Natalie A. Martínez
curator
Why The Alice? Why now? Why not? That’s my answer for most things. I could argue that things just go more real, more urgent. And perhaps, in part they did. But for lots of us, lots of communities, things have been bad for a while. It just seems now people are listening a bit more. The degree to which I see my students, friends, and family experiencing anxiety, and unrest, is no doubt exponential these days. I think for all these reasons art—and the experiences, expressions and emotions that are articulated under such duress, are absolutely necessary. |
What are you most excited to learn from the other Alices this year?
Julia and Molly are dear and old friends of mine. So, it’s exciting to work with them in another capacity—as co-conspirators. I’m learning different edges, dimensions to them as people, as thinkers and artists. Julia and Molly’s thoughtfulness about the way one might enter (and be intimidated even) by the space of a gallery and the art world at large is a thought-fullness and attending to the politics of art I hope to learn. Julia has an understanding of process and the making of materials, the labor it takes to produce such objects of art that is necessary under late capitalism and consumer culture. Molly’s interdisciplinary bent and her curatorial politics around being a white-woman supporting queer, trans, artists of color, without tokenizing or co-option, I deeply respect. She trusts the artists’ vision and processes. Satpreet, is already teaching me how to be a better writer and take risks visually on the page. She’s incredibly humble too. As a mixed-raced queer ChicanX/LatinX person myself, Satpreet’s outspoken-ness about the erasure and violence in the art world against communities of color, and in particular women of color, is a needed intervention in the art spaces of Seattle. Surface is a provocateur on design and the way it syntaxes our everyday lives. Surface and I both grew up in the Tacoma area. We are both about the same age, and perhaps experienced a bit what it was like to be an outsider. I find it comforting to know this thoughtfulness around the impact of gentrification, the displacement of communities, has emerged (in part) out of a locale, a place that we share, and that I so couldn’t wait to leave when I was 18 years old. I would also love to write an abstract as deeply theoretical yet clear as Surface’s. Questions I look forward to answering with her are how might we dis/re-locate the privileging of sight in art, and challenge it through the economies of sound? As a poet and linguist, I’m always thinking at the back of my throat/mouth/tongue/palate. What kinds of sonorous architectures can we build and play together in?
What is your day job?
I’m a tenured professor at Bellevue College where I teach writing, literature, and starting this next year, courses in our Cultural and Ethnic Studies Program. I would potentially be teaching courses in LatinX studies, Indigenous studies, Queer Studies, and the Politics of Space, Place, and Cultural Memory. I’m also hoping to return to the kind of work that was most urgent and important to me years ago---writing with incarcerated women and immigrant/refugee communities as a means to advocate for their rights and express their experiences.
Julia and Molly are dear and old friends of mine. So, it’s exciting to work with them in another capacity—as co-conspirators. I’m learning different edges, dimensions to them as people, as thinkers and artists. Julia and Molly’s thoughtfulness about the way one might enter (and be intimidated even) by the space of a gallery and the art world at large is a thought-fullness and attending to the politics of art I hope to learn. Julia has an understanding of process and the making of materials, the labor it takes to produce such objects of art that is necessary under late capitalism and consumer culture. Molly’s interdisciplinary bent and her curatorial politics around being a white-woman supporting queer, trans, artists of color, without tokenizing or co-option, I deeply respect. She trusts the artists’ vision and processes. Satpreet, is already teaching me how to be a better writer and take risks visually on the page. She’s incredibly humble too. As a mixed-raced queer ChicanX/LatinX person myself, Satpreet’s outspoken-ness about the erasure and violence in the art world against communities of color, and in particular women of color, is a needed intervention in the art spaces of Seattle. Surface is a provocateur on design and the way it syntaxes our everyday lives. Surface and I both grew up in the Tacoma area. We are both about the same age, and perhaps experienced a bit what it was like to be an outsider. I find it comforting to know this thoughtfulness around the impact of gentrification, the displacement of communities, has emerged (in part) out of a locale, a place that we share, and that I so couldn’t wait to leave when I was 18 years old. I would also love to write an abstract as deeply theoretical yet clear as Surface’s. Questions I look forward to answering with her are how might we dis/re-locate the privileging of sight in art, and challenge it through the economies of sound? As a poet and linguist, I’m always thinking at the back of my throat/mouth/tongue/palate. What kinds of sonorous architectures can we build and play together in?
What is your day job?
I’m a tenured professor at Bellevue College where I teach writing, literature, and starting this next year, courses in our Cultural and Ethnic Studies Program. I would potentially be teaching courses in LatinX studies, Indigenous studies, Queer Studies, and the Politics of Space, Place, and Cultural Memory. I’m also hoping to return to the kind of work that was most urgent and important to me years ago---writing with incarcerated women and immigrant/refugee communities as a means to advocate for their rights and express their experiences.