Artist Highlight - Drew Kibler

1. Armamentarium brings the language of the clinic into the home. When did you begin thinking of domestic space as something shaped by illness?

Following my (HIV+) diagnosis, I started to develop a unique relationship with the clinic. The familiarity of the medical environment began to mimic a skewed version of domestic space, just stripped of character. I have grown fond of sterility and began to move through this grieving by inviting illness to hold influence in the home. When I began to develop this relationship between space and health, I found that my work became points of intersection between my body and the virus in a way that reflects the connection we develop with the objects we adorn our home with.

2. Your surfaces often feel skin like, but they are also constructed, embroidered or printed. How do you think about the tension between softness, armour and vulnerability?

I feel as though skin is a vessel for all of these things. Repeatedly in my work, I've used skin as a way to give a body to the virus, so users can confront the virus visually and with tactile use. The idea of leaving impressions with embroidery on these materials is interesting to me, especially with softer leathers. By translating cellular images of the virus into embroidered leather, I am bringing a tactile softness to a vulnerable experience.

3. Cadaver refers to morgue gurneys and medical cabinetry, yet it functions as a catchall. What interested you in turning such charged references into an object of use?

My interest in taking references for object use from medical instruments calls back to this idea of a skewed environment. It's become a way for me to take back control from a diagnosis that took so much from me. When I can find this glimpse of a transaction with cold, sterile-led design, it sort of clicks for me. I love the push and pull of introducing harsher objects to familiar objects.

4. The narrow sling of Cadaver makes the user choose what can rest there. Is that limitation a way of making the everyday act of placing things down more conscious?

Absolutely, I think that there should always be a conscious relationship between user and object, and I prefer to design objects that don't completely lend themselves to our use. I believe that to fully appreciate something is to understand its limits. By narrowing the scope of what the object can hold, the user is confronted with a choice of value.

5. Basal places flowers in relation to the body, plastination and memorial. How do you understand the role of flowers within a collection about HIV and AIDS?

My intrigue with flowers for my collection started with Derek Jarman’s Blue, where the closing remark is “I place a delphinium, Blue, upon your grave.” This sentiment of flowers as memory, resilience, and honor is something I knew would breathe life into this history. I wanted to design a vessel for flowers as a gesture of remembrance for the victims of the virus, while keeping traces of my own experience in the design language and materiality.

6. Piko holds a single flower in a way that feels both decorative and clinical. Were you interested in making the flower appear as a specimen?

I was definitely interested in diving deeper into the role of a flower in the context of my recent work. Piko allows for that dissection when I choose to display a flower singularly, as a specimen. I’m mostly drawn to displaying a single flower because it feels like an offering, a quieter moment within the larger catalogue of my work.

7. Your work is rooted in personal experience, but it also speaks to wider histories of the AIDS crisis. How do you hold intimacy and collective memory together?

In terms of collective histories, I am constantly looking at the work made in my community by artists before me. I received my HIV diagnosis when I was first understanding how to traverse being an adult, and these collective stories and memories were what guided me to the acceptance I feel today. I have so much admiration for all of the work made through this epidemic; it has changed my life. My work, and this collection specifically, allowed me to understand that my lived experience now has a voice in this history.

8. The objects are functional, but they do not simply disappear into function. How important is it that the user remains aware of what they are touching?

The awareness of the conceptual nature of my objects is of high importance to me. I want my objects to have their own voice, boundaries, and limitations to challenge how we live with them, but also, it’s important that the story behind the objects isn’t lost. My work is meant to reference objects in everyday life in function, but it is important to allow the objects to influence our behaviors when we choose to engage with them.

9. What do you hope viewers understand about the body’s presence within domestic space?

I would hope that viewers understand more of the relationship between the object and the user. Human experience is shaped by cycles of dependence and vulnerability, and thus, the objects I aim to design carry on this sentiment. Our body and domestic space should be encouraged to

have a conscious relationship, where we can learn to be more mindful of how we interact with objects and how they can be invited to influence our routines.