Nicole Rudolph

In 2020 I created works for my watercolor series Liminal Spaces. In it I captured the liminality of love, loss, death, decay, dreaming, illness, and recovery. There can be a great deal of anxiety and fear while within these transitional spaces as we don’t have an assurance of the outcome. So much of our lives are spent trying to push through times of uncertainty to get to the safety of consistency that we miss the powerful transformative elements that lie within this period. Each painting communicates these states in a soft ethereal, dreamlike, pallet with velvety black gouache punctuating the fear and anxiety that can accompany these spaces. However, it is worth noticing how the inky darkness of uncertainty can work to highlight the beauty of the softer aspects of these transitions. This was my first step into articulating my understanding of liminality. Liminal Spaces was featured in my 2022 show of the same name along with other works within the theme such as Foundation, colonial foundation wear created for the multiracial/colonized body, and Artifacts of Location, a collection of pieces that work together to help the viewer find me, the artist, during the uncertain time of the Covid-19 pandemic.

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Within this show was a collaborative installation titled Portal to the Flooding Forest created for the exhibit by fellow multiracial artist Claire Apana and myself. Together we worked for days to suspend matte black tree branches midair to resemble a tree that was stopped mid explosion. Below was a black pool of satin that appeared as dark water seeping from behind the wall. Accompanying the installation was ethereal lighting, the scent of earthy ritual oils and the sound of a creek at night. The imagery was pulled from one of my dream spaces; an infinite and ancient flooded forest that I often travel through. Visitors were invited to consider liminal spaces of being in their own life and write them down on a paper that they will then tie to the branches of the tree. The response of the viewers was intense. Most were college students within transitional phases of their lives and were thankful for a space to discuss this transition from their childhood into their adulthood or professional lives. Many discussed the trials and loneliness of the pandemic, some cried, and some wrote feverishly but said nothing, opting to place their paper into the receptacle where they will not be read. After the show all papers were ritually burned into ashes with fellow Indigenous Mexican artist Sage Alucero, and those ashes were used to fertilize my garden to help plants grow symbolizing rebirth. This was my first collaboration with other artists and the experience was something I cherish and wish to do again