Meet Connor Walden | Artist & Collaborator

We had the good fortune of connecting with Connor Walden and we’ve shared our conversation below.

Hi Connor, how do you think about risk?
I’m in constant dialogue with risk. My point of origin seems to be prioritizing safety, staying comfortable, observing from the bushes, and trying to maintain control in the known. And yet, when I push beyond these lines of comfort and take a risk, life gushes through. Sometimes the gush is a crush, sometimes that gush is a gash, or a rush, or a mush, or a whoosh, or a touché. But encountering the unknown, that is the risk.

My definition of faith has developed over the years to be this: faith is the belief in life beyond the unknown. In my life and in my art, this close encounter with the unknown is always preceded by anxiety, but once walked through (always a struggle it seems), creativity persistently waits on the other side. There is a consistent point in my creative cycle where I get to my studio and feel like I don’t know where to begin. I’ve been making work for over a decade now—and sometimes I feel like the ideas are endless!—and yet, the beautiful mystery of the blank space, to be vulnerable and confront myself and my materials, this is where art really happens.

My art has developed into an inherently risky business: in the beginning I play with the materials (steel, yarn, color, weight) and let my intuition flow, not knowing where it will go, risking materials, time, money, effort, flow, failure, etc. When the piece lands on the wall, it hangs there, toying with gravity from its handholds, clinging to life for fear of falling to the floor. But grace holds its posture.

I think the most risky thing we can do is be completely honest with ourselves, addressing the gravity in order to find grace; the second most risky thing is being totally honest with those whom we love and encounter. Whenever I am honest with my deepest self, I believe that the risk is worth it.

Alright, so let’s move onto what keeps you busy professionally?
Artist Statement: My recent body of work investigates the relationship between steel and yarn, two materials I learned to work with from my grandfather and grandmother, respectively. The gendered expectations fostered by these complimentary people set up a false dichotomy of strength and gentleness I continue to contemplate in my studio and in my life.

Playfully and intuitively made, the Cradle Series makes visible our relationships, exploring the origins of tension in ourselves passed down to us by our ancestors. This concept is manifested through bent steel and knit motifs, revealing the beauty of tangled bonds. Space is captured and held by the sculpture’s clean lines and hard edges, becoming a cherished character in each work.

Gravity is the consistent, invisible agent of this body of work, both through the tactile, kinetic element of the freestanding sculptures and the seemingly precarious wall mounts inspired by rock climber’s handholds. It is gravity that pulls the pieces into a moment of equilibrium. Subjected to repeated oscillation and reconciliation with the omnipresent forces of physics, the sculptures come to rest.

Throughout this body of work, I am interested in how our interior worlds are affected by external interactions and the interplay between the two. While the cradles we were nurtured in is where the external pours into the interior, these Cradle sculptures illuminate the interior to see what is truly ours.

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I got to where I am today because of the many people in my life who show up and engage with my art and who I am, confronting me and comforting me no matter where I am on the journey. I would say my faith in the studio process—a trust that something will emerge out of nothing—is a mysterious process that continues to prevail whenever I put in the time and make the space for it.

The lesson I’ve been learning since moving to LA is how the hustle affects me as a person and as an artist. Relationships and community are so important to me, but I find at times that balancing the work needed to afford my time in LA can be challenging to balance with alone time, studio time, and community time.

I think the most important challenge I’m still running into is knowing which voices to listen to when it comes to my art. When I’m in my studio, I trust my voice which becomes clear in the process. At the same time, I have several strong voices in my head that are normally a boon for my practice; but sometimes what floats your boat sinks your ship, so I have to be careful to not let those close bonds prevent me from the adventure, and make sure the vulnerable phases of the art making is focused on a spirit of liberation. But, like most artists, my chimerical pursuit often leads to a multitude of attitudes, resulting in a cycle of “I love being an artist, I’m so amazing!” to “what am I doing with my life?? I’m so bad at this, and I’m so broke, and nobody likes me,” and everything in between. To quote Gungor, “Love the rise and fall, I want to feel it all”, so I try to be present through it all and let my art bloom out of the waves.

My art longs for unity, belonging, repair. Sometimes I feel like if we can see the lines between us (gender, religion, money, etc.) that we can remember that these lines are traversable and permeable, that the distance keeps us safe, and that life exists at the edge of our comfort zone. This is why the traditional Hawaiian Hoʻoponopono prayer is my bio on Instagram: my prayer for the world is that we can repair the bonds that have separated us from ourselves and one another.

||: i am sorry | please forgive me | thank you | i love you :||

If you had a friend visiting you, what are some of the local spots you’d want to take them around to?
Shoutout to my partner, Emma, who showed me pretty much all of the places I’m going to mention: Start with coffee and breakfast at Highly Likely in West Adams, then go to my studio down the street for a studio visit, then go to lunch at Sonoratown for tacos in Mid City, followed by a trip to the Getty for an afternoon of art and architecture, followed by dinner at Dan Sung Sa in K Town for stellar Korean food (get the gingko nuts!), go to Somi Somi down the road for the best taro and ube Ah-Boong ice cream, spending the evening at Wi Spa for spa time and take a nap before a night cap of tea with Tea at Shiloh for chill, cool people.

The Shoutout series is all about recognizing that our success and where we are in life is at least somewhat thanks to the efforts, support, mentorship, love and encouragement of others. So is there someone that you want to dedicate your shoutout to?
My first shout out is to my long time collaborator, Tiffany Danielle Elliott, and our major collaborative projects. I took a huge risk after grad school (which, in and of itself, was quite the risk) and chose to stay in Seattle to start the seattle residency project with Tiffany. The seattle residency project (tsrp) was an introductory project to experiment with ideas of creative community to inform a future residency/think tank. As it happened, tsrp began in February 2020 right before the COVID pandemic; so after our first cycle of residents, we quickly pivoted to Interloper where we created a network of exhibitions and a podcast where we expanded the conversations around saying the things you’re not supposed to say. We created 4 temporary exhibition spaces, put on 6 exhibitions, produced 16 podcast episodes, paid artists for their art, and had important conversations central to our experiences as humans in Seattle. Stemming from an audacious posture, we just made these projects happen and learned everything we needed to along the way by being resourceful, creative, and available. Tiffany and I make a great team, and I think the most crucial part is that we are honest with ourselves and with one another when we are together. We allow room for imagination, play, feedback, risk, and failure, and our friendship continues to send me to the moon whenever I feel buried. Thank you, Tiffany!!

My second shoutout it is to my friends Mary Boo Anderson and Zoë Blair-Schlagenhauf with the IKEA residency. Not only did this opportunity connect me with a new friend and collaborator, Krista Villatoro, but I became part of a network of cohorts comprised of amazing artists in LA who are doing similar things. I knew when I moved to LA it would take time for me to find my people, and I trusted they were here—they had to be, LA is so big! And I felt that with IKEA residency I found my people at last <3 I love y’all!

My third shoutout is to my studio mate, Anthony Miserendino, who has been a constant force and friend throughout my time of making art in LA. He is a testament to what an LA artist can be, pushing me in how I think about my art and how to balance it with my life. He is the most strategic, meticulous, and measured artist I know. Moreover, I get to witness what a healthy and dynamic relationship with a gallery can look like. There is hope!

Website: https://www.connorwaldenart.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/connor_walden/

Image Credits
Personal Photo Credit: Emma Peters