‘This Land is Your Land[fill]’
September 20, 2007
By Lauren LaRocca , News-Post Staff

Nadya Volicer, 28, grew up in Bedford, Mass., and is now living in Westford, Mass. She is currently in Prague, Czech Republic, studying the Czech language and spending time with family.

Q: When did you notice your fascination with "junk," for lack of a better word? Did you collect weird things as a kid or become immersed in the green movement or simply like the aesthetics of worn/used items?

A: My fascination with junk did begin long ago, maybe influenced in part by my dad's sense of history within objects, but also the fun of making and the necessity of finding stuff with which to create. When I was younger, cardboard boxes, particularly gift boxes or decorative boxes, served as the vehicle for many creations. In college, this sensibility returned with my attraction to painted wood I saw in peoples' trash on collection night. I lived in Boston and it seemed many homeowners were renovating old spaces and throwing out boards of wonderful hues and flaking paint that truly just drew me to them aesthetically. Also, the potential they held as a useful material was enticing. Still, I was not necessarily thinking about the green movement or even recycling at that time. It was, as you said, more about the aesthetics of worn/used items and the possible content in terms of history, memory and nostalgia, for example.

Q: I would venture to say your work makes a statement other than beauty. What is that statement? Is it a conscious effort or do you create things for the sake of beauty, without considering their deeper implications?

A: The piece at McDaniel makes the most direct statement I have ever ventured to make thus far. I have fun while creating an installation and I do step back and make visual decisions regarding color or texture, but I am not making work about beauty. "This Land is Your Land[fill]" is referencing the Woodie Guthrie folk song about America and suggesting that this land, "from sea to shining sea," is turning into a landfill because of the way we are addressing, or not addressing, our consumption and waste. That said, I am making work that I hope will interest the viewer visually long enough for them to consider the possible broader implications of the piece.

Q: Why build installations on a whim? How does that free you or confine you as a visual artist?

A: I build installations on-site in various ways. In some cases I am able to visit the site beforehand and take pictures and measurements so that more of the work may be done in my studio. If I have this option I am able to build modularly and install in the space in a shorter period of time. As far as the show at McDaniel, I was not able to visit the site ahead of time for logistical reasons and thus had only a floor plan with measurements and images of previous shows in the space. In this case, I was able to conceptualize a bit in preparation for working down there but anything I built ahead of time needed to be in a flexible enough grid system so that I could easily add to it once I saw what the space truly would allow for in terms of scale, traffic flow, etc. Either way, I feel that building installations and considering the space into which I will install is freeing for me in the way it sets certain parameters that I don't have to determine myself so that I am freed up to focus my energies in other areas. In other words, setting limits is for me a way of making decisions quickly so that I can get right down to making as soon as possible.

Q: Movement and participation seem to be integral parts of your artwork, for people to be somehow inside of a piece, rather than viewing it from the outside. I know what this does for the onlooker; what does it do for you?

A: Viewer participation satisfies my need to feel that I am being inclusive somehow. I want to feel that I am potentially sharing something with the viewer, not necessarily showing them something.

Q: You use a lot of bright colors, which is interesting because of your tendency to also use trash, which stereotypically consists of dark, vague colors. Why bright?

A: I suppose I am attracted to bright colors and in using found materials and limiting myself to them somewhat, I get really excited when I come across brightly colored trash. As for the installation at McDaniel, the Carroll County Arts Center, in particular, donated a whole lot of outdated flyers copied onto brightly colored paper and I got lucky to have them to incorporate into the piece.

Q: Do you recycle anything the way non-artists recycle (a plastic bin outside your house or a local drop-off recycling station)? Or do you salvage everything yourself? Do you walk through junkyards? Do you have a preference between natural or manmade materials (driftwood or 2x4's)?

A: In my day-to-day life, I do try to recycle into the usual blue bins and public containers as much as possible. I used to primarily salvage on my own from roadside trash collection and dumpsters, but as more people I know discovered I was looking for these things, I would get donations and phone calls about basements full of old wood to which I was welcome. Junkyards in Massachusetts don't tend to let you just go shopping, but on Deer Isle, Maine, where I participated in a workshop at Haystack Mountain School of Crafts, the dump is sensational and organized, and we were allowed to scavenge to our hearts' content. That was a lot of fun. I have always tended to lean towards manmade detritus as it is more often contributing to landfills than driftwood on the beach, and it can have the history of having been part of someone's house or a building at one time.

Q: How long have you been creating this type of stuff (recycled installations/exhibits), and do you see a new phase emerging in your work?

A: I have been using primarily recycled materials since my junior year of college, around 1999. I have been making installations for about that long as well. If there is a new phase emerging in my work, it will be taking the opportunity to be more forward, at least more narrative, in terms of content. I will probably continue to work at this scale and with recycled materials.

Q: If you don't sell a piece, what happens to it?

A: Rarely, with few exceptions, does any part of these installations sell, in whole or in part. What I think I may be able to recycle myself into the next installation, I break down and take with me. Whatever I don't think I can reuse, particularly with the paper installations, I try to ensure finds its way to a recycling center. So far this has been possible. In "This Land is Your Land[fill]" there are components from two previous installations. With the wood installations, I have reused pieces in as many as six different works. It's true that it's really difficult for me to throw anything away which may be potentially useful someday. This may be a psychoanalyst's can of worms. For me it's just the way I work.