Molly Blumberg

How did you get into making art?

I’ve been making art for as long as I can remember. I grew up in a house with a craft closet full of just about any art supply that I could have wanted and my parents have always been incredibly supportive and enthusiastic in fostering my love of art-making. I was really lucky to grow up knowing professional artists, so while I didn’t fully realize that this was the path that I would follow, I always intuitively knew that it was within the realm of possibilities. I had some really phenomenal art teachers who saw my passion and potential and they certainly played big parts in steering me towards pursuing art in a more serious manner. It’s essential to never under-estimate the power of feeling truly seen by an adult as a young person developing a sense of self and purpose.

What are you currently working on?

I’m in the early process of preparing for a solo show in 2026 that will explore the hybridity of bodies and domestic objects co-existing and evolving into one another within private spaces. This show will be held in three large window spaces and I hope that the window installations will create the effect of peering into a domestic space where sculptures exist in casual repose. I loved making dioramas as a child and I’m relishing the potential to create these large-scale street level dioramas. Viewers will be able to perceive the work from the outside, to peer in and be a snoopy neighbor, but not actually enter the space.

What inspired you to get started on this body of work?

This work is a progression into a new iteration of a long-term and evolving project, Provisional Bodies – an ongoing series in which I’ve asked myself how to build a new body. During grad school, at a time when I was navigating both intense academic pressure and personal health issues, I decided to start cannibalising my belongings to make body-sized sculptures. Colanders, blankets, coat hangers, table legs all became the skeletons and armatures of new bodies which I later encased in membranes of handmade paper. The handmade paper, having dried and shrunk around the underlying forms, gave hints to its interior objects but also obscured the inner mechanisms at play, a body partially revealed. This project has been threaded into my studio practice over the last five years, and while it has changed and shifted, it has always pushed me to investigate my gravitation towards using found objects in my work; I’ve come to really believe that our bodies are not so separate from the objects and contexts of our surroundings

I had a really big push to finish a selection of these pieces for a show in the spring of 2024 during a really tumultuous time in my life and afterwards hit a wall of creative burnout. It took about 9 months to find my groove again, partially in thanks to time I spent away from my everyday life at a residency at the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center where I began to rediscover the joy of play in my studio (and a supply of reclaimed bed springs from the local salvage store.)

I also find that I get bored by repeating my process and once a creative formula feels too automatic, whether through mastery of a material process or through a realized conceptual approach, I need to shake things up or move on. To jumpstart this newest body of work, I took a rug tufting class, and while that process has not really entered my studio lexicon, I felt that it opened up a new approach towards color, quick mark-making, and a more playful reference towards materiality.

This newer work also strays a bit from references towards creating a human body into a more floral/botanic bodily hybrid. This influence comes in part from my job as a professional gardener. Working with plants has taught me so much about slowing down and looking closely, how to ebb and flow with the seasons, and how to tend to the little things and I’m realizing the shifts that happen as I train that perspective towards myself and my own body. I’m just beginning to find the articulation towards this phase of work, but I find that an exploration into how our bodies and plants could theoretically grow and evolve together and into one another has helped ease some of the ever present anxiety of living in a consumer capitalist society.

Do you work on distinct projects or do you take a broader approach to your practice?

My studio is a space of constant flux and motion and the works that I’m building in the space tend to have mutual influence on each other. I work on multiple pieces at once (it’s not uncommon for me to have over a dozen works in progress out in my studio,) and by nature rather than design I tend to work in series as these pieces sit in both conceptual and formal dialogue together. I work modularly, and rather than beginning the process with a specific piece in mind I start by creating smaller elements that will eventually coalesce into a larger work. I’m a 3D collage maker – I collect found objects and make repeatable forms, casting and recasting pieces with an immediate sense towards color, shape, and materiality; I get particular satisfaction in finding the spaces where these fragments meet and combining and fusing pieces into larger forms. I build and disassemble work without much preciousness and often elements of previous work get regurgitated into new pieces as my studio practice evolves.

What’s a typical day like in your studio?

Because I don’t get nearly as much time in my studio as I’d like, I’m pretty regimented about my studio days and I’m protective over the time I have carved out in my week for my practice. Physically being in my studio space is very important to me, but what productivity can look like on any given day once I’m there can vary widely. I can be a very quick and decisive worker, and sometimes I find myself making big moves on multiple pieces at once, and other times I’ll spend a lot of my day sitting on the floor and just looking at my work. Certain processes that I work with can be tedious and repetitive and some days I go into my studio knowing that all I’ll be doing is executing this sort of task. I almost always have podcasts or music playing, and I’ve come to really appreciate the sense of removal from the outside world that comes when I have my headphones on in my windowless studio. I work to constantly remind myself that production and productivity are not the same thing, and sometimes it’s essential to slow down.

Who are your favorite artists?

I’ll start with my friends. Having thoughtful and talented artists also be some of my favorite people in my life is truly a blessing. Rachel Hefferan, Théo Bignon, Anna Patrick, and Yvonne Martinez not only comprise my favorite group chat but they all have incredible sensibilities towards materiality and maintaining joy as a foundation in art-making. Kailun (Quentin) Yang makes deeply strange and sensitive drawings and illustrations and was also instrumental in helping me bring me back to painting as a sketchbook practice. I have had some powerful conversations with my friend and musician Gillian McGhee (Hi Ho) about pursuing creative work in the face of illness while also remaining gentle towards yourself and sensitive to the beauty in the world.

To add some of my “bigger name” favorite artists: Ann Hamilton, Louise Bourgeois, Eva Hesse, Arlene Shechet, Huma Bhabha, Anselm Kiefer, Mika Rottenberg

Where do you go to discover new artists?

I moved to Chicago for grad school in 2018, but didn’t anticipate staying after I finished my degree. Partially due to circumstance, and partially by choice, I’ve continued living here for seven years and I don’t anticipate leaving anytime soon thanks in large part to the incredible art community in this city. The Chicago arts scene is a force, and I’m particularly drawn to discovering new work and new artists through its massive number of artist-run projects, galleries, and experimental spaces. Chicago has such a wealth of talent, innovation, and spirit and I feel incredibly lucky to be a part of this community.
I’ve also had the honor of attending a number of residencies where I’ve met artists from all over the world. It’s amazing to see not only the impressive work that my colleagues make, but to also have access and insight into each other’s processes and to see what truly happens when we get to live within the work.