email website address: University of Iowa, School of Art & Art History,
Iowa City, IA 52242
biographical
sketch
Sue
Hettmansperger was born in 1948, in Akron, Ohio, and lived near there
for nine years as a child. She spent the rest of her years growing
up in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where the family moved for her younger
sister's health. She received her B.F.A. (1972) and M.A. (1974) from
the University of New Mexico, in Lithography and Drawing. She has
been teaching at the University of Iowa Art
Department since 1977, and continues her own painting and drawing.
She is in a committed relationship. She is a national affiliate with
A.I.R. gallery, the first women's co-op gallery in New York. At the
time of the interview, she was on a faculty scholar awarda leave
of absence from teaching for three semesters.
How has your life changed in the years since I interviewed you?
It has become more stable in relationships, but more poignantly felt that “life on earth is brief,” quoting from a friend. As a senior faculty member at a research institution, there has been an increasing amount of administrative work. I continue to carve out time to work in the studio.
What kind of artwork are you doing now?
I am trying to make work that speaks of the current cultural moment and embodies the ability of painting to reveal this disjunctive and open-ended space as it is continually reinvented.
How has your artwork changed in the last ten years?
The work I made ten years ago was following the scientific approach of paring nature down to its singular underlying micro truths. Since then, my awareness of chaos theory, systems of complexity, and the digital arena have changed my approach. I would say that the images have become increasingly in flux, hybridized and collaged.
What motivates you to continue making art?
As I said in other words ten years ago, there is an inner freedom in exploring visual invention, an interesting place to explore the self and the world.
The language of painting embodies the morphology of form through process, materiality and its collaboration with the structure of space. Walking the line between abstraction and representation, the imagery of this series refers to the human body, botany, digital distortion, and manufactured objects. The internal rationale of the painting changes and shifts, as though the form travels through a topologically stretched space, changing its shape in accordance with unseen mathematical operations. Hybrid chimeric images acknowledge a
present ethos of genetic and digital manipulation, reflecting the complex relationship of humans to their environment. This work seeks to mirror a current cultural perspective in which boundaries between organisms are increasingly blurred, and our awareness of digitally altered images makes us question the truthfulness of everything we see in visual culture. Musing on the interdependence of human and botanical, organic and inorganic systems in a conflicted embrace, this series provokes thought about cultural attitudes and perceptions of our place within nature.
We lived
on a dirt, dead-end road which was very significant. And there were
little kids in the neighborhood, and we would all do things together.
And then when we moved to New Mexico, nature became all consuming; it
was huge. So it was just a quiet, rural kind of upbringing, as opposed
to the city, and I value that a lot.
I was always
one of those ones that wanted to demonstrate my skill and be like the
classroom skilled person in terms of drawing things. So I just always
was trying hard, I guess, to get attention, to get love, towhatever,
and I guess that was a way to do it. There weren't any art museums I
think at that time in Albuquerque, and museum-going wasn't an activity
that we had. It was only when I got out of high school and into the
university that I realized that these institutions existed outside and
that this thing could go on a lot further than I had imagined.
When I
got to the University, I was thinking in the practical sense, what can
you do that will get you a job? So I was taking art as my minor and
journalism as the major. And then by the time I was a juniorI
think it was the foment of that time period and the interest in philosophical
ideasand suddenly I realized that I was this impractical idealist
and that I really wanted to go into art, which was very impractical,
and not use it as a commercial venue. In all my classes, we were talking
about Duchamp and Rauschenberg and all of this exciting avant garde
stuff that was happening. And learning about that was quite an eye-openernew
ways of seeing the world, new ways of thinking about things, ways of
questioning the status quoall of that stuff was just so interesting
to me.
Childrendefinitely
they need all your attention, and I just couldn't do that. I had a couple
of opportunities to do that, and I just couldn't see how I could continue
to do this at the level that I wanted to do it. I've always had this
ambition to be at the highest level of the field. And I just could not
imagine being able to do that. I don't know how it would have been.
Maybe it would have been the same. Maybe I'm missing out on something
really great. And I have those thoughts, too. And those moments are
very hard. I don't know. I have to think that I've made the right decision.
I don't think everybody is meant to just automatically fulfill their
biological destiny that way.
It's very
difficult to actually see your work for really truly what it is. Early
on, the feeling that as a young woman you're supposed to please everyone,
my work was very pleasing. And now, hopefully, I've crossed over into
a realm where I can do exactly what I want to do, whether or not it's
disquieting to others. It
celebrates things in life. But at the same time I feel like I try to
interject a disjunctive element, a difficulty, which is reflective of
my life experience and what I see going on in the world and in the culture
at large.
Some of
the earlier plants that were floating with their roots sort of upended
and disoriented have also been a metaphor for my life, I suppose. I
think that this generation has had to reinventmaybe all generations
do, reinvent what is true. So there's a bit of a feminist thing, tooa
sort of celebration of the life of a woman artist trying to define herself
and her relationship to her world.
I think
some of my happiest times as a human being have been when I'm coming
up with an idea and making it in visual form. It's the result of a long
learning process. I go to books a lot for ideas and sometimes for imageryscience
books and things like that. Being able to put something together like
that and come up with something that no one's ever seen beforean
image that's new in a sensethere's something very exciting about
being able to do that, and satisfying.
If I weren't
an artist I would probably be either a biologist or an environmental
activist. I've done some environmental activism, too. But that lacks
this sort of creative spark. It's a more practical, analytical realm.
I like the analytical and the intuitive being brought to art.
I think
that there are unrealistic expectations for artists to be constantly
cranking out imagery all day, everyday, you know, every year, year after
year. I think that that's why we see some work which is just redundant.
For me, you have cyclic periodsit's a rollercoaster, actually.
You can be at a very low point where you're not very inspired to do
anything. Those times are difficult. Although the older I get the more
I'm able to go through those periods and still make things to a certain
extent, because I feel like I've learned more what to do at those times.
You read a book, and then you're inspired again. I'll go for a walk
in nature and bring back things to the studio to work from. Because
you're constantly coming up against new ideas in your life, and so your
work should reflect a kind of discovery process of what you've learned
up to that point in your life and how it can be manifested in an object.