Hadia Finley

The place in me that was formed long ago by impressions made in a world that was punctuated by the screams and bizarre incantations of a schizophrenic brother is the place where my art is born. At any moment a peaceful family dinner could be interrupted by an unexplained fit in which the dining table could be overturned and the meal sent flying in all directions.
I could escape from this to my own room where I made things. I could turn discarded materials, like the cardboard sheets that came inside my father’s shirts when they were returned from the cleaners, telephone wire, pipe cleaners and fabric scraps, and broken and discarded things, into magical objects. The process of making took me away from what frightened me and that I could not understand. The objects brought me praise and pleasure. The objects most often represented humans as dolls and figures with houses and castles in which they would live. They would ride around the gray linoleum floor in cars and other contraptions.
I have followed up this fascination with representing the human form with years of life drawing, figure modeling, and painting from the model. Working in the presence of the model is always inspiring. I especially enjoy responding to the forms of the human figure in quick gestural drawings and loosely modeled clay pieces.
Eventually I knew that this in itself could not be the entire focus of my art production. The study of the figure, though never tedious, rarely resulted in an art piece that embodied the feelings that the model’s presence evoked in me. Nor did they relate anything significant about human experience. I had become more concerned with anatomical correctness than with self expression and the magic that had been embodied in my childhood art.
Even in those childhood years the making of art had its serious side. My father, a self educated and successful commercial artist, though not extremely communicative, did share with me his own fascination with the art world. The shelves in our dining room were filled with the most beautiful art books. I had taken a particular interest in the book published by MOMA on fifty years of the art of Picasso. I went heavily into Cubism, collaging fabric and newspaper into my crayon drawings, and proudly titling one of these works, “A Picasso.” I was rewarded for all this with a trip to the Museum of Modern Art to see the Picasso Retrospective. Standing before both versions of the Three Musicians in all their colorful brilliance I was completely lost and entirely amazed. That day in the Museum in my patent leather Mary Jane’s and new dress, proud to be my father’s daughter, was the grandest moment of my short life.
This current work is an outgrowth of both carving techniques and the explorations of a variety of materials and processes. As a student of the assemblage artist, George Herms, I developed a sensitivity to found objects. I began incorporating old, broken and discarded objects into pieces. I consider the tree limbs, many decayed or partially burnt, ready for a chipper or fuel for a fire, found objects. They emphasize the usefulness and beauty of things and people which are seen as discardable by many. Unlike George I alter what I find in order to produce integrated, organic pieces that might be seen as representations, beings, or systems in themselves.
I look at the casual way in which Herms assembles his pieces, often loosely bound together with steel tie wire if attached at all, as an invitation to abandon any striving for craftsmanly technique that I might have harbored. Clean, precise work. though not beyond my ability, does not fit with my aesthetic notions, or my style of living and approach to life and art. The Arte Povera movement of the sixties and seventies, with its use of simple materials, often natural, and casual construction styles, is a precedent for me. I do not want the construction techniques to distract and dazzle viewers, or to interfere with my ability to put things together in surprising and uncompromising ways.
The joints, the oozing glue, the wood fillers and excess solder and weld material are there to give life to the objects I make. They are to call attention to the haphazard and unpredictable nature of life, the necessity to continually be reconstructing ourselves in order to survive modern life. I have seen so many people, including my own brother, once thought of as worthless, who are now living and contributing to society.
Folk Art, so called Primitive and Indigenous art, can appear to be influencing my work. I have looked at much of this, in Museum collections, books and by the side of a road. The carved wood perhaps is what gives the greatest association. But, I include other, more contemporary materials such as resins, modern glues and fillers, and employ a sophistication of modeling, and a complexity which is not generally found in this art.
I continue to use the figure as a main element in my work. The figure in itself is powerful. It brings with it many associations and a long history of representation by artists. In addition to fascinating me visually I see it as a vehicle for my own expression. I have had many issues with my own body, having lived in it, hated it, given birth, danced in it.... it is what I know best in this world.
My work begins as intuitive visualizations, and through the processes of manipulating materials becomes articulated into meaning. My desire is to create art which challenges the viewer’s notions of beauty, provokes unsettling emotion and contributes to changing cultural attitudes.