About Magnolia
Baltimore City
Magnolia Laurie was born in Massachusetts and raised in Puerto Rico. She received her BA in Critical Social Thought from Mount Holyoke College and her MFA from the Mount Royal School of Art at the Maryland Institute College of Art. She has been awarded fellowships and residencies from the Vermont Studio Center, the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, the Creative Alliance in Baltimore, and the Jentel Foundation in Wyoming. She has also been a recipient of an Individual Artist Grant from the… more
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further yet closer still
the wanderer is not a walker of shapes or outlines,
and his vision unfolds at ground level, as he goes along
Tim Ingold, The Life of Lines, Routledge
The works in further yet closer still are honest in their wandering, each painting marking an encounter with information that I needed to process and translate in order to better understand. Some paintings stay closer to their references, while others are allowed to detour into augmentation and embellishment. The colors in these works range from emotional saturation to restrained precision and starkness.
Borders, fences, and framing devices are repeated motifs in these new paintings, they denote division, proximity, and distance. There is no doubt that we are living in a time of division and very tangible transition. These works are about looking and thinking, bearing witness to environmental and cultural rifts, while trying to move forward.
further yet closer still can refer to the act of wandering, which is also likened to the process of making, when you sometimes need to lose yourself in order to find what you are looking for. The phrase also seems apt to describe the somewhat conflicted state of our social and political environment - from which we will hopefully find our direction forward.
and his vision unfolds at ground level, as he goes along
Tim Ingold, The Life of Lines, Routledge
The works in further yet closer still are honest in their wandering, each painting marking an encounter with information that I needed to process and translate in order to better understand. Some paintings stay closer to their references, while others are allowed to detour into augmentation and embellishment. The colors in these works range from emotional saturation to restrained precision and starkness.
Borders, fences, and framing devices are repeated motifs in these new paintings, they denote division, proximity, and distance. There is no doubt that we are living in a time of division and very tangible transition. These works are about looking and thinking, bearing witness to environmental and cultural rifts, while trying to move forward.
further yet closer still can refer to the act of wandering, which is also likened to the process of making, when you sometimes need to lose yourself in order to find what you are looking for. The phrase also seems apt to describe the somewhat conflicted state of our social and political environment - from which we will hopefully find our direction forward.
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built for fictions of the presentbuilt for fictions of the present, 18 x 18 inches, oil on panel, 2018
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built on fictions of the pastbuilt on fictions of the past, 2018, oil on panel, 18 x 18 inches
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they marked the borders, the barriers, and the changing tidethey marked the borders, the barriers, and the changing tide, 12 x 12 inches, oil on panel, 2017
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to be further yet closer stillto be further yet closer still, 2017, oil on panel, 18 x 18 inches
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they list disasters like dark poemsthey list disasters like dark poems, 2018, oil on panel, 16 x 20 inches
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between forethought and hindsightbetween forethought and hindsight, 2018, oil on panel, 12 x 24 inches
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how we shape each otherhow we shape each other, 2018, oil on panel, 18 x 18 inches
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pending (November 1963)pending (November 1963), 2017, oil on panel, 12 x 12 inches
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how far is farhow far is far, 2018, oil on panel, 12 x 12
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where earth and sky mix and minglewhere earth and sky mix and mingle, 2018, oil on panel, 36 x 36 inches
GROUND SHIFT
The work in GROUND SHIFT was made in response to my recent time in Iceland. The title nods to the act of traveling and literally shifting ground, altering one’s place in the world and thus one’s view. Iceland feels like a ground in perpetual motion and transition; impacted by eruptions, tectonic plate shift, glacial melt, and constant weather change. In Iceland I felt both awe and inconsequentially vulnerable to the whim of, not simply the land, but the whole spinning earth. I stood completely blinded by dense fog, touched rocks that rose up from under the earths crust, stared off through vast barren lava fields, and humbly climbed atop a glacier as it melted beneath my feet. Distinct from my past work, these paintings bear fewer direct references to the manmade and settle the gaze on the idea of the landscape itself. In this way, GROUND SHIFT also refers to a change in scale and focus within the work - a shift towards glacier time, tectonic movement, and geological formation.
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I asked the horizon line, it replied with a well worn stoneI asked the horizon line, it replied with a well worn stone 2016, oil on panel, 36 x 36 inches
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if we could drill wisdom from a stone2016, oil on panel, 24 x 24 inches
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to get at the center of the worldto get at the center of the world 2016, oil on panel, 12 x 12 inches
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wider than the skywider than the sky, 2016, oil on panel, 36 x 36 inches
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just a crack in the crust, marking time and changejust a crack in the crust, marking time and change, 2016, oil on panel, 36 x 36 inches
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revel in the space betweenrevel in the space between, 2016, oil on panel, 36 x 36 inches
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to wonder what could, what would beto wonder what could, what would be 2016, oil on panel, 12 x 12 inches
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how to lose without negotiatinghow to lose without negotiating 2016, oil on panel, Diptych 24 x 73 inches, each panel is 24 x 36 inches
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to wander across burnt land, with anticipation and hopeto wander across burnt land, with anticipation and hope 2016, oil on panel, 36 x 36 inches
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there was no circumventing the weatherthere was no circumventing the weather 2016, oil on panel, 24 x 12 inches
Landmark : Paralax Views
This body of work draws from history and current events, recomposing mountain top removal explosions, aerial views of flooded communities, and the billowing plumes of oil train derailments. These are events that impact us all in some way or another, but our opinions and views are shaped by our proximity, our needs, our costs and our benefits. I wanted to address parallax views and multiple vantage points within the work as a way to suggest the complexity of our relationships to the land we occupy and utilize. I created dual panel paintings that explore a range of diptych formats to focus on the idea of vantage point and the spacial experience of looking from here to there.
Just as vantage point impacts our opinions, physicality impacts our attention. We relate to information presented in a two-dimensional space differently than we do to that in three-dimensional space, things that occupy our space command our attention. To recognize that fact, some paintings are shown on the walls while others occupy custom-made wooden structures. These structures bring the paintings off of the wall and into an awkwardly active and insistent space that wanders in a non-committal manner between sculpture, picket-sign, billboard, and furniture.
This work was featured in the Baltimore Museum of Art as part of the 2015 Sondheim Prize Finalist Exhibition.
Just as vantage point impacts our opinions, physicality impacts our attention. We relate to information presented in a two-dimensional space differently than we do to that in three-dimensional space, things that occupy our space command our attention. To recognize that fact, some paintings are shown on the walls while others occupy custom-made wooden structures. These structures bring the paintings off of the wall and into an awkwardly active and insistent space that wanders in a non-committal manner between sculpture, picket-sign, billboard, and furniture.
This work was featured in the Baltimore Museum of Art as part of the 2015 Sondheim Prize Finalist Exhibition.
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ash and moss, hold us together2015 Oil on panel 2 panels, 24” x 24” each
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slapstick, a coincidence of humor and melancholy2015 Oil on panel 24 x 24 inches
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new geography lessons with oil and water2015 Oil on panel 54” x 18”
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Exhibition view at BMA
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left unsaid2015 Oil on panel Horizontal diptych, Two panels 24" x 30" each
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we roam and lie still2015 Oil on panel Vertical diptych, 24” x 24” and 12” x 24”
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in awe of nothing2014 Oil on panel 22” x 10”
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a potential turning point2014 Oil on panel 22” x 10”
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between here and there2014 Oil on panel 22” x 10”
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on both sides, there was a habit to edit and revise2015 Oil on panel Horizontal diptych, Two panels 40” x 30” each
Landmark
This body of work started in the summer of 2013 at the Jentel Artist Residency. Driving from Baltimore to Wyoming, I spent many hours looking at the landscape moving by and thinking about its history and transformation in the time that people have claimed ownership of it. Heading west, there is a sense of an ever increasing scale – it’s hard not to feel somewhat romantic and nostalgic about it –even if it is marked by billboards, signs, old oil drilling rigs, scorched hillsides, and miles of fences claiming ownership of it all.
As a body, these new paintings have a sense of conflated meaning. They imply the sublime and the history of landscape painting, while acknowledging the melancholic cycles of infrastructure and decay. Parallel to these ideas, I wanted to explore the more consumer oriented act of travel photography and tourism. In these conditions, what would be considered a landmark? l was interested in this term for the duality of its meaning as both a marker as well as a destination or place – it can indicate both where we are or where we want to go. It can be a point of reference in space but also an event or point in time, such as a turning point or a moment of discovery. In this context I could draw connections between the personal and the societal, the past and the present, the functional and the futile. With current political issues over water and energy resources, as well as what has felt like increasing severe weather and steadily rising environmental concerns, I wanted to incorporate the conflicting visual vocabulary that marks the land we live on and utilize. These are also our landmarks, they mark our occupation and use of the land, they mark a location, they will mark a moment in time - perhaps a turning point.
As a body, these new paintings have a sense of conflated meaning. They imply the sublime and the history of landscape painting, while acknowledging the melancholic cycles of infrastructure and decay. Parallel to these ideas, I wanted to explore the more consumer oriented act of travel photography and tourism. In these conditions, what would be considered a landmark? l was interested in this term for the duality of its meaning as both a marker as well as a destination or place – it can indicate both where we are or where we want to go. It can be a point of reference in space but also an event or point in time, such as a turning point or a moment of discovery. In this context I could draw connections between the personal and the societal, the past and the present, the functional and the futile. With current political issues over water and energy resources, as well as what has felt like increasing severe weather and steadily rising environmental concerns, I wanted to incorporate the conflicting visual vocabulary that marks the land we live on and utilize. These are also our landmarks, they mark our occupation and use of the land, they mark a location, they will mark a moment in time - perhaps a turning point.
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Studio view of multiple peices
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how we bury the past2014, oil on panel, 12 x 12 inches
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suspending hope, we dug up the future2014, oil on panel, 12 x 12 inches
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somewhere between lost and found2014, oil on panel, 18 x 18 inches
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a means to measure change2014, oil on panels, 20 x 10 inches
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the near to far2014, oil on panel, 16 x 16 inches
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magnolialaurie03.jpg
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to the moon, from here (wall) & a reflecting return (structure)2014, oil on panels, 14 x 14 inches each
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to lead us back again2014, oil on panel, 14 x 14 inches
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we could differ and still turn out better2014, oil on panel, 18 x 18 inches
Markers
Continuing with some of the ideas from What Could Hold Us Together, this work spans 2012-2013. The paintings reference images of natural and made made decay and destruction. At times, the pending threat is slow, an abandonment and neglect that is seemingly just as inescapable as an on oncoming tornado. In the work I was thinking about time and repetition. Events mark time, these are markers of a moment of transition, a change for better or worse.
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to unmake history, againoil on panels, 12 x 12 & 9 x 12 inches, 2013
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to unmake history, againoil on panels, 12 x 12 & 9 x 12 inches, 2013 on the wall: to the moon... oil on panel, 12 x 12 inches, 2013
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in praise of nothing but my favorite epithetoil on panel, 16 x 16 inches, 2013
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we have only built to settle stones, second tryoil on panel, 14 x 14 inches, 2012
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circumventing entropy, for a momentoil and graphite on panel, 18 x 18 inches, 2012
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projectiles come to rest, we understand that better in hindsightoil on panel, 14 x 14 inches, 2012
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we’ve run amok, but we left a markoil and graphite on panel, 9 x 12 inches, 2012
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I followed it back to what you didn't sayoil on panel, 12 x 16 inches, 2012
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creating a tender ruin, we should ahve know bettergraphite and oil on panel, 18 x 18 inches, 2012
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marker, indicating a quiet turn in our pathoil on panel, 14 x 14 inches
what could hold us together
What Could Hold Us Together is a series of work created for a solo exhibition at frosch&portmann Gallery in NY.
Within the work I wanted to pose the question of what could hold us back from the brink of falling apart, as mounting political, social, and economic calamities seemed to perpetually threaten. I wanted What Could Hold Us Together to read both as a question to a hopeless answer, as well as a resilient statement of hope and assurance of what will persist and endure and maintain. The title of the exhibition comes from a line in Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse. In 2012 I found myself rereading the novel along with Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick and John Steinbeck’s America and Americans. These narratives of precarious transition with wandering narrators informed the visual language and psychology of the environments in the paintings. Within the paintings I tried to balance domesticity with survival, the falsity of facade and the reality of barriers, and the hopeful with the hopeless.
Within the work I wanted to pose the question of what could hold us back from the brink of falling apart, as mounting political, social, and economic calamities seemed to perpetually threaten. I wanted What Could Hold Us Together to read both as a question to a hopeless answer, as well as a resilient statement of hope and assurance of what will persist and endure and maintain. The title of the exhibition comes from a line in Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse. In 2012 I found myself rereading the novel along with Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick and John Steinbeck’s America and Americans. These narratives of precarious transition with wandering narrators informed the visual language and psychology of the environments in the paintings. Within the paintings I tried to balance domesticity with survival, the falsity of facade and the reality of barriers, and the hopeful with the hopeless.
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the urgency of the moment always missed the markoil on panel, 18 x 18 inches
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the aesthetic possibilities of indifference ,oil on panel, 18 x 18 inches
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following a trail of vague marksoil on panel, 18 x 18 inches
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piling wreckage upon wreckage, collect and carryoil on panel, 18 x 18 inches
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caught in a vast and benevolent lethargy of well wishing, we did nothingoil on panel, 18 x 18 inches
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new lessons in geography, record breakingoil on panel, 14 x 14 inches
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within a measure of unpredictabilityoil on panel, 18 x 18 inches
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leaning, just a measure of acceleration, mass and timeoil and graphite on panel, 16 x 20 inches
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we can all adjust to inhabiting the accidentoil on panel, 18 x 18 inches
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notions of comfort, knocked askewoil on panel, 9x12 inches
holding up
In Holding Up I wanted to explore the repeating task of enduring weight. This series references accumulative structures such as bird nests, entwined debris and residual heaps that remain after a storm. Within the series, delicate structures change and adapt, as do the weights or pressures. And in the end, the series is about endurance and survival, making-do and adapting.
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if the wooing worksif the wooing works 2010, Oil and Graphite on Panel, 18 x 18?
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to trip and get back upto trip and get back up 2010, oil on Panel, 18 x 18?
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to burrow and build and borrowoil on panel, 36" x 36"
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to swagger and croon, with just a little tugoil on panel, 12" x 12"
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between here and nearest landoil on panel, 14" x 14"
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a modest and wry estrangementoil on panel, 18" x 18"
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unfurled, but holdingoil on panel, 12" x 12"
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left alone with architecture that grows in the darkoil on panel, 18" x 18"
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it's hard to trust in these qualitiesoil on panel, 18" x 18"
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he noted, "The aesthetic impulse is the second strongest, after survival."oil on panel, 36" x 36"