Check out Ali Prosch’s Artwork

Today we’d like to introduce you to Ali Prosch.

Ali, we’d love to hear your story and how you got to where you are today both personally and as an artist.
As a kid, I was lucky to have a ton of creative outlets: dance, piano, I loved to draw, create costumes out of my mom’s old clothes and stage weird photo shoots. I’ve always been drawn to making stuff. I was born in Fairfax, California in 1979 and raised between my mom in South Florida and dad in Northern California. My imagination from the beginning was butted up against a lot of chaos in my day-to-day life. I grew up with addiction and Alzheimer’s looming over my family. Both of my parents struggled with alcoholism. I watched grandparents on both sides of my family die from causes related to Alzheimer’s. And, over the last few years, my mom has been dealing with symptoms of the disease. My eldest brother passed away unexpectedly three years ago from liver cancer. As an artist, one of my objectives has been to transform these experiences by making beautiful objects that engage the stigmatizations surrounding trauma and grief.

I received my B.F.A. from New World School of the Arts in Miami, Florida in 2003. At the time, there was a wonderful sense of momentum and support for young artists in Miami. Artist-run spaces were gaining more recognition; it was the early years of Art Basel; there was a lot of experimentation happening; and Miami was becoming more of an official destination for the art world. In this context, I was able to exhibit my work in local museums, galleries and alternative spaces very early out of undergrad–I was super lucky! These experiences certainly helped me build a career as an artist, but I always knew I wanted to attend graduate school and have some uninterrupted time to dig deeper into my work. This is what led me to Los Angeles. In 2007, I started at California Institute of the Arts for my Master’s degree in Studio Art. CalArts gave me the tools I needed to think critically about my work and I joined an incredible community of artists.

I’ve been in L.A. ever since. I’ve been teaching, freelancing, in addition to working as a studio artist. I continue to exhibit my work at various spaces locally, including JOAN, Charlie James Gallery, Elephant Art Space, MOCA Geffen, among other venues. Collaboration and community involvement have been an important aspect of my practice. I am a co-founder of D3, an artist-run service specializing in helping people part with emotionally burdensome objects. D3 offers a personalized program to help people rid formidable objects from their lives. Clients submit materials and provide the provenance of their object, then D3 processes the object and ultimately formulates a method of destruction. I’m also the creator and co-host of Performing Aspen, a program on KChung radio that invites artists, musicians, dancers and writers from the Los Angeles art community to engage with the contents of Aspen Magazine Issue 5+6 through conversation, play and performance. At the moment, I’m working on a new series of sculptures I’m calling “comfort objects” in my studio; things like custom-made heating pads, fur gloves, capes and rattles. I’m also preparing for my biggest collaborative project yet—this spring, my husband and I are anticipating the arrival of our first child.

We’d love to hear more about your art. What do you do and why and what do you hope others will take away from your work?
I work between sculpture, video and performance. In many ways, my work has always addressed feminine ideals and the representation of women in visual culture. Mainly drawn from tropes of motherhood and domesticity, sexuality, bodily excess, dark humor, grotesque beauty, and the female witch archetype.

Earlier this year, for a solo show at the art space Bed & Breakfast LA, I made sculptures that examine the nuanced processes of aging and loss. Working with latex, dyes, human hair, beeswax, silicone and animal furs handed down from my grandmother, they became utilitarian, domestic objects, such as Untitled (window curtains) and Untitled (bed throw). The textural qualities in the work mimic wrinkles, stretch marks, discolorations and other ‘imperfections’ of the body. Each object acts as a skin, moving between rest and motion, horror and ecstasy. This is highlighted through a performance and video entitled A Series of Movements and Activations that I made during the show. Two dancers interact with the sculptures through slow pedestrian movements. Their choreography falls in and out of sync with each other and their gestures range from soft petting and tickling to stretching, hugging, pulling, and folding. Constantly connecting with the tactile vulnerabilities of the work.

My interest in these materials stems from my background in experimental film and video, where creating DIY special effects and props for low-budget horror films (always with the trope of the monstrous feminine) was my specialty. My video Not My Mama portrays a fast-paced, campy encounter with a manic monster that takes the viewer on a mission towards annihilation. A troubling, yet humorous, narrative of a violent and desperate swamp zombie mother whose instinct is to destroy. Vanitas (worms and flesh) depicts a gothic tableau in fleshy hues. Rooted in the history of nature morte painting, the composition is made up of crystals, fake flowers, makeup, skulls, mannequin displays, a variety of artists’ tools, amongst other items, all in nude, pink and auburn tones. A static shot records the inanimate objects as light and shadow shifts on their contours, a candle flickers, and worms slowly cross the frame and lounge in the scene’s crevices. Set to Einstürzende Neubauten’s industrial sounds, the meticulous arrangement offers a meditative view of a contemporary witch’s table. Beauty and the grotesque coalesce in wretched harmony and point simultaneously to a body’s implied presence, but current absence.

Have things improved for artists? What should cities do to empower artists?
Being an artist has never been an easy career path. Only the very few can sustain themselves from their artwork alone. Most of the artists I know, including myself, juggle several jobs to keep themselves a float. The best thing people can do to support artists in their community is to go see a lot of shows, especially by women and institutions exhibiting the work of underserved parts of the art community. Also, buy work, if you can. There are a lot of smaller fairs and art swaps happening these days, such as OPaf (Other Places Art Fair) and Artists Swap Meet Odd Ark LA. These are great places to find artworks for as little as $50. If you have the big bucks, buy more work by women artists.

There is significant under-representation of women artists in the art world and collectors hold the power to help shift this. Museums and galleries also play an important role in helping artists thrive. I think museums could afford to expand their programming to include more shows by women, poc, LGBTQ, mid-career and older artists. It would also be nice to see institutions organize more group shows that highlight the talents of artists living and working in Los Angeles, something more than a biennial every two years. Furthermore, artists in Los Angeles need more fiscal support from city and state governments and more grant opportunities that reach a wider range of artists. Although it is a difficult path to pursue, I honestly wouldn’t choose anything else.

Do you have any events or exhibitions coming up? Where would one go to see more of your work? How can people support you and your artwork?
People can stay updated on my upcoming exhibitions and screenings via social media and by getting on my email list. Documentation of previous work and exhibits is on my website: aliprosch.com. People are also welcome to email me if they’d like to schedule a studio visit. My studio is located at the Santa Monica Airport.

Contact Info:

• Website: www.aliprosch.com
• Email: [email protected]
• Instagram: @ali_prosch
• Facebook: /ali.prosch
• Other: www.d-three.org

Image Credit:
Brica Wilcox

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