“I want that!” enthused the farmer, excitedly pointing. Behind ADA Gallery’s storefront window, there waited an ornate rust-colored gate, ten feet in height, with impossibly delicate curvatures that apparently wooed him like a siren. Despite the none-too-insignificant price, he was determined; he was talking it over with ADA owner John Pollard. Sizing it up again, he decided, “It’s going on my barn!” And there was a slight pause. “But sir,” John answered cautiously, “it’s made of paper.”
The eye can’t resist Kirsten Kindler’s work. She recycles old magazines—her earlier pieces, like the aforementioned Gate, were comprised of solid-colored components she’d cut to form certain shapes, but that process has evolved to include (even depend on) existing images and their own shapes. Countless sets of stairs, columns, archways, and a couple of satellites make up the intricate Ultimate Tower, a piece that comments subtly on surveillance and its place in our modern lives. “It takes me months and months to collect all the pieces for the work; for this one, I had to wait until my collection of staircases was big enough, cutting them out when I found them. Then it comes together like a drawing, like a puzzle. The process has a very organic quality to it.” She takes time with her pieces, meticulously incising the images from their contexts, trimming them, mounting them on a thin layer of plastic, trimming them again. Then, finally, she’s ready to create something new from them, and a new shape spiderwebs outward as the pieces attach to each other on a level-marked wall in her studio. Keeping the weight balance in check is key, too; the final work is light as a feather, but to preserve its trompe-l’oeil feel, it must be without folds and sags.
The influences on those final designs are pretty magical. Ever thought that Richmond might have some artistic similarities to Morocco? The thought certainly never crossed my mind. Traveling through Casablanca, Fez, and Marrakesh in 1998, Kirsten was taking note of the ironwork there—it spoke to her sensibilities as a painter (she went to Syracuse, Parsons and the San Francisco Art Institute for painting). The play of the shadows amongst the swirling of metal planted a seed in her head, something she would later use to connect her brushwork, her history as a jewelry maker and her interest in reclaiming old materials. Upon her return to Richmond, she was struck by a remarkably similar design phenomenon during walks through Church Hill. “I saw the metalwork and architecture of Richmond in a new light… its influence on me is obvious. My work became more and more refined, and I began to feel liberated to make beautiful work, work with no specific reference other than its own beauty.” Good news, Kirsten: you succeeded brilliantly. Check out her artist page at the ADA web site, http://www.adagallery.com/Kirsten_Kindler.html, and be sure to get to ADA before August 30 to get a first-hand glimpse.

ADA Gallery | 228 W. Broad St. | 644.0100
WEB | http://www.adagallery.com/kristen_kindler.html