Insiders and Outliers in Art
Before 2022 ended, I saw an exhibit in which I found it hard to tell who was the supposed “insider” artist and who was the so-called “outsider” or “outlier.” I’ve been pondering these terms ever since. In statistics, an outlier is a data point that differs significantly from other observations. It might be due to measurement variability, novel data, or experimental error. In art, I understand outliers as coming from a different perspective and creating work that may be novel or experimental when compared to conventional artwork. [all photos by Mirka Knaster]
Felted Spheres (2022), by Caitlin McKee.
I didn’t know what to expect when I drove to view Follow the String at Marin MOCA (Museum of Contemporary Art) in Novato, a community north of San Francisco. An email announcing the show had informed me that it was developed in partnership with Cedars and NIAD Art Center, two Bay Area-based progressive studio programs for adults with developmental disabilities. But, as I walked around, I came across certain works that looked familiar. Suddenly, I was confused. At the galleries where I had seen them before, there was no mention of disability. At Marin MOCA, it was challenging to distinguish between those artists and the ones purported to be “disabled.” The line between the professionals and the non-professionals was certainly blurred. I might have been at any other fiber art show I’d visited in the Greater Bay Area over the last few years.
Flamingos (2022), by Keisha White.
Acrylic and fabric on canvas.
En el Ojo del Cóndor (2021), by Miguel Arzabe.
Woven acrylic on Yupo.
Lion Chair (2018), by Dorian Reid. Embroidered fabric, yarn, batting on found chair.
In the description below each image, I am purposely leaving out whether the artist is associated with a gallery or social services program. If you don’t recognize the names of some of the professional artists involved, it makes several questions even more relevant: Who can be called an artist? Is it art only when appearing in a gallery or museum? If you do not have art degrees but create artwork, are you still considered an artist? Is there a final arbiter about what is art and who is an artist?
Rise and Grind (2022), by Cora Lautze.
Silkscreen mesh and thread.
If Spanish artist Pablo Picasso (1881-1973) had created the figures below, would you have a different appreciation of them?
Mrs. Puppet-Head (2017) and Mr. Puppet-Head (2019), by Anna Price. Cardboard, acrylic paint, paper mâché, wood, hardware.
Looking at the simple lines in the three works below, I can’t help but think of Swiss artist Paul Klee (1879-1940). Was he an outlier in his time? Is an artist an outsider because s/he is creating abstract art when classical figurative work is de rigeur or vice versa; or if the artist is a person of color or mixed gender identity or is differently abled?
Untitled (2022), by Carlota Rodriguez (top). Embroidery on raw canvas. Celebration and Tree, by Jean Coury (bottom left and right). Ink on paper; cotton embroidery thread and fabric.
Detail of Tree, by Jean Coury.
If you create work with beads, reminiscent of traditional Native American work, are you an outlier artist because you don’t paint or sculpt? What do materials have to do with whether one is an artist or not?
10,000 Hours, by Glenna Cooper. Seed beads, found cane and thread.
Detail of 10,000 Hours, by Glenna Cooper.
Dark Suit (2019), by Cora Lautze. Vinyl.
Respite 4 (6 Month Exposure) Berkeley (2020), by Chris Duncan. Acrylic and direct sunlight on fabric.
Timepieces, by Gail Lefevre. Handwoven yardage.
If you work with materials generally associated with “domestic crafts,” are you a homemaker, not an artist?
Detail of Timepieces, by Gail Lefevre.
The curators of the exhibition consider Follow the String “a snapshot” of what the interest in fiber art looks like these days. They believe it “bridges communities,” from a lineage that began in the counter-cultural movements of the 1960s and 1970s, and serves as “a means to achieve a more inclusive society.” After all, thread is “a simple and powerful metaphor for connectivity. As individuals we are strands; as communities we are intertwined.”
Still Life, by Donna Gilberti. Cardboard, colored pencil, ink.
Made in Mexico; Xicanx and the Second(hand)-Generation (2020), by Kira Dominguez Hultgren. Handspun wool and other novelty yarns, used denim (Mexico), silk (India), gas and cotton pipelines, found bars and wire, straps.
Detail of Made in Mexico; Xicanx and the Second(hand)-Generation (2020), by Kira Dominguez Hultgren.
Flowered Thorns #4 (2020/21),
by Ramekon O’Arwisters.
Fabric and ceramics.
Mysterious Dream Catcher (top), Frustration Dream Catcher (bottom left), Dream Catcher (right), by Julie Cory.
Reed, string, adhesive, acrylic paint.
Detail of Frustration Dream Catcher, by Julie Cory.
Untitled (2022), by Felicia Griffin. Yarn, fabric, mesh.
One of the aspects of fiber arts that I appreciate is that it breaks down arbitrary barriers—between women’s work and men’s work, between art and craft, between fine arts and domestic arts. To “follow the string” is a way not only to create interesting and beautiful art but also to democratize the art world, to defy the exclusiveness accorded to only a few individuals in a few world centers.
It would be great to have you see all the work in Follow the String, but the exhibit ended on December 23 and I can’t include everything here. But I hope these images give you pause and stimulate questions about who makes art.
Questions & Comments:
As an artist or a lover of art, how much difference do labels such as “outsider” or “insider” make to you?
How would you define “insider” and “outlier” in reference to art and artists?
Who are your favorite outliers?
