Reckoning Work

With "Rich Soil," artist Kristine Mays breathes life into the unseen laborers of the land at Lewis Ginter.

The idealized history of the United States is one that still informs the country’s ethos—perhaps more of a gimmick—today: A country founded on the principles of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness; the land of freedom and the American dream, where all have the opportunity to transcend obstacles and succeed.

The reality of our history, however, cannot be understood without the acknowledgement of the innumerable people who built—and continue to build—this country on their backs, those who remain unnamed. In her sculpture series, “Rich Soil,” artist Kristine Mays gives life to the bodies, lives and labor of those unseen.

Currently on display through March 9 at the Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden, “Rich Soil” is composed of 29 life-size sculptures presented in seven groupings peppered throughout the garden. Made from thousands of pieces of wire, each statue takes the shape of a human form. Their striking, bold poses were inspired by famed modern dancer, choreographer and activist Alvin Ailey and his best known work, “Revelations” (1960). The statues’ translucent bodies emerge from the air like spirits, depicting joy, grief and hope through frames that appear soft and pliable, despite being made of hard metal.

A self-taught artist, Mays created “Rich Soil” to honor her ancestors, including enslaved African Americans who lived on and tended to the land. The series first debuted in the Filoli Historic House and Garden in San Mateo County, California, and has since traveled to Washington, D.C. and beyond. Mays says that the environment brings new meaning to the work in each location.

Artist Kristine Mays exhibited her work “Rich Soil” in California and Washington, DC before Richmond.

“[In Washington, D.C.] we talked about all of the people who built The White House and the properties around the city,” Mays said recently after a media preview of the exhibition, during which she spoke alongside Saajida Chohan, director of Education and Visitor Experience at ​​the Black History Museum and Cultural Center of Virginia. “That particular property did extensive research and was able to speak to the enslaved individuals who [worked on nearby buildings].”

In New Orleans, Mays learned that sugar kettles, which were located throughout the garden space, were used by enslaved laborers to churn syrup in order to create sugar. In Georgia, she discovered that the works were installed on land where the enslaved created bricks.

“​​It’s heartbreaking, but it feels very sacred to me that with each city there’s some sort of symbol that comes about,” Mays explains. “I feel humbled to be the messenger. At times it can be intimidating, but in general it’s very exciting and it’s very sacred to see what’s revealed as the work travels.”

While the exhibition is grounded in the African American experience, “Rich Soil” also serves to represent all who have come to this country only to have their identities and the unique stories of their lives erased. Initially, Mays was inspired to make the work when she toured the Filoli gardens and noticed the teams of workers tending to the space, quietly perfecting the space for visitors. At that same time, the Bay Area was reverberating with conversation around immigration as Donald Trump, then set to be sworn in for his first presidency, promised mass deportations.

“[There was] all this grandeur, but I couldn’t really look at it because I was distracted looking at the gardeners and these people hauling these big sacks of weeds on their backs,” Mays says. “They were primarily immigrant workers. I didn’t know their names; a lot of the time, they weren’t even called by name—they were just referred to as ‘crew number two.’ My mind went from, ‘These are unnamed laborers,’ to ‘My ancestors toiled the land, were often not recorded as human, and many times didn’t even have their names listed on the ledger.’”

 

The broader path to Rich Soil began 28 years ago, when Mays first started sculpting. She initially encountered wire as a medium when making candle holders—a project that ultimately turned out “pathetic.” However, she found she enjoyed the feel of the wire, and after dropping a file of magazine clippings depicting people in motion onto her bedroom floor, Mays became curious about how she could use the material to capture motion.

“[There were] dancers, or there’d be someone running, or a fashion magazine with the wind blowing against a person, and I thought, ‘wouldn’t it be nice to capture that sort of moment?,’” Mays says. “So I started playing with the wire…that was the process, ‘how can I freeze-frame this moment in time?’ From there it’s just continued on and on…pushing the envelope a little further as far as how to come up with ways to take something so hard and stiff and make it look soft.”

Looking into the future, Mays is working on her first public park project in San Francisco, in which a fabricator will replicate her work in steel. She is also in the process of engaging in a project with an African American historical house in Rhode Island, where she will create works for their outdoor area. But for now, she hopes visitors who view “Rich Soil” at Lewis Ginter will have an experience that stays with them.

“This is a reckoning work, so there will be a moment where it may be uncomfortable,” Mays says. “But please don’t shy away from it. One thing I always say is that the work is based on the American story… It’s a matter of really taking it in and examining where we all play a part in it, even today …The other hope that I have—in my dream of all dreams—is that you would allow yourself to really ponder what you’re taking in beyond being here on these grounds. If it brings about something like that, then I’m excited.”

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