Lindsey Clark-Ryan

Tell us a little about your background.

I’m a printmaker and multidisciplinary artist based in Massachusetts. I grew up in Bradenton, on the Gulf Coast of Florida, earned a BFA in Printmaking and English at Washington University in St. Louis and an MFA at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. I’m an Associate Professor of Art at Smith College, where I have taught since 2011.

When did you know you were an artist?
Since I was very young, I have always had some sort of “project” going. I gravitated toward any opportunity to take art classes at school or otherwise, and I had (and continue to have) supportive family, friends, and surroundings. I had strong interests in science, literature, and writing as well, but I knew I would be an artist in some capacity regardless, as it is inherent to how I think about and move through the world.

Was there a pivotal moment for you?
Perhaps time is just running together on me, but in recent years I have been considering more deeply the ongoingness of creative work and all the forms that can take, rather than a discrete menu of production. In this sense, the same moment can fluctuate between pivotal and mundane.

Where do you find inspiration?
Anywhere, if I can be in a state of mind ready to notice when one thing connects, often unexpectedly, to something else. I’m about to start work on an artist’s book that has grown out of an afternoon spent digging up rocks in the yard.

What is your favorite medium?
I don’t play favorites, but I have a deep appreciation for the distinct experiences and thoughts made possible by the qualities of any medium or material. I especially love the moment of surprise encounter with a texture, weight, form, color, or object that clicks into some connection waiting in my mind/hands.

Can you describe your process?
I make print and installation-based projects that are both highly process-oriented and often faced with accident, disorientation, or unpredictability, much like printmaking itself. This duality of control and chance is a core dynamic of my art practice and teaching in all areas, and the actual working process varies significantly from project to project.

Recently, in the work currently exhibited at the museum, I have explored the connections between print, paper, and how we conceive of space. How that process—through layering, folds, and a relationship to pressure, atmosphere, and gravity—can express the tautness and delicacy of experience and, eventually, communication. Further, working with stencil and monotype on folded paper allows for adaptation and flexibility, but requires continuous diagramming and calculation that a fixed matrix would not. In this way, the tenuousness and constant reorientation is embodied in the process.