist doesn’t cease to address burning themes like gender, gun culture, media culture, and anti-immigration laws. History and its layering only seem to make these issues deeper, more ‘radical’—as the pieces on fake news, shaped out of old radios and dated 2016, clearly exemplify.
- TO. There are lots of found objects in your work. Have you always gathered old artifacts? Where from?
- Many of my old objects were rescued from my grandparents after they passed. My parents wanted to throw most of them out, including the audio/film equipment, and the percolator that serves as a head for my most popular functional assemblage, ‘Servatron.’ I find some things at flea markets, garage sales and thrift stores. If I need something specific, Ebay works well.
- I am looking at ‘Barriers’. It is such a strong commentary about gender, yet made of so delicate elements. Can you say something about the Japanese imagery/artifacts that compose this piece?
- All the artifacts in ‘Barriers’ were from my Japanese grandparents—including the box, the patterned silk backing, brushes, sculptural face, and the Hanko block. My grandmother became an artist in her eighties, but she had many barriers to overcome before she felt confident to create her own art, including the traditional ones concerning women, which are written on the chopsticks. She also had barriers that were more specific to Japanese American women, such as Executive Order9066 (The Internment Order). My grandparents escaped to Illinois, but they lost everything, and had to start over.
- TO. Tell me a bit about your relationship with music. Do you associate music with your social and political sensibility? If yes, how?
- I love music. It can spark creativity, plus I do like music that has a message, so subconsciously maybe there is a link between the music I listen to and the themes I express through my art.
- TO. In order to make pieces so refined and complex as yours, I believe careful planning is needed. How are your pieces born? Do you do sketch them until you achieve a final project? Do you start building after you know exactly how you will proceed? In which phase does the part of serendipitous finding/collecting/connecting elements occur?
- You’re right about careful planning. I do a blueprint of sorts for many of my pieces. Some involve quite a bit of math. For example, my ‘Mortal Sin’ has deactivated ammo and mirror tiles of fixed sizes, so I had to figure out dimensions that would leave multiples of both intact. That determines the size of the piece, and then I build a mold. I had to have the ammo and mirrors first, in that case. Most of my Resinate series is built around the main objects I plan to include. Since they take much planning and time, sometimes I do an assemblage in between, as a release of sorts. Assemblages are freer, though some still involve planning.
Barriers, 2018, 18x8x2. Photo by Leah Knecht.
Paintings includes works inspired by Pasadena, the town where Knecht was born and lives. Some of them portray vintage signs (diner, bowling joint, movie theater, pawn shop, toy train store)—urban landmarks from the fifties and sixties. Earlier works are based on photos Knecht took of the old downtown—then Skid Row—while it was gentrified. These are 4×6 feet in size and weigh up to 200 lbs. They are impressive pieces. Consistently with the rest of Knecht’s art, they incorporate real objects—with the same technique used in Resinate—therefore functioning as reliquaries or archives. They are thick with layers, overlapping many architectural strata. Windows-within-the-painting expose old vestigia. This coexistence of time dimensions gives depth to the image, and it makes the built environment tell stories, come alive.
- TO. Where does your fascination with architectural layers come from? Did you travel through countries where the past is more present than in the US? Perhaps early in life? Or is it a form of attention that you have developed locally?
- I did spend a lot of time in Mexico as a child. I saw the pyramids there and in Guatemala. The decay, yet beauty of them, was intriguing.
Here, in Pasadena, we had beautiful historic buildings that had become dilapidated—in the area of downtown referred to as a ‘Skid Row’. It was actually a lively area, where many artists lived. When the area began to be gentrified, sometimes buildings were internally gutted, keeping just the facades. I photographed many of them before and during the transition. Then interiors became very upscale, but sterile. We as a species have always built over other civilizations. We are covering the earth with our monuments that will decay eventually, just like the pyramids I saw as a child. So that is where the layering comes from, and why I add lots of Roman and Greek elements to reference history.
Knecht was asked by MTA’s Metro Arts and Design division to submit work to the “Through the Eyes of Artists” series for 2019. These are neighborhood posters—designed by artists—that are placed on buses and trains. Her work was selected as the winning piece, and was placed on all L.A. County buses to represent Altadena (a town just North of Pasadena). Not surprisingly, as few artists are as connected as she is to the history and geography of this specific area. She has explored and documented its particular combination of landscape, architecture and humanity throughout her art—which might sound paradoxical for someone so attuned to worldwide concerns. Evidently, she could see the functioning of society at large through the lens of a single community—once again, a matter of transparency.
Knecht’s portfolio includes Portraits as well. Oil meticulously painted on glass, some are screened by miniature window frames, some overlap collaged photographs and personal mementos. They resemble icons, or rather altars, but not of the devotional kind. Very human, they both question and affirm, ‘what is beyond a person’. Is she made by her history? Her memories? Our memory of her? Yet more layers to explore, discover, reveal.
Porch of Maidens. 2016, 76x36x3. Photo by J6 Creative
Manifest Destiny
Kid A
http://www.leahknecht-art.com/
About the author:
Toti O’Brien is the Italian Accordionist with the Irish Last Name. She was born in Rome then moved to Los Angeles, where she makes a living as a self-employed artist, performing musician and professional dancer. Her work has most recently appeared in Colorado Boulevard, JMWW, Cloud Women, and Zingara Poetry Review.
Art: Leah Knecht