Caroline Cox

Caroline Cox is a multimedia artist who works with spatial dynamics to connect the external world with our internal experience. She activates the natural phenomena that surround us, creating tension by manipulating spring steel, gravity, refracted light, and other processes based in the physical world. The work is made of translucent materials that are suspended in space, creating kaleidoscopic effects as light passes through a string of lenses or bounces off the glass tubes used in laboratories. Like a scientist conducting quirky research in torque and texture, Cox investigates the tensile properties of her materials, pushing them beyond their normal capacities to find their highest form of expression. Indeed, the unorthodox sculptures and installations have a scientific vibe, as if Cox is exploring the effects of friction, gravity, and movement in a controlled environment. Once we recognize that its construction depends solely on physics (no glue, no duct tape), we experience the work’s energetic presence and radiating properties. By interacting with the processes that govern the planets and solar systems, we become an integral part of the piece, held together by the same invisible forces. The constant motion, vibration, and mutating light creates its own gravitational pull, drawing us into the present moment again and again. This experiential aspect is the essence of Cox’s work, and a large part of her practice is devoted to configuring her materials in new ways that allow her to see something fresh and compelling. Cox’s absorption in her process is as dynamic as the natural forces that it engages, and we’re drawn into its orbit by sheer curiosity. There are many layers in the work, some revealed and some veiled, as Cox weaves her private memories and associations into the fabric and forces of the physical universe.

MH: Your work is unusual in its absence of traditional art materials. Did you relinquish them because they got in your way? Or did you never use them in the first place?
CC: I started out as a painter, so I used traditional materials when I was a student at Sacramento State. One of the assignments that my teacher, Oliver Lee Jackson, gave me was to attach an object to the surface of my painting, and that launched me into working in space. I loved the physicality of the object on the canvas, so I started using found objects and bas relief. Now I use magnifying lenses from the Dollar Store, black mesh used for vegetable packing, glass tubes that are used in labs, and spring steel that has a lot of industrial uses. I like that they retain a bit of their past utilitarian use, which adds to the content. But even though I use these nontraditional materials, I see my work through a painter’s eye.
MH: Your materials are very tactile, textured, and ephemeral, which has the effect of bringing the viewer into the present moment. Is this a conscious decision?
CC: Yes, particularly since I started using the spring steel, because everything is friction fit. This entire piece is being held together by tension. So all of these wires that you see are straight, but I put the ends into glass tubes and bend the wire, and the shapes are formed through the interaction. I like that the tension is happening in the moment, and by being present, we share the space where it’s happening. It’s the same with the lens piece, the way the elements take the shape in space; it’s the pull of gravity that creates the tension in the strands, which is the only thing holding them together. By engaging the natural phenomena that’s surrounding us, I make the connection between the physical world and our internal world and the way we perceive it. This is why I use materials that are translucent and transparent, so when you look through the lenses, everything is like a kaleidoscopic transformation with all these mutating refractions.
MH: I understand that you don’t make preliminary sketches or maquettes, which speaks to a process of discovery and curiosity. Can you talk about your creative process?
CC: I don’t work much with tools, so basic hand work is essential to my process. I’ve sewn since I was a child, and this is a big part of how the work is put together. I don’t have any tables in my studio because I prefer to work on the floor, and this allows me to be physically active and involve my body in making the work. So when I start holding the materials and trying to understand their qualities, it’s very transportive. I start thinking about connections, like where physics and biological forms meet, or how the movement of the planets is connected to our solar system. And then there are the personal memories and associations that I respond to that are an important part of my process, but not as apparent. I’ve developed a way of shaping my forms that’s referential on one level, then there’s the utilitarian associations of my materials on another level, and then the way they act as objects in space with gravity or light which is a phenomenal level. So there are all these different ways of working, through which I can interact with all the elements simultaneously.
MH: It sounds like your process is highly intuitive.
CC: Yes. Whenever I was given an assignment in college that was very defined, my mind would turn off. I don’t function well like that. But if I can relate to something in an open-minded way, then I get transported and everything starts happening from there. I’m drawn to optical experiences or occurrences, which is why I work with translucent materials, because you can see the layers. It’s important to me that you can see the whole form as it rotates in space. I’ve used glass spheres and placed objects in water, which led to taking videos of the cast shadows as they move around. This kind of discovery is an essential part of my process.

MH: A painting or sculpture requires an investment of time to execute, and when it’s finished, it becomes a relic, in a sense. The creative act is over, so its presence is rooted in its past. Your work defies that in some way because it’s so much about the present moment. Does any of this ring true for you?
CC: I think it’s absolutely true, and that’s why I use tension, because it takes place in the moment.
MH: So when we’re in the presence of something under tension, like your installation, do you think we feel it? Or when we drive over a suspension bridge and there’s that massive amount of tension, do we experience it on some level?
CC: I think we feel it, even if we’re not conscious of it. And we can experience space as well if we’re attuned to it. As a painter, space was something I moved through to get from one activity to another, but when I started working in space, I became aware of what it felt like and what was transpiring. The way that I experienced the things around me radically changed, and I realized that I am immersed in space, which is a very different thing.
MH: Your work seems to be deliberately ambiguous. There’s a suggestion of something nautical going on, but it’s not as if you’re suspending sea urchins or starfish in the netting. What are your thoughts around keeping the work mysterious and/or impenetrable?
CC: My work is open-ended because I want people to have associations, but I don’t want to dictate anything. I want them to enter the work on their own terms and experience it in the way that they choose. For me, when something is named, I might stop relating to it because I already know what it is. I’m interested in creating these various optical occurrences in space that elicit numerous types of responses. This is more in keeping with what I think is interesting in life.
MH: How do you feel when a viewer gets it all wrong, like if someone tells you that you need to add some starfish? Are you good with whatever a person takes away from your work?
CC: I am. Honestly, nothing would surprise me. I’m so hypercritical of my own work that I’ve probably already thought about everything they could say. At one point it did bother me, but I want the work to be open-ended enough that people can come to it on their own terms. That’s important to me, and that’s all I can really ask for.
MH: Does art suffer when the artist explains her work? I think of the magician who reveals how she performs a trick. Is it better when we’re kept in the dark?
CC: I think it depends on the work and the relationship to the work and how interesting it is. My working process goes in a million directions, so it’s challenging for me to write about, but I think it can be good to try to understand where an artist is coming from.
MH: If you’re willing, I’d like to give you my unsolicited interpretation of your work: The forms, shadows, and refractions construct an indeterminate language that’s visually based, but your work may be more closely aligned with music or maybe poetry. There’s no attempt at linear thought; instead, the work is constructed as a series of moments strung together in a nonlinear model. Its primary aim is light refraction and self-reflection. What do you think?
CC: Not bad! That’s pretty good! But I would add that there is a referential shaping, where the objects have some grounding in nature and the built world. I structure my working process ahead of time, like I select materials with certain properties because I know what I want them to do and why I want them to do that thing. I don’t try to enact nature too literally in the work, but I hope they’ll appear in altered ways that are related to the initial sources. And that’s where a lot of the associations come from.
MH: There’s a feeling of generosity in your work that’s hard to define. I feel like if I spend time with it, something slowly reveals itself, like a gift. Do you ever feel this way about your work, that you’re offering something of great value?
CC: That’s a lovely thing to say. I hope so. As artists, we try to give what we can. I know I do, and that’s what I want to put out into the world, the things I find so mesmerizing and challenging and beautiful.
MH: Have you ever experienced that in a work of art? The feeling that you’ve received a gift of some sort? Either a transcendence, or a sense of being pulled into the present moment? 
CC: Yes, I have. I saw this show at MoMA a few years ago by Shigeko Kubota. The show was called Liquid Reality, and she combined sculpture and video in a narrative in a way that was astounding. I felt such an affinity for her work. Another artist is Jackie Winsor, whose piece #1 Rope, 1976 winds forms from wire and raffia. Her work has a power that won’t let you go.
MH: A unique quality of your work is that it’s always moving and existing in the present moment. When I look at your suspended lenses, for example, I see them as these refracted moments in space, and it feels like you’re creating an experience.
CC: Yes, absolutely! I’m so glad you brought this up because that’s an important part of it, the experiential nature of the work. It’s the core of it, that part about being in the moment and using materials that are always expressing themselves. And that’s a big part as well, finding the elements that are particular to these materials, and then finding the interaction that creates the experience that I’m after.
MH: I keep coming back to presence. Not only that the work has a presence, but you have to be present and engaged to receive it. Is the work that affects us most deeply the one that brings us into the present moment?
CC: Maybe, because we’re attentive and we’re allocating all our effort to engage it, and we know the exchange will be short lived. There are paintings that do this for me; every time I go back to them, I’m completely in awe. One of them is Monet’s Water Lilies at MoMA. The layering of gesture, how they sink and emerge, just the beauty of them. I always feel like I see it in a new way.
MH: Have you ever considered another art form, perhaps one that is less material than visual art? I’m thinking of performance, poetry, maybe some form of music?
CC: Well, I’m currently learning the theremin to go with the videos that I make. My husband Tim Spelios is a drummer, and we often play music casually with our friends, an impromptu way to make sounds together. That’s been a part of my life for a long time. I also played in a noise band, The Chairs, (with Tim, David Weinstein, Laurie Szujewska, and John Sherman) when we first came to the city in 1980, and we performed at Roulette in Brooklyn.
MH: What’s the best part about being an artist?
CC: Being in the studio and making the work is without a doubt the best part about being an artist. It allows me to respond in an unstructured way and to be completely absorbed in the materials and natural phenomena. The work comes through directly and reveals itself to me in ways that I haven’t seen before, and that’s what I find to be most compelling.

www.carolinecox.com

IMAGE LIST
1. Glittering, 2019-2022, glass lenses, monofilament, 120 x 96 x 156 in.  
2. Criss Cross, 2024, glass lenses, monofilament, 99 x 80 x 168 in.  
3. Shimmering (wall), 2018, glass lenses, monofilament, 144 x 300 x 96 in.; Orbits (floor), glass balls, monofilament, 6 x 56 x 132 in.
4. Shimmering, detail (wall), and Orbits, Detail (floor), see above
5. Criss Cross, detail, 2024, glass lenses, monofilament, approx. 14 x 32 x 27 in. 
6. Shoaling, 2021, glass lenses, monofilament, 84 x 96 x 3 in.
7. Circuity, 2023, buttons, mirrors, spring steel wire, beads, monofilament, 12 x 10 x 12 in.
8. Strung, 2024, buttons, wire, beads, monofilament, 12 x 10 x 12 in.
9. Linear Buttons, 2024, buttons, wire, beads, mirrors, monofilament, 12 x 10 x 12 in.
10. Looping, 2020, ink, paper, 148 x 57 in.
11. Looping Two, 2020, ink, paper, 48 x 64 in.
12. Opposite Directions, 2020, ink, paper, gesso, 44 x 36 in.
13. Sepals and Petals, 2020, ink, paper, 36 x 44 in.
14. Circling, detail, 2022-2024, monofilament, glass tubes, spring steel wire, approx.11 x 8 x 11 in. 
15. Circling, detail, 2022-2024, monofilament, glass tubes, spring steel wire,70 x 83 x 30 in. 
16. Circling, detail, 2022-2024, monofilament, glass tubes, spring steel wire, packaging mesh, 33 x 17 x 22 in. 
17. Circling, detail, 2022-2024, monofilament, glass tubes, spring steel wire, packaging mesh, 27 x 24 x 9 in.
18. Circling, detail, 2022-2024, monofilament, glass tubes, spring steel wire, packaging mesh, 22 x 27 x 23 in. 
19. Circling, detail, 2022-2024, monofilament, glass tubes, spring steel wire, packaging mesh, approx.120 x 148 x 197 in. 
20. Circling, detail, 2022-2024, monofilament, glass tubes, spring steel wire, packaging mesh, approx. 92 x 100 x 135 in. 
21. Cox in her studio with Criss Cross, 2024
22. Cox in her studio with Circling, 2024