10 Questions with Roxane Revon
Roxane Revon is a multi-disciplinary artist. She grew up in France and studied philosophy from La Sorbonne University (MA) before moving to New York, where she started her artistic career as a stage director and continued her education.
For a decade, she has been an award-winning stage director, scenographer, and teacher (Columbia University, CUNY) while working, little by little, on multimedia installations and visual arts. This Fall, she is thrilled to be an artist in residence at the LMCC Art Center on Governors Island. She resides in Manhattan and works between Europe and the US.
Planthroposcene | DESCRIPTION
The "Planthroposcene" installation interrogates the terms "nature" or "environment" that synthesize various realities into a transcendent concept that allows for a utilitarian approach where the human being is at the center of a transactional relationship with a disposable entity. Inspired by scientist Natasha Myers, this installation aims to stage new scenes and ways to see and seed a plant and people relationship in the here and now. By playing with the transparency and reflection of reused transparent acrylic materials in which plant cuttings are growing in water, this installation forms a permanent receptacle for an ever-growing piece. At the center of a rather theatrical installation, the plant's roots are developing and vibrating among human activities, forming a "wander" that gets the audience to move slowly away from a fixed point or mental place to imagine other types of relationships with living beings.
INTERVIEW
First of all, introduce yourself to our readers. When and how did you become an artist? And how has your artistic practice evolved over the years?
There wasn't a shifting moment when I became an "artist" (this word carries many realities and practices). It's a process or a discipline that started a long time ago (as I practiced visual arts at an early age) and has been enriched by my experiences and studies. After completing a Master's degree in Philosophy at La Sorbonne and Roma II, I chose to become a scholar or take the risk to follow another passion of mine: theater and visual arts. I started a career as a theater and opera director ten years ago in New York and found myself limited in my aesthetic experiments by the heavy and complicated production process and the frame of storytelling. Little by little, I had the intuition that I was more interested in visual arts, scenography, and setting atmospheres that would allow for a different time and space to appear. The covid year has been a big shift in my artistic practice as I developed many new concepts and experiments that are now at the center of my work.
You work between the USA and Europe, but you have been living in New York for a while. How much of these two different cultures can be found in your work? Where do you feel more "at home"?
I was born and raised in France and traveled throughout Europe in my youth. Every time I'm away from Europe for too long, I have this terrible longing, a feeling that something is missing (perhaps a historical depth and the everyday richness of landscapes, architectures, and atmospheres). I definitely developed my sensibility and creativity in France and during my travels in Italy, Spain, Portugal, Greece, Austria, Hungary, Germany, Netherland, and all the wonderful cities and countries I had the honor to visit. The Mediterranean landscapes are especially close to my heart since I was raised in Provence (from a Tunisian mother and French father). I'm very influenced by the historical richness of European landscapes and cities, but I feel completely free to experiment in New York.
In terms of creative freedom, I feel at home in New York, where there are fewer cultural constraints, and my mind feels less framed and pressured by "good taste" or institutional art trends.
Your work mainly focuses on nature and the environment, as well as the human presence in it. How much do you think art can help further develop and raise awareness on important subjects, like environmental issues and the impact of human activities on our Planet?
It's always a bit tricky as an artist to "raise awareness" because, even though most subjects are political, the creative impulse comes from a need to develop deeper, honest, sometimes intimate levels of consciousness. The words "environment" or "nature" are quite complicated to me as well. They synthesize various realities into a transcendent, higher concept ("Deus sive Natura" said Spinoza) that allowed for a utilitarian approach of Nature. Nowadays, in seminars on biodiversity or COPs, we often hear that the main powerful argument to make things change is that "our '' natural environment serves and helps us. The human being is always at the center of a transactional relationship with a disposable entity. The French anthropologist Philippe Descola did a wonderful work showing other types of relationships between humans and plants. and I was particularly fascinated by his long study of the Achuar population in Amazonia.
Of course, I have a human sensor system, and my point of view will always be the one of a human, but, as an artist, I'm looking for mental spaces to imagine other types of relationships with living beings. I want to cultivate a state of creativity where these relationships can take many forms (sometimes emotional, sometimes mystical, sometimes rational) without justifying my endeavours. If it becomes a bit contagious, it's good. In that sense, and because art can raise our mind, body, spirit to other levels of consciousness, it can help develop and raise awareness (or even change our ways of living sometimes).
In your latest series, PLANTHROPOSCENE, you use acrylic materials and plants to reflect on the relationship between human activities and nature. What other themes do you want to explore? And what messages are you trying to convey with your art?
The term "planthroposcene" was developed by the scientist and artist Natasha Myers as "an aspirational episteme" that invites us "to stage new scenes and ways to see and seed a plant and people relationship in the here and now"(How to grow livable world). I'm neither a photographer nor a beaux-arts artist per se. I'm a stage director who has chosen to stage and explore persons/plants relationships, I guess.
I've always loved to explore scripts from the theater of the absurd, symbolism, magical realism, or the lyric and poetic theater of Giraudoux. It allowed me to develop atmospheres and moments on stage in which time and space took another turn or dimension. I don't think I convey one message in my practice, and I don't know yet what other themes I'll be exploring, I just try to open new spaces in which universal themes (such as relationships, time, love, life, and death for instance) can be re-inhabited/re-invested.
Climate changes are an urgent issue we need to address globally. Is there any everyday practice you implement both in your life and your work as an artist to fight climate changes? Any technique, material or process you find particularly helpful in this regard?
I mainly reuse materials to create my sculptures or installations. Almost all my transparent structures are made of reused covid safety plexiglass panels (all this plexiglass that appeared during covid is not yet easy to recycle, unfortunately...). Living in New York is sometimes hard in that regard. It's a city where plastic and non-recyclable products are still a norm, even though there are many creative and inspiring initiatives here as well. I guess, like everyone else, I just try to reuse as many things as possible (clothes, art material, etc.) and change my eating habits, but I'm not a proselytizer. I now believe that beauty or strong intuitions do more than rational argumentation, sophistry, and quibbles. In my daily practice, I walk almost an hour every day and observe the many forms of life in the city: that is also one way to fight climate change. Of course, protests, votes, collective actions are essential. Still, the trickiest part is to switch from time to time our "eco science" state of mind that use the prefabricated sensors of metrics to a "being sensor" state of mind that cultivate modes of attention to perceive what matters to other beings (a London plane trees on Allen street or the Hudson river geese).
What is your creative process like? Could you walk us through a day in your studio?
My creative process can start very early in the morning when I'm still a little bit asleep with no precise thoughts in mind yet. That's usually when I have most of my creative impulses. Later on, in my studio, I typically start with a drawing (these days, it's either colorful oil chalk on black canson or red ink on white paper), just for a few minutes, to detach myself a little bit from the day to day craziness. I then spend most of my day trying some ideas: staging an installation, taking photographs, drawing scenography sketches, scrapping and bending plexiglass with a heat gun, preparing some materials for a show, or taking care of the plants I work with. Of course, there are also some days where I can't do all these things.
Over the past 12 months, we have witnessed a growing number of online exhibitions and live events. What do you think of the recent changes in the art world? Do you miss the art world as it was before the pandemic, or do you see more opportunity now?
I've been quite curious about the NFT trend, and I followed online exhibits and participated in an online international art festival. Like every new tool, I think there are some very interesting aspects of it: it's more democratic, it gives us more opportunities to connect with peers and an international audience, and it could potentially help more artists to make a living out of their craft. But the main downsides I see come from the idea that the "virtual way" should now be the norm. Not every artwork is meant to be seen, experienced, or possessed virtually (it's still quite the opposite, actually - I've seen few artworks that were more interesting to experiment virtually). Furthermore, "minting" an NFT isn't yet sustainable in terms of carbon print (I know that some new blockchains companies such as Algorand are trying to develop a more sustainable technology, we'll see...)
I'm not nostalgic of the pre-pandemic world as I feel much more fostered and enriched by my daily life now than I was before the pandemic, but I'm extremely happy to be back to collective and in-person art and performance gatherings!
What are you working on right now? Do you have any new projects on their way?
I'm working on an "Art in the Wild" multimedia exhibition at NYU in November and a multimedia installation at the LMCC Art center, where I'm currently an artist in residence in NYC in December. I have a few projects for 2022: "Nature morte", an experiment with resins and burnt wood residue that reflects the growth time process of specific plants; "The Banana project", a collective work in partnership with Tout-Monde Foundation, where I'll be working on the mental imagery associated to bananas in post-colonial countries; and finally I'll be, hopefully, creating some "planthroposcene" scenographies for an opera and a ballet. And I just hope to discover new things and have the time to draw, create and experiment.
And lastly, what is one lesson you learned in the past year?
I've learned (even if it's still sometimes extremely hard) to let go and welcome the flux, the movement, the unknown. I remember working a lot on Heraclites as a philosophy master student in Rome, and "Panta rhei" ("everything flows") is an aphorism I'm just starting to understand now. The pandemic (and the experience of a strong Covid sickness) changed my perception of life and death. Paradoxically, I feel more part of a whole, in expansion, polymorphous now than I previously was before the pandemic, and it's a joyful and exhilarating feeling.