Unsinkable Stories

UnsinkableStories1 UnsinkableStories2 Beastiary_BW MrCat Jellyfish


MSUM faculty creates ‘Unsinkable Stories’

The work of Lauren Rose Kinney, Kelli Sinner, and Patrick Vincent

By Sabrina Hornung

“Unsinkable Stories” is an exhibition featuring the work of three Minnesota State University Moorhead faculty members: gallery director and printmaker Lauren Rose Kinney, ceramics professor Kelli Sinner and printmaking instructor Patrick Vincent. The three young professional artists were invited to exhibit by Nemeth Art Center director Meredith Lynn.

“The title and concept of the show was inspired by similar themes Lauren, Patrick and I all share in our artwork,” Sinner said. “Our pieces physically use paper in interesting ways and conceptually have an ethereal and floating quality to the work. We all also incorporate narrative elements in the pieces and that is what inspired the title ‘Unsinkable Stories.’”

Sinner will exhibit six new ceramic and handmade paper wall pieces as well as a selection of handmade books. Her work has a very whimsical organic feminine quality to it due to the flowing lines of her sculptural work as well as her use of a pastel color palette.

Sinner’s new pieces are a combination of two separate projects that she has been developing for a while.

“I am excited by the similarities and contrasts of the two materials,” she said. “Both mediums have a long history and rely on pressure, timing and water to make a successful piece. But while clay is strong and heavy, paper is light and delicate, and they complement each other in an interesting way.”

Kinney is a printmaker who works in woodcut, intaglio and book arts. For this exhibition she will show two large woodcuts, four drawings, two story books, two books of poems and a group of six woodcuts as part of a collaboration between her and her husband Patrick Vincent.

“The structure of the book allows for concrete parameters where my collaborator(s) and I can play with and explore new worlds,” Kinney said. “I like working with writers that have an abstract/surreal quality.”

Kinney is also a collector of unusual items, which greatly contributes to the surreal element of her work, as her secrets pull themselves from her subconscious and embed themselves in her wood blocks.

Kinney added: “I wanted to make life-sized work to make to sort of enfold the viewer in my imaginary worlds – to create walk-in bookplate style work. I am greatly inspired by books and love the way a good story can draw you completely into it, I wanted my work to function in the same way – like a book that you want to read over and over, and each time you do, you find new things within it.”

Vincent was drawn to printmaking because it has a history in narration and illustration.

“I also have a lot of respect for printmaking artists because they are often working with current, politically-charged themes and are eager to engage broad, public audiences through their art,” he said.

For this exhibition, Vincent’s screenprints use animal metaphors to depict the effects of the oil boom on our part of the country.

“For instance, in one piece I parallel those endless trains of oil with a snake body,” he said.

“In a way I’m telling politically-charged stories, but in other ways I’m creating ghost stories based on living in a wind-swept place where industry has a sort of tangential link to the macabre.”

Unsinkable Stories feat. Lauren Rose Kinney, Kelli Sinner and Patrick Vincent
May 1 – 24
Nemeth Art Center, 301 Court Avenue, Park Rapids, Minn.

Eliza Rotterman’s “to gallop finally into the Milky Way”

heading west: Kansas is the state of confessions, one of the eight poems included in “to gallop finally into the Milky Way” by Eliza Rotterman

heading west: Kansas is the state of confessions

How old were you when the belief that every individual is
special exposed its genitals then ran off into the woods
behind the school? As a child did you worry astronauts
would be lost in space? How often do you phone your
mother? Standing in the checkout line, do you silently
criticize the fat rounding out that poor girl’s waist? The one
holding the box of little chocolate donuts, a carton of milk
and a bag of Fritos? When you read, be here now, do you think
yes and feel the lightness of your being? When was the last
time you made love with your eyes open? The first time you
took advantage of someone else’s willingness? When you
look at photographs of refugees do you think suffering is
ironic? How many people do you think are having sex right
now in Kansas? If you could bring a loved-one back from
the dead, would you? When you’re walking in the city, how
often do you check yourself out? If you multiply that by the
total number of foreclosures in 2009, is that number more or
less than the hours spent defining acts of genocide in 1994? Is
art a matter of just making things up?
Give me your hand. We’re crossing the state line.

Dream Yard Drone & Love Story by Alison Jean Kinney (excerpt)


I wish I could invite you out here. Although, come to think of it, I’m not sure you’d really like it. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I can’t invite you. I don’t have any invitations left. You only get so many see, and I sent the last one about a year ago. You’d think I’d be lonely by now. Well, I don’t know, maybe I am. It’s hard to say, you know sadness is just sadness. I’m either sad or I’m not. You know better than anyone that loneliness is just sadness adorned in specificity  and definition. It’s a bit pretentious if you ask me. My point is, I feel all right, I’m not so sad, not most of the time, so don’t spend so much time worrying about me. And for god’s sake, please stop telling people I’m dead. Dead is such a silly word anyway. Dead, what the hell is that supposed to mean?


From the looks of your last letter, it seems that you haven’t understood much of anything I’ve told you. I’ve given it some thought, and I’ve come up with some advice for you. Here it is: if by chance you encounter a piece of imagery while reading my letters, I encourage you to examine it through a kaleidoscope, magnifying glass, telescope, or perhaps the lens of your grandmother’s cataract. Any of these helpful tools will bring you closer to the truth of my words than you could ever achieve with your naked mind’s eye.

I hope this helps.

. . .
Read the full story here!

“drawing of a muchness” an MFA thesis exhibition in printmaking

Lauren Rose Kinney’s “Drawing of a Muchness” Realizes a Dreamworld

By Becky Bartkowski Tue., Apr. 24 2012 at 1:00 PM
Categories: Events, Visual Art

Lauren Rose Kinney lives in a fantasy land. Through wood carving, etchings, and books, the artist builds detail-dense images that would look natural inside a heavy leather-bound collection of Grimms’ Fairy Tales.

The ASU MFA student’s thesis exhibition, “Drawing of a Muchness,” is on display through Friday, April 27, at Harry Wood Gallery and includes depictions of Rube Goldberg contraptions, intricate imagery reminiscent of Max Ernst and Marc Chagall, and an immersive sense of whimsy.

“I collect junk, I keep a dream journal, I write and draw things I see in my daily life, and I read a lot of fiction,” Kinney says of her creative process. “I take all of these and tweak them with my imagination [finding] points where they relate or merge together to build a new narrative.”

The storytelling thread runs through her exhibition. She describes her woodcuts in the show as stories rich with repeated symbols and hidden images that force the eye around the picture and lead the viewer through the tale. “Looking at them is like walking into a life-size picture book,” Kinney says.

Also on view are her more minimal and spontaneous etchings of machinery and tiny, improvised worlds, which Kinney says she’ll whip up on the fly — whenever inspiration strikes her — and books that she’s created in collaboration with writers that are “full
of imagery inspired by, rather than describing, the writing.”

Kinney’s free exhibition will be on view and open to the public at Harry Wood Gallery daily through Friday, April 27. An opening reception will take place Tuesday, April 24, from 6 to 8 p.m. Gallery hours are 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday through Thursday, and 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. on Friday.