Nicole Havekost: A Material Artist in a Material World
Nicole Havekost, Tether. Industrial felt, cotton thread, sewing hardware, paper, galvanized steel, PVC pipe, concrete, wood; 123 x 180 x 60 inches; 2023. Courtesy of the artist.
“I am fascinated by bodies. They are simultaneously beautiful and grotesque.”
– From Havekost’s Artist Statement
Like the arc of human civilization, artist Nicole Havekost evolves by succumbing to her curiosity, only to make “unnecessary” problems for herself to solve. She’s at her home in Rochester, Minnesota, a place famous for the Mayo Clinic, when I chat with her across an invisible bridge of digital ones and zeros. Somewhat ironic, given that the tactile nature of materials deeply influences Havekost's artistic choices. And that her husband, she tells me, teaches digital art and photography. Thus, she's well aware of the bleeding edges of cyberspace and generative AI but has always preferred to work in the material world.
Well, almost always. Havekost's artistic journey began in childhood, fueled by a love of drawing and cartoons. "At five years old, I declared that I wanted to be a cartoonist," she tells me, "and that was because I loved to draw." Her father, recognizing this passion, purchased a book on cartooning, and she soon found herself in private and small group art lessons, honing her skills and exploring her creativity.
Growing up in Fort Collins, Colorado, Havekost was inspired to get her own pony after a neighbor and friend received one. "At that point," she recalls, "I had to decide whether my extracurricular focus would be art or horses. Outside of school, I dedicated myself to horses, while pursuing every art opportunity available within the school system."
Her path led her to the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), a decision sparked by her fascination with fabric and a desire to pursue apparel design. Despite having never sewn before, she was undeterred. "When I got into art school, I had been obsessed with fabric and thought I wanted to be in apparel design," she admits. RISD's comprehensive foundation year, encompassing 2D and 3D design, drawing, art history, and English, exposed her to a breadth of artistic disciplines and techniques. "My first semester at art school, my mind was completely blown because I knew I was a really good technician," she reflects.
Nicole Havekost. Left: Supine, 28 x 86 x 72 inches; Right: Pause, 131 x 54 x 169 inches. Industrial felt, cotton thread, sewing hardware, paper, galvanized steel, PVC pipe, concrete, wood; 2023. Courtesy of the artist.
This experience solidified her passion for art, but it also led her to question her chosen path in apparel design. "And then once I ended up in the program, I realized, No, I'm a basket case because this is not my deal," she humorously recalls about her experience in the apparel design program.
In a quest for greater artistic exploration, Havekost transferred to another art school as a non-major. "And I went to another art school [in New Mexico] as a non-major because there wasn't a way to do that where I was at," she explains. "And I just tried everything." This period of experimentation ultimately led her to printmaking, a discipline that offered diverse creative possibilities. However, her artistic evolution didn't stop there. "At some point during my senior year I just started making these little paper sculptures that were stitched together," she reveals, marking a pivotal shift towards the sculptural forms that would become central to her artistic practice.
"I love work that's tedious and repetitive. And that feels really comforting." This love for hands-on work is deeply connected to her aversion to digital art, despite her husband's expertise in the field. "My husband is a photographer, and he teaches digital art and photography. About 20 years ago he was teaching a class called Digital Art I. I was like, I'm going to take this. I'm going to learn the tools. I just ended up with my nose right here [almost touching the computer screen] as I was doing the work. It's because I couldn't get close enough to it, and I couldn't touch it. In other words, it wasn't tactile. Once I realized that about myself, it's really about the material for me. And the computer doesn't do that. I don't have the patience for that. [But] I am really in awe of the people that can control this media to get images, or to say things.” Havekost contemplates whether investing time in mastering digital art is the best use of her creative energy, considering her passion for and proficiency in working with tangible materials. She wonders if it's more fulfilling to continue refining her existing skills and exploring the possibilities within her chosen mediums.
Nicole Havekost, Detail of Sustain (2023). Courtesy of the artist.
Physicality and Partnership with the Body
Havekost's artistic process is deeply physical, extending beyond her hands to her entire body. "Using not only my hand, but also my whole body to figure out how to put these things up was really interesting," she says, highlighting the importance of physical engagement in her work. This physicality also reflects a deeper connection to her own body, particularly in relation to motherhood." I really had to be in partnership with my body," she reflects on how motherhood led her to this realization.
But like many others, Havekost’s connection with her body hasn’t always been linear. "I've always had a contentious relationship with my body," she confides. This complex relationship is reflected in her art, particularly in her early sculptures that incorporated cooking and sewing utensils. "When I started making those dolls with the cooking and sewing utensils, I had just become a new mother," she explains. These sculptures served as a way to grapple with the physical and emotional changes associated with motherhood, exploring themes of identity, domesticity, and the challenges of balancing personal and maternal roles. "I wanted to reference the body as being, in some ways, kind of wild—like we're trying to domesticate these things that we live in," Havekost explains. Her sculptures became a means of expressing the physical sensations and emotional complexities of this experience, often referencing domestic tools and imagery.
Nicole Havekost, Spill. Rag paper, compressed charcoal, graphite, graphite putty, poked holes; 18 x13.5 inches, 2023. Courtesy of the artist.
“It’s like trying to reconcile what it is to have a body, [and moreover one] that gives birth, so that it’s not yours anymore, in that it’s for caring about somebody else,” she elaborates. “At some point, I had a bout of pelvic floor dysfunction, which caused some terrible digestive issues, so to have that one artwork with a pin cushion for a belly was one of the ways for me to work through what I was feeling in my body and give it a physical presence,” she reveals.
Taking in her fundamentally figurative yet increasingly abstract sculptures, one could argue that Havekost has, in a manner, achieved her childhood dream of becoming a cartoonist. Only it’s the nuts and bolts of everyday materiality; the mad struggle against and with gravity and its restless twin, time; and the perfectly flawed human body, not the illustrator’s pen, with which she tells the peculiar story of making something from something else.
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