You may be familiar with the beautiful writing of Maralise Petersen, who worked as Segullah’s intrepid blog editor for several years, but you might not know that she’s also an artist. Maralise, who now works as the Art Editor for the journal, had to have her arm twisted by the entire staff to allow us to feature her artwork in our anniversary issue. When you page through the journal or browse through this post, you’ll see why we’re glad we finally persuaded her.
Mara’s work has been featured in has been featured at the Amerikahaus in Vienna, Austria; the “Women of Faith” exhibit in Washington D.C.; and in the literary journal Irreantum. She lives with her husband and two sons in Tennessee. You can see more of her work at Reluctant Nomad.
1) How did you begin your work as an artist? It was a complete accident. I had worked in portraiture since 2005 and while avoiding work for a client, I began layering pictures on top of one another, changing the blending methods, and figuring out what came out of the mix. I was so intrigued with those manipulations that I kept exploring, usually in fits and starts. My work, unlike most artists, and probably to its detriment, is most often not premeditated. Although I would argue that the pieces I create have imbued meaning of some kind, that they answer a question or a series of questions that I pose while creating them, the answers are often delightfully unexpected. 
2) You call the American West home and say that “you can’t think of anywhere else [you'd] rather be.” However, you’ve spent most of the last decade living in the American South or in Europe. How has being away from your “home” influenced your art? The search to find a replacement for being settled is the between-the-lines motivation in every piece of art that I create. That being said, I would love to use my home in the American West as a symbol in my work, but I’m not there. And photography is a victim of location. Plus I’ve been working as an outsider for so long, I don’t know if I would know how to represent my own culture even if I tried. I have a deep respect for artists who critique and represent their culture from the inside. It’s the harder path. In “Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man”, the main character mentions that you wouldn’t write your name in pencil across the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle when faced with a blank page before you. And he’s right–never settling in any one place, in any one identity, I’m always on the hypotenuse, shakily writing my name wherever I happen to land. Like I said, it’s the less-logical and sometimes easier path, but it’s my path and I wouldn’t know how to represent any other.
3) What role does being an artist play in your life right now? Outside of this interview and shyly sharing the latest version of Segullah with family and friends, being an artist plays no role. Having just moved from overseas back to the States, my role as matriarch has superseded almost everything else. Art-making is a process that is often, at least in my life, interrupted by more important pursuits like packing and unpacking. Also, my camera scares me right now. When I feel fragile which I often do in the process of moving, I don’t want to create anything that might reveal more than I’m able to share and still feel safe doing so.
4) Describe how you go through the process of making a photographic collage? I work in Photoshop and the process itself is very simple. I take a photograph or part of one that I have shot. I then layer another photograph on top. Usually one of the layers is graphic in nature, a pattern covering the entire frame. I’m endlessly taking pictures of sewer drains, graphic display windows, and in Europe, advertising billboards. Another layer is usually organic. In the body of work featured in Segullah, the organic layer I use most often is one of giant mushrooms. For other pieces, I’ve looked to cemeteries for inspiration for the organic layer. I love cemeteries. In the last two places where I’ve lived, my daily routine to the store and to my children’s bus stop would take me past a cemetery simply by happenstance. I would often sideline myself to sit and admire what I found there. The last layer often involves the human figure. The human figure is a powerful testimony that there is a God and I try to include it in as many of my pieces as I can.
5) As an LDS artist, what are your views on LDS art in general, and in your place within the body of LDS artists. I respect, love, and have worked with many contemporary LDS artists and I have a few favorites. What I struggle with are consumers who view art as a morality play–an (often) oversimplified version of right or wrong, black and white. I just can’t view art as being right or wrong. For me, it’s a means of communication. And communication, outside of abusive forms, is inherently open and nuanced, complex and two-sided. While morality may play an important role in what a member of the church hangs over a mantle, religious art is not the only art worthy to adorn an LDS home. Additionally, artists who create pieces that don’t fit well on a Mormon mantle are still worthy of attention and their work is a valuable contribution to the larger genre of LDS art. I have a wonderful print of a (mostly) nude woman hanging in my house. The human figure is, as I’ve mentioned, just as powerful a testimony of God to me as a Temple or a prophet. These opinions may make my work or attitudes unconventional in a Mormon context. I’m ok with that.
6) How has your faith shaped your art (or vice versa)? My art is usually an escape. It has served as a release valve from “mommy-ism,” “wife-ism,” and sometimes even “Mormonism.” But that said, that escape has been essential to my enjoyment of being a mother and a wife and a Mormon. And the enjoyment of those pursuits is absolutely a blessing from my Father in Heaven.
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