LC: You were awarded a residency at the Wassaic Project in January 2024. What did you take away from that experience and how did it affect your artistic practice?

HWL: Wassaic was the first in what was a long string of residencies later that year and Jeff, Bowie, and Eve were so open and forthcoming about Wassaic, that it set a really warm and generous tone. I think this is what feels most special about the experience here. We were introduced to everyone and you got this sense of a small, but dedicated team working to build an incredible experience. It makes everything seem more human and it is inspiring in the way it is to watch artists scrap something together because they all really believe in something!

Within the first few days, I remember taking an incredibly long walk. I walked all the way to and through Amenia. Long walks as a way of settling in and readjusting to a new landscape were something I found myself doing at nearly every residency after.

LC: You are a multidisciplinary artist with training and an interest in garments and textiles. How would you describe the range of disciplines in your artwork and how fashion and fiber play a part?‍

HWL: I suppose I am somewhere between a conceptual and materially driven artist. I’m not sure which comes before the other. Sometimes it’s a subject of interest that becomes an excuse to work with new materials and techniques, and sometimes it’s a floating interest in a very specific technique that I begin to build conceptual frameworks around. I often use fashion as a language with which I move through all of the work. In graduate school, my advisor would always say that everything always comes back to the body. I like the vocabulary of all these things we do with fabric—draping, patterning, dressing, wearing, folding, pleating—and then attempting to apply these actions to other objects or bodies. Fashion is the way we meet the world; it’s clothing, but it’s also accessories and tools and furniture and pop culture and sound. It's something that will exist as long as humans do. Fashion is so universal—we all participate in it—but also so incredibly individual.

LC: Your recent work has involved the creation of beautifully elaborate kites, which you fly in the open sky. What are your associations with this format and the experience of flying a kite?

HWL: The simplest way to describe it all is to just say that the work is ultimately about freedom. Thinking from an institutional standpoint, this allows me to be in a lot more control of how and when I want to show my work. Now I am very fortunate to be offered shows and be invited to display my work in a variety of places, but I always hold on to this idea that even if everyone were to forget me, that I would always be able to fly my work in the sky. We can all share in that experience. I don’t need validation from a white cube or museum and there’s so much power in that. It’s a reminder to myself to also know what is worth my time and what kinds of
places are in alignment with my values.

From an experiential standpoint, the experience of flying a kite literally puts me in connection with the world! I feel the wind, it forces me to be outside, and I’m in dialogue with the natural phenomena around me. It’s incredibly life-giving. I think everyone should try making and flying kites!

LC: An interest in directional concepts and the human body in relationship to the environment both seem to run through your work. In this installation, you have chosen to display your work, “Two Can Share Heaven”, as ‘flying’, and anchored in the voluminous interior space of this mill building as opposed to flying in the outdoor environment or displayed flat against a wall. Does this installation relate to your thoughts about and investigation of directional orientation and the body in its environment?‍

HWL: I’m always a bit unsure whether the kites belong indoors or not. I like the idea that they might be objects you only experience outdoors. I think what this kind of installation does offer is that it reorients the body of the viewer upwards. There’s something spectacular about the act of gazing upwards or craning your neck to see something really high up. It’s almost spiritual; it’s the feeling you get looking up at the sun and clouds or flocks of birds.

I’ve hung kites flat against the wall before and I think in that orientation, their relationship to the body as clothing does become more evident. They look like objects you can enter. But there’s much less belief in their ability to fly.

LC: This kite is a sewn collage of elements from your own artistic practice and repurposed multimedia additions that create a rich cohesive impression. You also must have to consider the aerodynamics of the kite so that it can fly. Can you briefly describe your kite-making process and your distinctive use of materials?

HWL: When I started designing this kite, I had two things in mind: I didn’t want to buy any new fabrics and I wanted it to be able to be worn by two people at once. When it comes to wearability, this usually means first deciding how the body enters a form and then thinking of ways that this form can return to a relatively flat shape. I used to work with more traditional patternmaking techniques involving bodice and skirt blocks to draft my patterns, but more and more I’ve come to favor a simple circle as an opening that the head enters.

With regards to the fabric, I’m really happy to have this piece here on exhibit because the yellow fabrics that make up the main body of the kite were actually sewn and dyed in Wassaic over a year ago during my residency for an entirely separate exhibition. After that exhibition, the fabrics sat in a box for over half a year before I decided to reuse them for this new work. It’s all turmeric-dyed, which responds to and fades in sunlight, so I’m curious how this piece may continue to transform over time as well.