Rosie Clements is a multidisciplinary artist working in photography, sculpture, and print. Her practice is fundamentally image-based, and her recent work transforms digital photographs into physical objects to explore the boundaries between material and virtual worlds. Rosie has exhibited across the United States and internationally, including a recent solo show, "Pure Semblance”, at McLennon Pen Co. in Austin, TX in May 2024, and an upcoming group showcase "Public Life" with Toxic Arts Gallery in London in August of 2024. Her work has been featured in a variety of publications both virtually and in print, including BOOOOOOOM, Southwest Contemporary, Lenscratch, and It’s Nice That.

In addition to her artistic practice, Rosie has been a dedicated member of the MASS Gallery Artist Collective & Non-Profit in Austin and is co-founder of the Arches Music & Art Collective in Tucson. She holds a MFA in Studio Art from the University of Texas at Austin and a BS in Photography from Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, Arizona. She makes music under the monikers Hormone and Full Heal.

We’re excited to have you with us, Rosie! How have you been doing lately, and what’s been keeping you busy?

Hello ait team! I’m honored to be speaking with you. I’m doing well! I recently finished my MFA in studio art at the University of Texas at Austin, and I just relocated to Los Angeles. I’m loving it here. I’m busy exploring the city, and also working to redefine what my art practice looks like, now that I no longer have access to the tools, resources, and space of an institution.

You work across different mediums, but is there one that feels most like “home” to you?

Definitely photography. I’ve been taking pictures since I was a teenager, when my dad bought a little point-and-shoot camera for family photos. Although my practice is expanding and incorporating other mediums, everything I make is grounded in images.

Is your art more about capturing a sudden burst of inspiration, or do you prefer a more planned and organized approach? Maybe it's a bit of both?

A bit of both, I think. I definitely lean towards following bursts of inspiration—sometimes I’ll go into this almost frenzied period of allowing myself the freedom to make everything my heart desires until I burn out, then stepping back to reassess and edit. But I also really benefit from some structure. For me, the way to balance these two ends of the spectrum is by setting some parameters for myself, but factoring in some space to play within those parameters.

For example, maybe I have an idea for a photoshoot. I’ll set a date and time, reach out to a model, envision the final shot I’m going for, the outfit, etcetera. But then during the shoot, I keep my mind open to new possibilities. The model might suggest something, I might find a material that would be fun to incorporate, things like that. I always give myself room to play. Often, the shot I originally had in mind is not the image I wind up with. It’s generative for me to set rules and then break them.

Could you show us a picture of something in your daily life that inspires you?

This book, Photography is Magic, has been an endless source of inspiration for me for the past year. It’s a survey of over 80 contemporary photographers whose work contributes to a post-internet conversation about what images mean in an image-saturated world. Most of the photographers in this book are pushing the boundaries of the medium and incorporating other disciplines into their practice. It’s really incredible.

We’re really into your ‘Pure Semblance’ series. What was the vision behind it and how did it all come together?

The works in Pure Semblance are made using a UV printer: a unique type of digital printer that uses ultraviolet light to cure the ink as soon as it is applied to a surface.

While in grad school, I was lucky to have access to a small UV printer in the university’s fabrication lab. I immediately started experimenting with it and printed my photographs on every kind of surface I could find. Many of these experiments didn’t work—the photos would be completely illegible or, sometimes, too legible. One afternoon, I found a sheet of bubble wrap on the sidewalk and decided to try printing on it. I was so excited by the effect—the bubbles reminded me of squishy, tactile pixels. I’m drawn to the way details are rendered on top of the bubbles versus the spaces between them. The most exciting part of these pieces in this series for me is that they are only legible from the right angle or distance, and up close they’re almost completely abstracted. This quality is hard to convey in documentation of the work—you really have to see them IRL!

In your work, there’s a strong emphasis on the materiality of images. What does the word “materiality” mean to you, especially in the context of today’s digital age?

For me, materiality in this context references the physical characteristics, substance, and tactile qualities of objects and textiles, and how these aspects interact with digital technologies. Materiality is a way to bridge the physical and the digital, by emphasizing the importance of tangible experiences and sensory engagement in an increasingly virtual world.

I think it’s important to remember that even the most virtual experiences have a material basis (think of the physical infrastructure that makes technology possible, like servers, cables, and devices). I find myself drawn to materials that seem to have a relationship with technology in some way: surfaces that are shiny, metallic, translucent, or luminescent.

Given that bubble wrap is usually thrown away after just one use, how does its disposability influence the messages you explore in your art?

The disposability of bubble wrap mirrors the fleeting nature of digital pictures that are easily shared and forgotten in our fast-paced, media-saturated world. The bubbles stand in for the individual pixels that make up digital imagery, connecting the physicality of the material to its digital counterpart, and emphasizing the delicate, temporary nature of both. I want the viewer to consider the value we place on the things we consume—whether digital or physical—and challenge us to be more mindful of the impact our habits have on the environment and our perception of the world.

Artists often have a love-hate relationship with their work. Is there a piece you’ve created that you struggled with or weren’t initially happy with, but later grew to love?

There’s not a specific piece that comes to mind, but I definitely can relate to the love-hate relationship. For me, I’m often really excited about the latest piece I’ve made, and I typically feel that it’s my best. But once I make something new, the former work seems ‘bad’. This can be motivating, because I’m always driven to make new work. But I think it also prevents me from being able to effectively build upon my older work.

Additionally, I have a love-hate relationship with photography itself. I’m clearly captivated by the medium, but there are also so many aspects of it that frustrate me. I’ve never really felt like I fit in the photography community. It is still a very traditional medium, and there is often so much emphasis placed on the gear. It can be a bit of a ‘boy’s club’ still. I’m a very intuitive photographer, I like shooting quickly, taking a lot of pictures with a digital camera versus spending a lot of time setting up one perfect shot on a large format camera and developing it by hand in the darkroom. I really had to defend my way of working while in grad school. It’s frustrating to me that the photography world still feels so exclusive although I’ve been taking pictures for so long now, but I have made my own community within it.

When you’re not creating art, what do you enjoy doing to recharge and find inspiration?

Swimming, playing or listening to music, or spending time with friends.

When you look at your work now, do you see a thread that ties it all together, something that you think encapsulates who you are as an artist?

I think all of my work tends to be driven by a sense of wonder and a love of play. I was talking to an artist colleague of mine recently who explained that she likes to hold onto an aspect of the “beginner’s mind” in her practice, and I could relate so much to that. I used to feel embarrassed about the aspects of photography that I’d never put time into mastering, and I feel like a complete novice with sculpture and print—two mediums I’ve begun incorporating into my practice recently. But after talking with this colleague, I realized I could own the decision to remain playful instead of apologizing for it. I think there’s something really powerful about the choice to resist the pressure to ‘master’ your craft. To me, being playful doesn’t mean acting like nothing matters, it means prioritizing being open and free, allowing space for the unexpected to happen. In this mindset, every moment has meaning. When we are playful, we’re more present and engaged, and we can allow for genuine interactions and surprises.

As someone who bridges the gap between traditional and digital art forms, what advice would you give to emerging artists looking to experiment with new mediums?

Embrace playfulness and exploration. As technology evolves, stay curious and open to experimenting with new tools and techniques. While it's important to be critical and advocate for better policies and governance for tech, don’t let pessimism about the future overcome you. Strive to make technology work for you, instead of on you.

Rosie’s Quick Picks

Studio chaos or studio order?

Chaos!!!

Morning creativity or late-night inspiration?

I’m a morning person all the way.

Exploring the unknown or refining the familiar?

The unknown.

Storytelling through a series or a single, powerful image?

I struggle with compiling a series. I’ll go with a single powerful image.