In Conversation: Maria Walker Interviews Cordy Ryman

“The works evolve like a spiral with branches moving outward … going forward but constantly looping back to revisit things.”

Cordy Ryman, (Front) Coil, 2008. Acrylic, enamel, and metal on wood,48 x 48 x 4 in. Courtesy of the artist.

In Conversation: Maria Walker Interviews Cordy Ryman

Maria Walker: Would you describe your studio space for us?

Cordy Ryman: My studio is in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. It’s a huge, one-story garage building with a few dividing walls, 16-foot ceilings, no natural light, good artificial lighting. I’ve been there about five years. My block is all industrial and commercial. I’m flanked by a Polish-Russian shoe factory and a commercial bakery. I’ve divided my space into two parts: one part is messy, for working; the other part I try to keep cleaner so I can see things and show works.

I almost always work on multiple things at once in multiple modes. One piece often leads to another, then a third might start that is totally different, almost like an antidote to the other two. Eventually, I have four or five pieces going, all at various stages, and I bounce between them based on whichever grabs my interest that day.

MW: In the photo of your workspace, there is an explosion of materials on the floor, which become contained or arranged within the artworks on the walls. Can you speak to the sense of ordering in your work? Are there rules or systems that you follow?

CR: Sometime there are general parameters that I follow, but the rules are loose. Probably 80% of the time I’ll change or break them part way through, but a sense of order and structure remains. Other times I’ll start more intuitively and see what happens. Then I might go back and apply some containing structure or riff on what happened previously.

I also work with multiple themes. I get seduced by certain colors, shapes, or materials, which will crop up repeatedly in my work for a period of time. Then I get sick of it, fall out of love, and fall in love with some new “theme” that has crept in. Once I’ve dropped a theme, I usually avoid it for months or years, but often they crop up again and again on their own. Eventually the works evolve, but not linearly. More like a spiral with branches moving outward … going forward but constantly looping back to revisit things.

MW: That makes me think of the piece Coil from your studio. The spiral turns inwards and outward, and the brown supports jump from one part to the next, the way you might loop back to an idea after a few weeks or a year. The green isn’t directly visible, like some elusive event parallel to the more obvious drawing. That light between the object and the wall makes me think about the space between painting and sculpture. How much do you think about the language of painting versus sculpture? What about that space between the two resonates with you?

CR: I like your spiral metaphor! I think that’s true, and I don’t think anyone else has picked up on that. The spiral or coil has been one of those things that has been popping up a lot over the last few years, and maybe even more so this year. I feel very connected to it right now!

I think more about painting and the issues of paintings, but I don’t really differentiate that much. I grew up around a lot of painting, and I like to look at paintings most, but I need to make things, and making a traditional painting on canvas has always felt too much like a prop. I like the space between the two, but I don’t worry about the definition. Some people see me as one or the other; either or both is fine with me.

MW: What shows that are up are excited about these days? At the Met, do you have favorite artists that you regularly visit? Were there artworks you saw as a child that you think about still?

CR: Of my own volition, I rarely go to look at art. That said, when I go to museums and galleries I do love it, get a lot from it, and vow to start going more. I can’t pinpoint any one work that particularly inspires me … I’m more inspired by the whole of it and a way of thinking that the whole impressed upon me. I grew up around a lot of art. My parents are both painters; all their friends were artists; even the babysitters were artists. My mother in particular used to take my brother and me to openings, galleries, and museums constantly. I thought it was boring at the time, though looking back I see I got a lot from it … Today I do like to look at art—I love it—but the impulse to go out looking is broken … so I need prodding.