ABOUT

Kathranne Knight holds an MFA from The Yale University School of Art. Her drawings speak in the packed way of a symbol, often stripped down and elemental, but ricocheting with associations and metaphoric possibilities. Impermanence, multiplication, and issues of representation are plumbed through materials as various as fly paper, silver, tears, and graphite; while the action and materiality of drawing are stretched, performed, and reconfigured. Knight has been artist in residence at Donald Judd’s Chinati Foundation and the Connemara Conservancy Foundation, Dallas, Texas. Her work has been shown in The Danforth Museum of Art, Mass MoCA, The Des Moines Art Center, Carroll and Sons Gallery, (Boston, MA), Geoffrey Young Gallery, (Gt. Barrington, MA) Muriel Guepin Gallery, (New York, NY) and many others. Knight was an Iowa Artist Fellow in 2014, awarded an Iowa Artist Grant in 2015, and is co-publisher of the art+poetry press, Correspondence Publishing.

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2016-2018 – The Shape of your Absence + TRACE. To know, mark, and remember through the act of tracing. It is the beginning of knowledge; a taxonomy of shape and the simple act of going around a thing belies its profound instruction. I lay my head on paper and try dragging the pencil around it; this absurd attempt at self-description. I lay my daughter on a page go around her body with pencil. She appears very small on the page, much smaller than I feel her when she is present. Yet, it is the actual residue of her living form. It is a document and testament to her existence. It’s striking that the process reveals what is no longer present – The shape of Absence. A bittersweet acknowledgement of something once there but now gone.

2015- The End of the Line.  There is a heightened sense of meaning, an intense awareness of things in the world during grief.  It throttles signification into high gear and no material or event is just material or event, but a major forecast and token of how things are either fully connected or not at all.  It is a broad net.  Sticky, amber flypaper rolled into links that become part of a chain; tracings of a smooth, arched river stone; paper rising up to hold aloft and then absorb a tear, all become metaphor or simile or prophecy.

2010-2014 The line as horizon is a picture device and a psychological place. In the drawing the horizon is made up of dashed lines, which refer to the process of its own making and provide a rhythmic, syncopated space. It is a place where two things meet, not only land and sky or water and sky, but also day meeting night in the form of a sunset. You ride off into it—the end of one thing and the beginning of another, uncertain future. While we might think of the sunset as a comforting trope, I want to show the hovering, unstable moment produced at this juncture of past and present. Formally, the thing is built through the accretion of vertical and horizontal lines taken from Mondrian, Van Gogh, and the Bauhaus Weavers. For a bit of big sky romanticism I searched Thomas Cole, Donald Judd and the films of John Ford.

2005-2009  A single dot of ink repeated randomly until it isn’t random any longer. Sometimes, a stamp depicting the dots is used alongside the actual handmade dots.