Object Project

Photos by Jeff McLane

Featuring: Rosha Yaghmai, Dianna Molzan, and Patrick Jackson

Object Project is a new arm of our ongoing portrait series.
Over the next year, we will shift the focus from artist portraits, and instead zoom in to examine the objects that live in the much-mythologized artist’s studio. Using the “chain-letter” format, I have chosen the first artist, and each artist will choose the one that follows, forming an organic network. Tasked with a studio visit, artists have gone on scavenger hunts in each other’s studios, hoping to uncover an object that speaks to them. The result is something idiosyncratic, a discovery of things which, by proxy, provide a tangential portrait of each artist included.

Alex Olson on Rosha Yaghmai

Rosha has been using color therapy glasses for years now. I tried on a pair and while they may or may not alter a mood, they certainly transform the view, making common sights seem more apparent and extraordinary. It’s a complete pleasure to see the world literally in a different light, and astounding how much more there is to observe and consider given this subtle shift. This experience is a lot like viewing Rosha’s work, with its familiar yet altered states of mind. She compiles her visions— builds and molds and sculpts with them—, returning objects to the world as tools for transformation.

Rosha Yaghmai on Dianna Molzan

Diana keeps nothing to distract her in the studio, so what there is stands out. This red PuraFlame heater gives the illusion of fire and emits real heat. A fire can be a comforting presence, almost another person in the room. Energy, movement, light. The perfect company.

Dianna Molzan on Patrick Jackson

Badlands the script—I discovered it by chance—turns out to be the genesis relic for everything in Patrick Jackson’s studio. It’s plumb dumb luck.

To hold the copy of a copy of the typed origin(al) Malick story is to imagine it held for the first time, a manual without motion, not yet cast in celluloid, no Spacek, no Sheen. The typed words are before all that in June 1972. “Brian Probyn,” legibly named in cursive marking the cover. “Please return to: 9212 Cordell Drive,” as courteous and matter-of-fact as anything Kit might say in Holly’s narration written by Malick.

Jackson talks about how objects in the film serve the heroes’ impulses: shoes, lid, lamp, print, toaster, comb, and pen. Handling and declaring mundane items transforms them into symbolic
and prized objects. This script was found in a used bookstore and gifted to Jackson 15 years ago when the film was already important to him. I don’t know if it was given as sacred object or reading material, but given that Jackson calls it his “Bible,” it may be both things at once.

This essay was originally published in Carla issue 10.