Interviewee: Tayo Heuser

Date of Interview: November 19, 2003

Naragansett, Rhode Island

Interviewer: Sarah Gevlin

[0:00]

SG: I guess the first question that I have for you, to kind of go off of that, is just kind of generally where you were born, and where you grew up; and what your family was like...

TH: Okay, all right, well, I was born in Washington, D.C. And when I was about three years old we moved to Italy for a little while, and then on to Korea, and then came back to Washington D.C. for a little bit, and then went to Africa, and grew up in Africa, basieally, until I went to college. There were a couple years in there where I went to an American high school, but then we went back to Africa and in Africa, most of the places I was in were French colonies, so I went to French schools there. My parents never sent me to the American schools, that they had, and instead they sent me to the local French schools. My father was in the foreign service, so that's why we were overseas.

SG: So, where are your first memories from?

TH: You mean the psyehologica1 ones, or...? (laughter) Um...first memories, I would say, would be of Korea. And I think that one of the first memories I had there was of Truja, my nanny, who used to carry me around on her back. And those are probably some of my first memories, I mean, I was three years old, and I think I remember my cat, and I also remember leaving Korea, and being really worried about my cat. And that cat has stuck in my mind ever since I was three years old, it was like this white cat, and I still feel the loss of that cat, which is so amazing to me. And so I would say that's probably one of my very first, earliest memories, ever, that I can think of. Even more so than anything that happened there with my family, yeah... and I think, also, when my mother mistakenly, or, she didn't do it, actually, I think my brother reached up, and it was the same period, and he was probably about a year old, and he reached up on the stove and pulled a pot of boiling water over him. And I vaguely have a sense of that, the drama of that, and him being in bed, and the skin, and everything else...

SG: How old were you?

TH: I think I was about three. I would say most all my memories, earliest ones, I was probably about three years old, when I first started remembering things.

SG: And you have a brother and . . . any other siblings?

TH: Yes, I have a younger brother, who lives in California, who's in the film business. And I have a brother that's older than I am, and he lives in Florence, Italy. And I have a sister who lives in Paris, my older sister. And another older sister who lives in Washington .D.C., so, we're sort of all spread out. . .

SG: A large family.

TH: Yeah, five of us. My father died. I was very very very close to my father, and he died about six years ago. And that was probably one of the saddest things that ever happened to me. It's one of those things that you really don't know what it feels like until it happens. Yeah...having kids.

And, speaking of kids, I have two children. I have a sixteen year- old son, who's going to - who is, really - who plays jazz piano. That's what he loves to do, and that's what he's going to be, there's no question about it. And then, also, another little one, who's ten. So we have two boys. Those have been, that experience of having children, although I have a career as an artist, I think it informed my work as an artist in many different ways. In that it

made me more disciplined, because I had less time to work, so, in fact, I think having children made me work even harder, because there were only a certain amount of hours that I could be in the studio, so I would grab them all the time, any time I had, I would just spend it...and it also, it just, makes you aware of time. Whereas before, I could do anything. I could go out with my friends, I never had to worry about coming back home at a certain time. But the sense of time, once you have children, everything is run by the clock. And I found that really disturbing, but you work with it. And I still don't like it. You never get used to it. Because, you know, you have this constant worry about where you have to be next, and what you have to do for your kids all the time. You know, picking them up, driving them, all of that. So- but - the experience of having children is about, is, uh, I wouldn't, it's just... you find time for it. It's hard. So...

SG:. So, do you want to go over to the table? Are you done with that? If you want to change location, you should just let me know. . .

TH: Actually, um - yeah. What I need to do now is take this alum, this is called alum, and I got it in Turkey. And you roll it in this egg white, and what happens when you roll it in this egg white, I have about two dozen eggs in here. You roll it in the egg white, and you'll see, it'll turn into this. cottage cheese. And then I have to let it set for a while. That's why I wanted to do it while I talked, so I use it later. And it'll become a clear liquid that you put it on a paper, on my drawings...

SG: And that's what creates the burnish?

TH: Well, that, yeah, that'll create the surface that will be burnished with little aggots, with little aggot stone. It's all very time consuming. It's actually a thirteen hundreds process.

SG: Oh, really?

TH: Yeah, uh, the way I came about it was I was in ____, and I saw some signatures of sultans, sultan's signatures of Persia, and they were sjust s beautiful. And I also noticed the paper, the paper was just exquisite. And it had this sort of sheen to it. So, I wanted to know how that paper was made. And I couldn't find anybody who knew about it, surprisingly enough, and I mean, I called people in museums, and everywhere. So I went on the internet, and I met this man on the internet, who still uses the same process. He studied it with a master in Turkey, and I guess they still do it there,

for a lot of the Arab media writing, and the Arabic writing. So he taught me over the phone, and so on. Yeah. So I was just experimenting for months in the studio, until I finally got it.

SG: What's the stone called, again?

TH: It's alum. Alum. And I think what it does I'm not sure, exactly, what it does. Well, first of all, it changes the consistency, of the egg white here. Yeah, it's pretty amazing. And I think it'll set the ink, and so on, too.. I think it has something to do...I think it's used in dying fabrics, and for leather dyes. Yeah. I just have to keep doing this for awhile.. Yeah, and I like this. I think what's happened with my artwork, too, is when I was a child in Tunisia, we had to study Arabic in the French schools, With Arabic, you write from right to left, and we had our little notebooks, and our pen and ink, with a little china inkwell, and our plumes, you know. And we would have to write the alphabet down, and I remember just loving it SO much. And the smell of paper, I used to love stationary stores. You don't really see that many stationary stores like that, anymore. Just filled, just with school notebooks, and it was just for that . . . and in Europe, you still do. But here, I guess it's all Staples, you know. It's not the same experience, for sure, because there's a real sense of smell. The senses are so awakened and, a nd because of all the senses you make all these great memories. So, when - I went to RISD, and I ended up doing a lot of painting and after that, a lot of sculpture. So,

[10:00]

it was just recently - three, three and a half years ago that I started doing. these large scale drawings. And I came full circle, back to the paper, back to the ink, back to the plume, that I was so familiar with. I think that you go through this huge exploration as an artist, and then finally, you sort of settle into something. And not that I've settled into this, but I feel really comfortable here, you know, working on these. Even though, it's hard to come up with ideas, it's a struggle to make this stuff, ad it takes forever. But, it's funny, because it's the same experience that I had when I was eight, eight on.

SG: Is that when you were in Tunisia?

TH: In Tunisia, and then from Tunisia, we went to Libya, and then from Libya, we went to the Sudan. And then we came back to D.C. for a couple of years, and then we went to the Ivory Coast. So, it was Arabic, and then African, which is really different. Different everything, you know. Different colors, different fabrics, different warmth of the people, you know, compared to the Africans. Completely different. And I loved growing-up in Africa. And, you know, I didn't really know any different. To me, I thought, you know, everyone grew up like this, and went to all these places. And that's because everyone I knew was doing the same thing. When I came back to the United States, for those few years it was totally traumatic for me. I even lost a lot of hair, off the top of my head. I was about thirteen, and one morning I woke up and just pulled my hair, and went through like this (gestures) with my hand, and I had a huge clump of hair out the top of my head. And you can imagine, at thirteen, what that was like? I went to the breakfast table, and my father and mother were having breakfast, and my father said, "Oh, Good God," you know, "what happened?!" It was, I guess, from nerves, from being back, it was SO different. And, thank goodness, it grew back. I went to Dr. Sadler...and he put little shots on top of my head, and said, "It'll be all right. It'll be all right." And sure enough, it grew back after awhile. But that's how traumatized I was, you know, from going back. And I think that what it was, mostly, was the emphasis on clothes and materialism and so on, which I didn't find in Africa. I think because so many people, especially my going to the African schools and the French schools, the people didn't really have anything. So the emphasis was on other things. We also had uniforms. And when I came back it was all these different groups of students. There was this one group that would dress a certain way, and everything was so group oriented in a way. There wasn't this kind of independence, an independent feeling. And if you didn't have the right shoes. . . and so on. I remember, I had these- because, in Africa, we'd just wear sandals, or flip-flops, or, you know, it didn't matter. And here, you had to have, I think, at the time it was you had to have loafers. I, for my first day of school, I remember wearing these little red pointed shoes and these little ankle socks. I just loved those little red shoes, I thought they were the cat's meow. They were beautiful, you know? I was so proud of them, and my little socks, and everything.. And I remember just going there, and everybody started laughing; because they were wearing- loafers with the pennies in them, and stockings. I thought you had to be much older to wear stockings, and things like that. So I was a weirdo right from the beginning, you know. I mean, that was it. And then we went back to Africa, you know, it was fine. Sort of back home, in a way, Culturally, as an American, what's strange for me is that I don't really have a sense of rooting, really. Because I've been in Rhode Island longer than any other place, but I still don't feel American, because of my upbringing. I still feel very alienated from an American culture, you know, I can't seem to feel like I'm part of it. But, then again, if I go to Europe, and I feel American, or if I go to other places, then I'll relate more to my American side. So it's kind of disconcerting, that way, to have this sort of multi-, instinctive many split personalities. You know, because, if I speak French, then I have a completely different personality when I speak French, than when I speak English. So - and I didn't notice that. That was my mother that told me. I guess it's just a cultural completely a cultural thing.

SG: When you were in Africa, did you feel integrated into that culture?

TH: Yea, completely. Totally. And I think, also, because you're so young, you know, you don't really think these other things out as much. You know, and you don't have other experiences. That's your growing up experience. So it's not until much later, when you have a whole array of experiences, that you can look back, and . . . actually, in Africa, there would be the French, and there would be the Americans, and then there would be the Africans. And although I was American, I would be "L'Americane' you know, but in fact, I didn't know what America was like at all. Because I hadn't lived there, even though they would call me the American girl. I remember seeing groups of tourists coming. Like all these heavy weight women and men with shorts, and, you know, short sleeved shirts. They just looked so ugly to me. They were so loud, and everything. I remember- just looking- from afar

and saying, "Those are Americans?" That's what I thought it was. I remember thinking, "Oh, gosh." And then, on the other hand, I was really proud to be an American, because everyone thought America was the most wonderful place in the world, at that time. So I had this sense of, "Wow, I'm American. That's really wonderful. It's powerful to be American." I may not feel that way now, things have changed! But then, it was, you know.

SG: Do you think that your time abroad - it probably, certainly influenced the way you feel about politics now, right? Or. Maybe not?

TH: Yeah, it has. I mean, I think, right now, I think Americans, since a lot of them don't travel so much overseas, that they don't really have a sense of other people's cultures. I think that when you're in Europe, you're - you can so readily travel from one country to the next. I mean, it's like traveling from state to state here. But it's so completely different, the country is totally different. So I think that you're constantly exposed to all these different cultures and different ways of life, and so on . . . that you're not, here. I mean, maybe now more, but it's a funny question. I think here, you're less accepting in a way, you know, of other people's cultures. Whether it's the Spanish culture, or the Cambodian culture, and you know, there are all these cultures and they seem to not really have blended together. I think Europeans have much more of a bond than all these variant cultures here in America. It seems much more separate, whereas there, they seem to me to be much more integrated. I think there's a sense of, there's a real European bond between all the European countries.

SG: Which you see as a benefit?

TH: Yeah, sure. Sure! I mean, yeah. So I think that for Americans, particularly in this political climate, that there has to be more of an understanding of other people's cultures before we can just go in and, you know, take over. There's a real lack of that.

SG: So, you were in D.C., then you were in Korea, then you were in Africa? And after that you went back to. D.C. for a while, and then back to Africa? And then, when did you finally leave Africa permanently?

TH: In high school. My last year of high school. Although, I was going to boarding school in Rome, by that time. And going back for vacations. And then, I went to RISD. RISD was a great place for me, because I think being an artist, you're sort of in a planet with other artists. I think I always knew that I was an artist, and then just being in a school where everybody was just going into the arts was just fantastic for me. I think in that way, it's a universal language, being an artist. You know, there's a bond, wherever you are in the world, as long as you're an artist. Probably other things, too. [20:00]

I can really feel that. So, I think maybe in that space is where I feel the most comfortable. With other artists, in a way, because there is that bond, I think,

That's almost where I feel most rooted. Just because we all have these ways of thinking about it, different ways or whatever, but there's that universal mentality.

SG: What was RISD like when you were there?

TH: RISD was fun. RISD was incredible. It was just a place that was full of life, and full of creativity, freedom. You know, being in college is, I think -I think college years are probably some of the best years, really, ever. I remember my parents telling me that, and being, '"unhh, unnh, unnh.." But now I, it really is, you form some of the deepest friendships while you're in college. I think, still, my best friends are from college. Definitely, you know, I've met lot of other people, and so on, but I think my closest friends are the ones that I met in college. So, I think that college is an enormous part of your life. It's much more than just the four years, you know. Time is a funny thing, anyway. Four years seems like a short time, really, when you get older and you look back, four years is almost nothing. But those four years are, they just seem, you know, are just carried on with you for the rest of your life I think in a lot of ways. So they're really important. Much, much longer than just four years.

SG: How would you say that your time at RISD is carried on in you?

TH: Um, I think, you know. . . . let's see, what would that be, really? I think, probably, just the development of realizing that I was going to be an artist, and that was what my, what I felt my calling was. I think that's where it was solidified, and the choices were made. And so that's what's carried me through, was making those choices.

SG: And you said that you always knew that you were an artist - you mean, like, since you were the littlest girl you could be?

TH: Well, I didn't know I was an artist, I just - I did say that - I mean, I didn't really think of - I didn't even know there were artists, when I was little, really. What I mean, what an artist actually was, what it meant, or whatever. But I always loved to draw, and do things like that. You know, just constantly, you know, doing things. My mother would send me to drawing classes. My father would tell me all kinds of stories about different artists. Growing up in those places, there were lots of Roman ruins, and so for the weekends we would go and have picnics in different Roman ruins, whether it was Carthage, in Tunisia, or Sabratha, and other places. And we would, my dad would just talk to me about all these different cultures, and you know, the Romans, and the Greeks, and it just went on and on and on. And they took me to lots and lots of museums, and concerts, and so it was, I had a really rich cultural experience from my parents and that I've always really appreciated, tremendously. Because I teach at Roger Williams University, and I teach drawing and sculpture. And so many of the students, they don't have any cultural experience, at all. Nothing. It just - I find it so shocking, because I can't even imagine not being without a cultural

experience. I think, to them, their cultural experience really is television and the malls. Besides that they don't know anything. They are not aware of the arts, they're not aware of music, except for popular music. A lot of them are not even interested in knowing about any sort of history of the arts, unless they have to take it. Their focus is really on popular culture, completely. I just found that amazing: I mean, they may know about Van Gogh, or Matisse, or something just because they've become so commercial. But it's really a commercial, visual culture that they have. And it's so limited. You really found that very shocking. There are always a few students who are really interested, a few. But mostly not, mostly not at all. This is almost done [egg/alum]

SG: It's looking very cottage cheesy.

TH: Yeah, it's looking cottage cheesy. I've got to keep doing it until the cottage cheese turns back to liquid. We'll be here till tomorrow. At a certain point, it goes pretty fast.

SG: So how do you deal with that in your teaching?' I mean, an attempt to...

TH: I've only been teaching for about four years. You know, it's been, every time a new semester rolls around, it's a challenge for me. I try very hard to have my students become aware of the arts and what they mean, and go to museums, and so on. Then, I think, towards the end of the semester, I realize who are the ones that are interested, and who are the ones that aren't. And I start focusing more on the ones that are interested. Particularly after they've done their evaluations - of me! -- then forget it. I'll go really for the ones who are interested, and I won't - I shouldn't be saying this on tape! - I mean, I'll still teach them and everything. But my focus will be on the ones who are interested and who want to learn. You know, I don't want to waste my time. Because if they're not interested, they're not interested. And I've already tried -- you know, there'll be four weeks left of school, or something, in the semester, and I've tried my hardest to get them going. If they're still just baggage, then I'm not going to carry it around. So . . . I love to teach. I think it's great. I think it's just because I love the arts so much that I love to teach it, too. I have a lot of patience. To a certain point, I guess. Every student is so different, and every class is so different, I've realized. I mean, you can have a great class with one person who can really ruin the class, ruin the sense of community in the class, or whatever, or give a different, give a completely different feeling to the class. And then you can have one that's just wonderful all the way around, and then you can have one that's half real pigs, and half really good. Those are the worst kind, I think, because, you're fighting against two major groups. It's not just one person or two people. So every single class is different. Like the one I had this semester, in my drawing class, I'd never had an experience like this. I keep wondering, you know, I thought I had already experienced every possible class, and then. you know, gosh! What else is in store for me? I still love to travel, you know, I take my children to Europe as much as I can. Usually we try to do it once a year, if we can affords it. We've been to many countries in Europe, and then we've also been to Turkey. I think they really want to go to Egypt.

Egypt is so commercial, you know? So, I don't know, that's a big trip. So I don't know whether we're going to be able to do that one or not. We'll go someplace again. We just have to figure out where. I would like to go to maybe Cambodia, or that part of the world that I don't know at all. And also, my older son really wants to go to Japan. They've both become interested in Japanese culture through all these anime films,

[30:00]

SG: So when you travel with your family, do you just go to museums, or where do you go?

TH: Yup. Yup. Mostly. And they love it, they love it. They don't mind. They're great travelers, and they love to go to the museums, and everything. The only problem I ever had was with food, with my little one, who prefers peanut butter and jelly sandwiches more than anything else. That'll change, I hope. You know, trying to get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in Turkey is not the easiest thing. So he was forced to try other things, or he was going to starve, or just eat bread the whole time. He lived through it. But they love the experiences, they really do. It's nice to see it through their eyes, as well, because they are looking at it in a different way than my husband and I are looking at it. So it's really cool.

SG: Do you think that - or how do you think that your time abroad has influenced your art?

TH: Well, that's um, you know... well, I don't know how much it...I mean, it's like I'm at a loss, when it comes to that. Because, you know, it's such a combination of Western art that I was brought up with in Europe, and Africa was a whole other thing. So there are all these different influences.

(phone call0 where were we? I don't remember.

SG: I think we were probably talking about your influences and your time abroad.

TH: Oh, right. Yeah. But when people look at my artwork, they see an Oriental influence. And I've never really studied Oriental art. So. I don't know where that comes from. You know? There's the European and then... and that's what they see. I think it's probably so many combinations. I know that I lack American popular culture in my work, in that I don't really understand it, because I didn't grow up with it. I didn't grow up with TV, and I missed out on all of that. Sometimes I regret it, you know, because...there are plenty of artists that work in that vein, that I like their work. But I don't really understand the pop culture as deeply as I could have if I had grown up here. Because I think that's probably not in my work, at all, you know? I mean, not right now. Maybe it will be. Maybe later. Who knows? Who knows?

SG: [40:00] So what did you do after you went to RISD?

TH: After I went to RISD I went to New York. And I lived in New York for many years. And then, I cam back here to do commission for a zoo. Actually I also came back to be in a horror film. I was one of the victims of course. My husband-to-be was playing piano, and I was running around in my underwear and a little black t-shirt before I got shot in the breast with an arrow...very, very, a real B movie. It was really funny. So that's how we met. Then, then I moved back to New York. I was still living in New York, and then eventually, we got married, and I moved back to Rhode Island. I actually thought he was going to move to New York, and he said he was going to, but it never happened. And then I got stuck here...Which is, you know, who knows? It's just the way it is. You know, I can't say it would have been better- if I had stayed in New York. A lot of times I wish I had, but who knows? I mean, you know, that's sort of silly, because you don't

know what would have happened, at all. All I know is that my life here has been very rich. So, you know, and I think that since I was destined to have these two children, it's much better for them to have grown up here than in the city. I go back in there you know, regularly, like once a month, or once every six weeks. In a way, now, I like it much better this way. Because, especially in the art world, people can be really nasty to each other, unbelievably so. This way, I can go into the city and just pretend I'm just from Rhode Island and I don't really know anything and, you know, I can actually be nice, I can smile. And they can think, like, " Oh, well, she comes from Rhode Island. No wonder she's smiling," or, "No wonder she's so

nice," or whatever, you know? I don't have to be like that. And then I can leave. That's worked out really well, you know? I have a gallery there. I'm really happy, really really happy about that. I had a show recently. So I've been able - and I think it's probably taken me longer than people who live in New York but I think, for me, I really love nature so much, that. . . Even when I was living in New York, I remember getting so tired of just walking on cement. Used to drive me crazy. I just didn't want to walk one second more on cement! I wanted to have my feet in the ground, and earth, and grass. So, I know that that wouldn't have been right for me either.

SG: What were your other impressions of New York, from when you lived there?

TH: From when I lived there? I think that people are just, they're... I love the taxi-cab drivers, because they're always really fun to talk to. So, there's different facets of New York, you know. There's like the ordinary taxi-cab driver, and the guy in the deli, and the guy down the street. They have a real New York personality. Then it's almost like all the other people who come to New York to make it really big have a different kind of personality. So it's like different worlds, there. I always enjoyed the real, local New Yorkers, you know, that have been there forever. The ones that come, they try to really succeed, and they're just really cut throat, you never know what they're thinking or what angle they're coming from. I found that really frightening, really scary, to me. Because I just am not good at it. I wish I knew how to play that game, more, but I don't. I really don't. I always get burned if I do. So I just don't.

SG: When were you in New York?

TH: I was in New York about - it must have been about fifteen years since I've lived there. But, like I said, I go down a lot. My closest friends, from RISD, you know, everybody sort of moved to New York after we graduated. It was sort of where you'd go.

SG: Where did you live in New York?

TH: I lived in Williamsburg. Now Williamsburg is the area to know. Yeah, I was the original pioneer there. I got aloft in Williamsburg. Now, it.'s, uh... I was just there, recently, and it's completely different than when I was there. Totally. Sure is.

SG: So then, you moved to Rhode Island when your husband and you got married? And did you buy this house originally, or did you move to it?

TH: No, this house originally belonged to my in-laws. They were going to sell this half to somebody, and they offered it to us. And so we decided rather than have this house split up, that we would keep it in the family. So that's how we moved down here. We were living in Providence, I do wish sometimes I lived in Providence sometimes, or at least had a place there. Particularly because my son goes to Wheeler, and it's really hard for him to wake up every morning at 5:30. So now we're trying to make an arrangement where he can stay at someone's house at least one or two nights a week, so he can get some sleep. He's in eleventh grade, so . . . And it's just a little bit too far from Providence, that I could just zoom in and zoom back, and zoom in and zoom back. But, then again, on the other hand, it's beautiful. I'm here, my studio's here, so it's probably really good, And I love the ocean, I love it so much. Every day, I look at the ocean and think how beautiful it is, how wonderful it is, how lucky I am to be here, so...You can't be everywhere at once. Not right now. Maybe after you're dead or something, you can. I always think, like, when you're dead, maybe, you can

just be this little thing this little molecule, that can be anywhere instantly. . . that's kind of mopey.

SG: What are your thoughts on the Providence art community?

TH: I think they're really trying to do a lot. I think it's wonderful, I think that AS220 is doing it, and the convergence, and so on. I think they're really trying to do

Something. From 15 years ago, there's just more and more. With the RISD museum, the new contemporary side, and the Bell Gallery, and, you know, I think there's a lot to offer for the arts. With Gallery Nights, and so on. You know, I haven't been on one of the Gallery Nights, but I know that people who have, have enjoyed them. I think it's a great idea. The only part that I find disappointing is that people don't buy in Rhode Island. For some reason, it seems like the artists in Rhode Island, even if we show in New York or whatever, are still a hard sell. And I'm not sure that very many people buy in Rhode Island to begin with. So there's probably, you know, more visual awareness needed. For the people that do buy, they should not be such snobs. They should just buy everybody's work. Believe that it's just as good as people living-in New York or wherever. I think that's, there's still some kind of stigma that New York is the only place. You know, and I don't really believe that anymore. I think it's changing, a lot. I mean Force Field, that's a group here, was in the Whitney Biannual. And they came out to Rhode Island to find somebody to put in a major New York show. So. . . I think that there should be, that people who can afford art should be more supportive, for sure, of artists, that they have in Rhode Island. I think - I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to get those people to buy more art from the art community here. Especially groups in Providence. Even in South County...well, not so much, but Providence, it seems like it. I mean it seems like it's really pretty vital. You know, certainly, Bell Gallery, and RISD,

[50:00]

SG: What was it like fifteen years ago, when you moved here?

TH: Well, maybe there weren't as many things going on. You know, they didn't have AS220, and they didn't have - the RISD museum was there, but it didn't have contemporary side to it. I don't think there was such a community of artists. I think, now, there's a Pawtucket group, I mean, there's so many different groups of artists. I think a lot of artists have stayed on in Rhode Island because it's a good place to live. It's far more affordable than living in New York. So, in a way, the more artists that stay, the stronger that everybody gets, the more of a force the art world here will be. You know, people just can't afford to live in New York. I mean, I don't know how people do it, really. Pretty soon you're going to need a visa to go there. It's unbelievable, two, three thousand dollars a month, for an apartment the size of this kitchen, if you're lucky, I mean, really, it's amazing. It's really amazing. And even in Williamsburg, when we lived there, it wasn't expensive, but now it certainly is. Where do you go after that? I think maybe Queens, or something. And then Queens is going to start, you know. So it's getting further and further away from the city.

SG: It's going to reach the suburbs, soon.

TH: Yeah, yeah. I wouldn't mind living closer to New York. You know, so it didn't take so long to get into the city. We've thought about that - when the kids are out of school, maybe we'll move closer. My husband buys and sells antiquities, and for him, his. partner is in New York, so it would be convenient for him to be closer to New York. So who knows? We may do. that.

SG: Does he feel more attached to Rhode Island than you do?

TH: Oh, yeah. He's a born Rhode Islander. Both of his parents are here. I haven't lived at home since I was sixteen, you know, from boarding school on. So I think he's far more attached. I've tried desperately all these years to. get him to move someplace, but. . . I think he's more keen on the idea. His business takes him to Europe a whole lot, so I think he's definitely more open to the idea than he ever was.. I think he feels a commitment to his parents, as they start to, as they're getting older. So that's tough. But he has a brother here, that can take care of them, too, for a while. So, I don't know. We're all approaching that time when we have to start thinking about our parents, and so on.

SG: What do you think about the term "avant garde?"

TH: Avant garde? How do you mean? Like, just, as a name? When I think of avant garde, the main thing that comes - I mean, now I guess they don't call it avant garde. I think the new buzzword would be "cutting edge," which would mean avant garde. So, whenever I think of that, I remember when Mayor Cianci gave some speach at RISD about the arts. He was a fantastic supportrer of the arts. And he said, you know, how RI$D was really "avant-garde." So whenever I hear that, that's all I can really think of. I think the term, it just means cutting edge. You know, it's a sort of funny term because what can be thought of as cutting edge can be just completely ridiculous, really more about sensationalism than anything else. You know, just the same way it is with news. It's cutting edge because it's more shocking. It's just kind of a mixed-up term, I think. It's hard to put labels on things. People are always trying to put labels on people. Even with me, they try to label me as a certain kind of artist. I know that I am a minimal artist, even thoughi don't consider myself a minimal artist. They'll want to place me in some kind of category. People are always wanting to - I think that's a human instinct, to try to put things and organize things and put things in categories. But it doesn't exist, everything's changing, all the time, Nothing stays the same, really. Some things do!

SG: So you probably don't consider yourself an "avant-gardist," then?

TH: Um... well, I would like to think of myself as trying to . . .1 don't know...maybe...I'm not really trying to do anything. So, I think it so happened with the kind of work I'm doing not is considered that, because...I think that was totally by chance, on my part. Or it could be, there's something in the air, that a lot of . . . there's a whole... I did this show, at the LA - the University of California, in Long Beach in California. And I was part of a drawing show. It was called "By Hand, Precision, Repetition," and everything. Other things, I can't remember. I was amazed at the amount of people that were working in the same style that I was. You know, tiny, tiny little patterns, and things like that. I didn't know that there were other people working like this, at all. Sometimes there are movements that happen, and you wonder- where it comes from. It could be from the culture that we live in now, that's so rapidly moving, that everything's moving so fast. And so a lot of artists have slowed down and started to use repetition, and so on. It takes a lot of time, and it takes lot of focus, and it's very excessive. But, at the same time, it looks very contemporary because of the way it's laid

out because there's a real relationship between these kinds of patterns and computer screens, or things that we're looking at, around us. On a computer screen. something that's so so so fast, and then, on this other way, that's so so so slow. But there's a real relationship, between the two of them, visually. O that's sort of interesting to me. Only because a lot of it was discussed -there was a panel discussion, on this show. I went to the panel discussion, and when more and more people were sort of thinking about their work, and why they were doing it, and where it came from, and how it came about. So lots and lots of things came into it. Having a group of people talk like that, it's revealing to yourself, and to others.

SG: Can you talk about the evolution of what kind of art you've done?

TH: Well, this is so different from what I was -- well, actually, it isn't so different. I thought it was so different. I thought it was completely different, because I was working more figuratively or had more figurative components, than my sculpture. I thought this was completely new from what I was doing, but now...maybe the second year I was doing this, I started to look back at my own sculptures, looking at some slides for a lecture. And I went, "Oh, wait a minute! I did start this repetitive pattern in this, and I started it in this, and I started it in this!" But in a sculptural way. So I think it just evolved by itself. The size that I got, I know came from baseball players that I -- I was painting life sized baseball players for the Pawtucket Red Sox, here. So I had that job when I graduated from RISD. I was looking for work. And they were looking - I found out at the Career Services office that they were looking for somebody to paint baseball players, so I went there, and started painting baseball players. Every summer, I had a whole lot of baseball players. Life sized, over life sized, actually, to paint. They were the ones from the

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farm team, you know, the ones from the farm team. As long as they made it to the Boston Red Sox, then I would paint them. Yeah, so. I was really used to working on that scale. On 8 by 4 sheets of plywood. The actual drawing part came to me when a friend of mine sent me a drawing, and I sent a drawing back, on just a small scale. And I thought, "Oh, these would look really great on a really large scale." That's what I wanted to do. So, I was so familiar with that size. Otherwise I don think that I would have thought of drawing on that scale at all. You know, if I hadn't done the baseball players. Little did I know -- first of all, little did I know that I would be doing baseball players, you know, knowing my background and everything. That was really fun. Nothing could be more American than baseball! Then knowing how, in the end, it influenced my own work. You know, I always thought of it as a commercial thing, you know, I did it for fifteen years, every single summer. It was really fun.

SG: What did they do with them? Did they put them up?

TH: They put them all around the stadium. I think, all together, I must have painted sixty of them. At first, they were on the wall. Then I painted them directly on the wall. And then, they spray painted those off and then I started painting them on these 8 by 4 sheets of ply board. Which was better for me, because I could do it in my studio. I mean, I would start really early, like in April, and in the freezing cold and the wind would be whipping around, and my paint would freeze out of the can. It was just too cold. So I was happy when that happened. But that was a really interesting part of my life, painting those baseball players. Now, unfortunately, they took the original ones down, they digitally reproduced the original paintings, because it would be easier to take care of wood on the wall if they were, I guess, as photographs, They weren't as heavy, and the heavy frames, and... I

think they were donated to an art -- some art program, in Pawtucket. I think they were going to auction them. I have to look into it, because I'd really like to have one as my own. I really do want to do that. I think, as a matter of fact, Bruce ["Rudy Cheeks"] knew where they were.

SG: He seems to have his fingers on the pulse of pretty much everything.

TH: Everywhere, everywhere. He really does. I think he reads about ten newspapers at once and ten books at once and I mean, he's just incredible.

SG: How do you know him?

TH: I knew him through my husband, who was a musician for many years. They were in the same band - a band called The Young Adults. The funny thing is, I used to go and see the Young Adults. But I was crazy about the singer, and I never noticed the piano player, my husband. So when I met him and he told me he had been in the Young Adults, I said, "No! I used ot go and see that band all the time! You weren't in it." And he goes, "1 was too! I was the piano player. I wrote all the songs and everything." There were three of them, that wrote all the songs. He goes, "I was a major part of the

band!" And I said, "Amazingly enough, I never even noticed you." My life can be wrapped up in an hour and a half, huh? Pretty amazing.

SG: Oh, I'm not sure, I think that there are probably a . . . [unintelligible] Do you need to go?

TH: Nope, I'm fine. I still have to do this. [Referring to the egg/alum mixture.] I think now, for the future, you know...I'm in my early forties, now. So the future is really tough for me. Because at this age, you start looking at much older people. Whereas, before, in your twenties, you look at the people in their thirties, and you think they're old, And then in your thirties, you think the forties are old. And then, now, it's like, "Oh, God. That's what's coming next!" And it's kind of frightening, in a way. It is. I just hope that I stay healthy, and so on, so that I can keep doing my artwork, I really, that's what I can wish for. Now that I can, for the next time that I have here, that I stay healthy, so that I can still keep developing as an artist. I think that's one of the most wonderful things about being an artist. Is that it just carries you- you don't retire, you don't stop. Hopefully, you just keep making more and more and more and more discoveries. So that's, for the future, that's my greatest hope. That I can still make discoveries in my work and see what happens to it and how it develops and how it changes. It almost takes on a life of its own. You don't really know what's influencing you, and it somehow comes out in your work. I think the creative act is such a strange

Phenomenon. I don't even know how it happens. I'd love to see what it will look like, down the road, what will happen. It's changed so much already. For the future...and watching my kids grow up. That'll be incredible. That's just amazing, that's just been amazing. I mean, a few more years, and my son's going to be in college. I just can't believe it. Everybody said that, "Oh, it goes by so fast." When at first, I thought, "No, it's going to take forever." But it seems like it was yesterday. It really, truly, does. Not to him, I'm sure, because this is such a huge part of his life, it's the developmental part of his life, you know? But to a mother, and to that time spent, it's very fast. It goes by really, really fast. I just can't wait to see how they develop. I mean, just watching them from an infant, and then watching my son go through all the physical changes and then turn into a man, was so beautiful to watch...Just incredible. From the chubbiness to the more lankiness. To the changing- - the shoulders rising-, the nose getting longer, and the voice getting deeper, you know? It's like this transformation that's slowly going right along

right along side of you, and you think you're keeping still. You know, you feel like you're not moving as fast. You don't change as much in those years. Or maybe you do. But hopefully you don't. You know, I picked up the flute, recently. I started playing flute when I was pregnant with my second child. Then I stopped when I went to graduate school, because I didn't really have the time. And now I've picked it up again. So there's always new things. My husband plays the piano. So I thought, you know, well, I'll play the flute and he'll play the piano, the kids are gone...you wonder what the house is going to be like, when the house is going to be empty from all this activity and life from your children. Because four people - it's a huge change. When they're not home, it's just quiet. And then when they come back, there's all this energy, and it's so different.

SG: You said that you went to graduate school?

TH: Yeah, I went to graduate school later, I had started at RISD, and then I finished up at Vermont College. Because it was a program that I could work at home, as well. And with the small children I really wanted to. I didn't like the sculpture program at RISD, or the graduate school, at all. This other way worked out really, really well.

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Wonderful. I think I learned much more doing it that way, than I would have if I had stayed at RISD.

SG: Did you commute to Vermont and back?

TH: No, you would meet about every two months or so, or two and a half, three months, You would go up there for two weeks, and meet with teachers up there that were also there just for the two weeks., And then, you would select the teacher of your choice - anybody. You would call them up, any artist that you thought would be interesting to you. You would call them up, and ask them if they wanted to come to your studio every, I think it was, every three weeks, or something like that. And they would spend about four or five hours with you, in your studio, talking to you about your work. I had, I think I had maybe three different teachers. So there was a real one on one bond, one and one contact that was just really, really, special, that you didn't have at RISD, at all. There was a lot of critical writing, and a lot of research. That was good, too. Being forced to write again, and read all these books. That was good.

SG: I was wondering about your experience, like, as a woman, overall, how feminism, or just being a girl in Africa might have been difficult for oyu. If it was, or if it wasn't.

TH: Well you know, I never felt any difference between men and women growing up. I never was aware of that. I think I became more aware of it, when I came to the United States, for some reason. Although there's this myth about European men and women. And maybe if I was African, it might have been different, you know? But growing up there, I never had a sense of it at all. It really wasn't until I came back to this country that I became really aware of it. I hate it. You know, I hate it. It really bothers me. When I was a younger mother, you know, with two children, where I did a lot of things at home with them you really, I really felt left out in a lot of ways, because I had the children. And I think that was so unfair, because it's such a tremendous job. It's so important. The thought, just the thought, of having an inequality between men and women which proves there still is, just makes my stomach turn. Just makes my stomach turn. When I was in graduate school, I studied feminist art a lot, due to a teacher I had. When I was at RISD, a lot of that was going on, all the minimalism was going on. And I chose to actually learn more skills...I was more interested in learning how to draw really well, was more interested in 1eaming how to carve really well. You know, to do representational things. It wasn't until later that more ideas and -for a long time, my work had to do with being a woman. I don't know if you would call it feminist art, but it was my experience, as a woman. I think what's wonderful is that women have so much more of an opportunity to make the force. But that it's still there, in this day and age, just makes me so sick. Because, just today, on the cover of the Providence Journal, you see these two men kissing and then it says, "Mass Gays Win the Right to Wed." And so, here's something that's so new, so wonderful for the gay community. And then there's still this prejudice between men and women. I just...I don't know...it's awful. And I can sense it and I can see it. It really bothers me. That it's still there.

SG: How did you said that when you were a mother of your sons, when you were younger, you felt kind of left out. How so?

TH: I felt left out by the world at large. First of all, when you are a mother of small children, it's all time consuming. So your focus is really on them- and you just feel kind of outside of the whole working world, in a way. Or... I don't know, because it's new, too, and so you feel alienated from what you were used to. Because it becomes such a different world once you have children. You can't do half the things that you used to do. So I think that, in itself, alienates you. And then if there isn't support from the outside world, then you become really resentful, as well. One thing that I've always been fascinated with, that I've thought about, actually, is what happens? How does a man become like that? Because I am so close to my sons, and I feel their love for me, and their respect for me. And then, at a certain point- I'm not talking about mine - but you see it, how men change. How they become disrespectful of women. When they're children, they love their mothers so much. And where is that change, you know? What causes that change? I mean, also... in the Arab world, you know, where it can be such a misogynist society. How does that happen? From this deep love for a woman to this incredible hate. I just don't know where that turning point is. And how also, in some of these cultures, the mother can be all important, and have the respect, but then the outside women are like whores or something. Or considered like that. But the mother will still have this Madonna kind of image to her. But others, who aren't mothers, or become that, then they're something else. And I don't know where that change is...You know, I think women are just so strong, that men are just so scared of us. You know, I think they're scared to death, that they have to be like that. They're just scared. They're scared of our power. I mean, they are, women are very powerful. They're very beautiful, and they have a lot of power over men, because of their beauty. And I think they just feel so, in some ways, they're so weak. I think they're so weak in comparison. I really do. You know, now that I've been married, and gone through that whole thing, you know, it just seems to me that women are so much stronger. They really are, they really are. I mean, we don't have, I don't think we feel that towards men the way they feel that through us, you know? I think it's some kind of sickness, and I just don't know where it starts. I'm not sure where it starts. Do you?

SG: No.

TH: Do you know where that starts? It must be because of our strength, or something, that they feel threatened by, that they feel this way. Since they had a monopoly on the workforce, and they were the breadwinners, then they had the power that way. And the laws weren't in our favor, either, when it came to divorce, and so on. So they had that power, over us. But I mean, basically, our nature is stronger. Our very nature is stronger. And I think that's what they were afraid of. Ha! There!

SG: One more question, I think. Maybe I'll think of another while you're

answering, but. . . just generally, you said that you felt that your earlier work was about being a woman. I mean clearly, without seeing it, how was it about being a woman?

TH: Well, it was about - I did a lot of things with spoons, because I was serving my children by spoon, all the time. So I did lots of sculptures about spoons. Like there was one that I had a large spoon that was dipping into a skirt, and the skirt would sort of wrap around the spoon. And the spoon was just kind of coming out of the skirt.

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And the skirt was made out of lead. But it had little gold birds on it, so there was this sense of freedom. I made this other spoon, that's like a soup spoon, but it has a window in it. 50 that came from just standing at the sink here all the time and spooning and serving. That sense. I think a lot of it had to do with being of service to somebody else. Being of service to the child. I made a big spoon out of wire, with lego wheels, a little mother's head. I had, you know, things like that. Where I think I was constantly picking up...you have to become outside of yourself when you're doing anything for another person. So I don't thingk you would lose oyur identity, but definitely, everything is about somebody else. It's not about yourself anymore. So I think that's what was most reflective in my work. I'm trying to think of other things, but it's something like that, you know? It's mostly about serving other people, the process of continuously working for somebody else. Not that it wasn't enjoyable, sometimes~ but sometimes it was just enough. That's why I think men should really - especially now with women and men working -- that they really have to learn how to cook, and chip in. I mean I have a sense sometimes that we do twice as much. Because, for instance, my husband refuses to learn to cook, absolutely refuses. And I told him on my deathbed, I'm going to tell him that the one thing that made me so unhappy was his refusal to learn how to cook. To help me out with the cooking, you know? And, you know, he'll help clean a little bit, but not as thoroughly as a woman does it! So you end up doing twice as much, in a way! I mean, between teaching, taking care of the children, the household, and my work, you know, I'm pretty drained most of the time. So I think they have to learn to pitch in a little bit more on a more serious level if they're not just going to become tools for making babies and nothing else. There just won't be any marriage and they'll just be used to that and then forget it! Because then, you become resentful, and you get really angry, and then if you're earning your own money and you're doing this and you're doing that. And they're not helping...there has to be some kind of. medium there. I think, and I'm sure, that it is in most - well, I don't know. I think that's the sort of thing that has to be worked out. Most of the complaints that I hear between other women with children and careers and so on ...cleaning! It's always about cleaning! It's always about the household, the domestic duties, that they think that we should naturally want to do. It's like part of being a woman is part of being a domestic like that. And you do have some it. But not all the time! It's not all the time! It gets really boring, fast, if it's all the time.