Artist India Thompson Weaves New Meaning into Everyday Items

When was the last time you really looked at your fridge? Not for milk or ketchup or that takeout you hope is still good, but really looked at it. Considered it. Its texture. Its shape. Its role in your life. “Never” is probably your answer here. But once you’ve seen India Thompson’s life-size fridge made of reed, you’ll probably pause the next time you’re in your kitchen.

Thompson’s new Looks Like Home exhibit on view at Mingei International Museum takes everyday items that most of us use on a daily basis—the things that usually make our lives faster and more convenient—and renders them useless but beautiful as intricately woven reed sculptures.

The museum’s name comes from the philosophy of Yanagi Sōetsu, who wrote in the essay “The Beauty of Miscellaneous Things” that “when one becomes too familiar with a sight, one loses the ability to truly see it. Habit robs us of the power to perceive anew, much less the power to be moved.”

Thompson joins artists who use material transformation to remake the familiar, like Katarina Kamprani who redesigns everyday objects in ways that render them physically unusable, or Do Ho Suh who recreates domestic spaces through labor-intensive processes. Thompson’s approach is quieter, more tender: She doesn’t distort. She weaves.

Seeing her work for the first time brought up emotions I hadn’t felt since I was a kid watching The Brave Little Toaster, the movie that taught me to hold space for the invisible servants that make up our homes. Thompson’s collection encourages a kind of reckoning with what it means to ignore the essential. It asks you to reconsider what “home” means in an era where so few can afford to buy one. Her sculptures are like a challenge to pause where you usually press on. Being close to her work is like taking a breath and not realizing how long you’ve been holding it.

Thompson was born in Los Angeles and is now a multidisciplinary artist based in San Diego. While ceramic is her primary artistic medium, this exhibition highlights her exploration of basketry—a thousand-year-old, time-consuming process and an art form she describes as one of “care and memory-keeping.”

Thompson also happens to 9-to-5 as Mingei’s studio program specialist. Assistant Curator Ariana Torres didn’t know about Thompson’s basketry work until she saw Thompson post a picture of her woven toilet paper on Instagram. Then came a woven microwave.

“It seemed really poignant and uncanny,” Torres says. “It was mundane, but it was also kind of quiet … something you wouldn’t think anybody would focus on.”

Thompson began making art five years ago in her college ceramic class called Handbuilding, and she immediately fell in love. The first art she ever shared with others were her ceramic figurines: round, red-clayed pot-like sculptures with minimalist, barely-there faces in a variety of expressions. Some look surprised. Some look very concerned. Some look like they spend Friday nights at a Star Wars cantina. She calls them “Moots.”

The definition of the English word moot, in verb form, is “to gather and discuss an important topic,” as Thompson explains. “They look so serious … like they’ve wriggled through the earth to talk to each other.”

Thompson found her way to basketry three years ago and learned by watching YouTube videos.

“It’s something you can do at home,” she says. “And I love a repetitive process.”

The toilet paper roll came to her while making a cylinder that she thought looked like a roll of Charmin. Then she thought maybe she should make one on purpose. “I just thought it would be funny and really challenging, too,” she says. “Because there’s no tutorial for that. Why would there be, right?”

She figured it out and shared it on Instagram. People loved it. It received more than double the amount of likes and comments she usually got, but what really struck her was how many people came up to her in person to talk about how they connected with it. That, to her, was even more meaningful than the online response.

So she kept going and chose to make a microwave next.

“[It’s an] object we all own and we all need,” she says. “Yet no one really cares about a microwave.”

She started the collection during a time when her landlord was coming into her apartment constantly with a crew of people, making notes of what they were going to remodel without ever acknowledging her in the room.

“It was such a weird fishbowl moment,” she says. “I technically don’t own my apartment, but I still consider it home. I live here and I pay to live here, but this isn’t mine. We live in this space and I call it my apartment. I call it my refrigerator. But it could be taken away at any moment.”

It dawned on her how much we depend on things we don’t own, how little we notice the things we rely on every day, and how temporal the word “my” can be.

The woven refrigerator is the largest in Thompson’s collection at Mingei, and inside it you can find additional woven items like a ranch bottle, a Brita filter, and a sandwich on a plate. You can’t open the freezer door, but if you look carefully between the gaps of woven reed, you might be able to see a few other things Thompson made and placed inside.

“If you really look closely,” she explains, “you’ll be rewarded.”

The post Artist India Thompson Weaves New Meaning into Everyday Items appeared first on San Diego Magazine.