Interview with Terri Jones

by Allen Frame

Terri Jones's exhibition, “Drawing a Line from 1993-2003,” was presented recently in Memphis by Delta Axis at the Power House, formerly a power generating plant for the downtown railroad station. Jones, who lives and works in Memphis, was the recipient of an NEA Fellowship for Works on Paper in 1992, and in 1999 she was chosen for an artist residency exchange in Switzerland through the International Austausch Ateliers Region Basel/ Austin Peay State University, Clarksville, Tennessee. She is represented by David Lusk Gallery in Memphis, where her last solo show was in 2003.


Allen Frame:   Let's talk about your Delta Axis Power House show. Is it a retrospective or an overview of a certain period of production?

Terri Jones:   The show is divided into two parts. New installations made specifically for the Power House and a selection of work from the past ten years.

In the North Gallery, Peter Fleissig, curator of the Power House, selected works from the past ten years. This timeframe also represents the years I have lived and worked in the South Main Historical District. My home and studio is located between the Mississippi River and the Lorraine Motel.


Red Wax Line, 2004, Courtesy of the artist

AF:   What are the central concerns in this body of work?

TJ:   Firstly, it's about drawing. In the new work, I simply wanted to make red lines inside and outside the Power House. Active lines. I wanted to speak to the “essence" of the site and to respond intimately with its dimensions. The Power House is a raw, industrial space that once contained the activity of a steam-generated, coal-burning power plant. It contains both tall, light-filled spaces and small cavernous spaces.

Outside the entrance, brilliantly blooming red zinnias grow from spaces where the broken concrete has exposed small areas of earth. A drawing with red flowers.

Inside (and below-ground level), in a small, damp room (approximately 12'x 12'), a long, narrow copper channel extends from the thick concrete. Red, molten wax (at a constant 165 degrees) is inside the 1.5" x1" x 9' channel. The smell of heat and wax permeate the cave-like room. A red, heat-generated line.

The South Gallery is a massive light-filled space, approximately 50' x 30' x 30'. Thirty feet above, windows surround the space. The gallery is both above and below ground level. On the floor, and pointing toward the high walls are five wedge-shaped objects. Their material: red, cast glass. High above, a red powder (industrial floor-sweeping compound) fills the base of each window forming a red line around the gallery.

From the South Gallery, a doorway leads into another under-ground space. The dark walls are streaked with rust. A large circular mirror, facing the entrance, holds the reflection of what's inside. At the far end of the space, three lights hang above a vitrine that is filled with dirt. Tiny seedlings are sprouting.


South Gallery, Untitled (Chimney), Courtesy of the artist

AF:   Your home and studio, a former railroad hotel in downtown Memphis, is next door to the place from which, according to myth, (I'll go with other "conspiracy" theories myself) James Earl Ray supposedly shot the Rev. Martin Luther King. The Lorraine Motel is across the street from your back entrance, and now since the National Civil Rights Museum has acquired the boarding house at 418 S. Main, the museum is next door to you. You even share the Main St. fa?ade. How do you feel about the proximity to that important piece of Southern history, and in general, how does the South's history of racial conflict influence your work?

TJ:   Two pieces included in the work from the last ten years specifically address this topic. Merging Histories, Shared Secrets, or NOT YET (1995) is about the Mississippi River and the Underground Railroad.

Plot (1996) is about rewriting history. One of the myths in the King assassination suggests that the fatal bullet came from the bushes across from the motel. These bushes were subsequently removed by the sanitation department, thereby destroying any evidence to support that theory.


South Gallery, Untitled (Wedge), Courtesy of the artist

AF:   The "redlining" in your new work at the Power House has strong associations, both in its suggestion of blood, and therefore, lines as veins, or trails of blood at a crime scene, or just as a reference to the building as body, and also in suggesting a possible reference to the "redlining" of other contexts?he highlighting of texts, and the "redlining" which, according to the dictionary, means "a discriminatory practice by which some financial institutions refuse to grant mortgages or insurance in urban areas they consider to be deteriorating." The red "drawing" and linking of the components of the installation through color convey a sense of alarm and urgency about issues connected with the particular site, such as the proximity to a site and context of assassination and political malevolence, or the existence of the site within a context of abandonment and urban renewal. Regarding the latter, I'm thinking of your own relocation downtown ten years ago as a pioneer effort in the cultural renewal of a formerly derelict neighborhood, and how this engages with the real-estate connotations of "redlining." What do you think of these possible readings? Also, I am wondering whether you are familiar with the Cildo Meireles installation, "Red Shift," in which his extensive use of red referenced a violent political period in Brazil.

TJ:   Redlining is a new term for me. Unfortunately, I missed the Meireles' show. I do know a few pieces and find his work extremely provocative. My use of red isn't so politically charged. However, the room with the red wax line has provoked viewers to proceed with "caution" simply in response to the characteristics of the room and the smell of hot wax. The molten wax inside the shiny copper channel does connote blood and body. My use of the red is inherent in the materials I chose. Red flowers, red wax, red glass, and the red (floor sweeping) compound. It is a response to making art specifically for the Power House. It's architecture. It's history. And it's about sharing a place (South Main Historical District, Memphis). So the Power House's proximity to my home is crucial to the work. Daily waterings of zinnias outside ... maintaining the molten wax ... sweeping bits of red powder that might have fallen from their ledge at the base of the windows ... and every Wednesday, replanting the seeds in the vitrine to assure that their leaves will just be breaking the soil when the exhibition opens on Friday.


Drawing a line with flowers, Courtesy of the artist

AF:   What has it been like to work with a curator, such as Peter Fleissig, who has been so supportive of the Young British Artists scene of the 90's?

TJ:   Peter challenged me. When he invited me to "respond" to the Power House, he had seen little of my work. Two particular pieces were responses to industrial spaces. ...both in the South Main District. Vault, hundreds of pennies installed in the space of a missing brick; and Brewery Line, 250' of flourescent lights and paper delineating the decorative ironwork of a staircase in a four-story open atrium. Vault only measured a few inches while Brewery Line was sited in a massive old brewery. Both works began with the place. Likewise, the Power House, Peter feels, is a space to respond to. In my mind several of the artists that Peter appreciates question art's function and by doing so expand the viewer's experience beyond a passive viewing.


Inside and Out, Courtesy of the artist

AF:   How would you characterize the reception to contemporary visual art in Memphis?

TJ:   The visual art community is small in Memphis. In the early to mid nineties, a number of hard-working, grass-roots arts initiatives committed to contemporary art were happening. Delta Axis is the one that has persevered. So, while struggling, there is an on-going desire to promote contemporary art in not-for-profit spaces.



© Terri Jones - Allen Frame 2004