Libby Rowe

It was recently brought to my attention that 15% of people do not have an inner dialogue. This fact blew my mind into an internal dialog firestorm that was absolutely deafening for the following week. What do these people have going on in their heads… how do they think of what they need to accomplish… prepare for phone conversations with strangers or businesses… rehash arguments to find the perfect response if only 14 years too late? This week-long process of researching the phenomenon brought me to a startling realization that my head was incredibly noisy all the time. Rarely am I ever able to focus on one task without the noise of other pressing business or time-wasting activity infecting my mind space.

It also brought me to study the differences between male and female brain chemistry and function. I have marveled at the ability of men in my life to compartmentalize their thoughts and their roles. When they are at work, they work, when they are at home, they relax, when the lawn needs mown, they mow, when the tv is on, forget having a conversation. When it is time to leave the house, they walk out the front door, paying no mind to the lights that have been left on, the dog that needs feeding prior to our return, the child who just decided to go to the bathroom though they were given warning 15 minutes prior to leaving by me. They leave behind the kid’s snack bag for the car trip, the longest charger cable for the iPad that will be used in the back seat…I could go on.

The ability to compartmentalize has long been intriguing me. Once I realized that the people who are more inclined to compartmentalize, in addition to those who have no internal dialog, are not constantly bombarded with this mental chaos I must admit, I thought about enacting change. This installation visually represents the different sources of the noise that often renders me unable to begin any one task. Drawing from representations of objects that hang or dangle, everyday items that are suspended: car sale tringle banner lines, clothes drying on a line, swings on a swing set, strings of lights, chandeliers, birds on a telephone line, etc., each of these objects represent different aspects of life. The objects are overlaid with imagery and text from visual references to the myriad attention demanding thoughts, ideas, and bits of information that fuel the chaos that exists within my, and many contemporary women’s, minds.

Because of the irregular shapes of the silhouettes, the images representing thoughts and obligations are incomplete referencing how fleetingly this information is experienced. Ultimately viewers should feel overwhelmed by the multifaceted and intricate tangle of visual cacophony contained within the space. My intent with this experiential piece is to give a physical embodiment that conveys the chaos I experience daily.

My plan for the solo exhibition opportunity would be to develop and add a multi-channel sound component to the installation.

Residue of the Mind stems from my need to simplify the noise in my head. The multiplicity of my varied rolls of artist, partner, mother, educator, etc. demands different attentions and energies, splitting me into facets of being, none functioning quite as well as they should. Shadows of objects that hang or dangle gesture to the roles and their demands; criss-crossing paths, diverting thought patterns, and visualizing the complexities of my current mental space.

All Images ©2021

My artistic interests reside in defining and redefining women’s issues in ways that are both informational and confrontational, and yet accessible to a diverse audience. In pink, I bring together anatomy lessons with intentionally charged imagery and text to produce a new forum of discussion on what it is to be a woman- physically, socially, and psychologically. I am intrigued by taboo subjects and the general avoidance of their mention. Individual pieces in this series are inspired by stories from women and men relating common misconceptions of the physical mechanics of their body parts, as well as my own experiences in learning how my body and my mind truly work. Other pieces encourage reflection on and reconstruction of accepted social definitions of “feminine”, “womanhood”, and “equality,” and a questioning of who is, and who should be, in control of these definitions. 

The most recent work included in pink stems from my experience of regularly being addressed as “Sir” since moving to the South. I have always been a tall woman with short hair, a relatively low voice, and a confident presence. This constant questioning of my femininity leads me to explore the standards of femaleness and the gendered indoctrination systems in place during my childhood. My mother was a product of the fifties. Her mother trained her well. I see the ideals of the fifties feminine identity as an alter ego of sorts to my own feminist existence. Something went awry during my training. Where did she go wrong? 

I am interested in engaging my viewer physically as well as visually with interactive installations and public performances. Through the performance of a physical act of repeated ritual, as in practicing perfect posture or styling the perfect hairstyle, the viewer engages more deeply in the work as well as the ideas behind the work. Each piece changes as the number of participants grows, with the addition of comments, reactions, impressions, or artifacts. Their interaction completes each piece. 

It all started so innocently. I was recently divorced and thought I could start dating again, just a little. During the next 2 years, off and on, I engaged in online dating through the popular apps, OKCupid, Tinder, and Bumble. For the most part, I was awed by photos of men with their “catch of the day” or most recently killed conquest, I mean, this is online dating in Texas. I dutifully swiped left or right, and was engaged in conversation by potential dates. Occasionally, or, somewhat often actually, I was wooed by less conventional means. A few opening volleys were often all that was needed on their part to suggest they should go for their “Big Sell.” When my prospective matches sent me their dick pics, they probably didn’t think their throbbing members would be transformed into a feminist art exhibition, yet here we are. Microaggressions includes 69 pencil or ink, drawings and collages made from the unsolicited dick pics I received to compile a portrait of contemporary masculinity during the pursuit for love, or at least, their idea of love.

Accompanying the drawings is a video that juxtaposes intrusive anatomical queries with video of the female body, highlighting the Frankenstein-esque pursuit men undertake in search of the purported “woman of their dreams” — an aggressive quest to conquer the perfect body.

Looking For the Woman of My Dreams juxtaposes intrusive anatomical queries with video of the female body, highlighting the Frankenstein-esque pursuit men undertake in search of the purported “woman of their dreams” — an aggressive quest to conquer the perfect body.

Like Panes of Glass explores the memorial construct of the modern family as an ideal and a reality.  Having grown up in the Midwest during the 1970s and 1980s in a family of five, I experienced “The American Dream” in all its idyllic glory. Loving, kind, supportive parents, a sister and a brother, a dog and multitudes of hamsters, really, who could ask for more?  Over the years I have watched my perfect family and the perfect families of my friends crack and fade into the dysfunctional state of the contemporary American family. How did this happen to us?

The images, though drawn from my family albums, represent the idealized mode of the perfect family. Framed by the platonic shapes of domestic items, the images are trimmed and curated to conceal or delete imperfections, manufacturing an ideal family unit. Parts of the memories informed by the photographs are conveniently shaved away.

The stencils are all drawn from objects that are purchasable; the products both denote the wholesomeness of family life and connote social and financial status. 

Not only do you have a grill, but you have the perfect grill.  The implication that having the right collection of products will align you with the best of your neighbors also acts to construct your identity, albeit the empty, previously-digested identity of the consumer. The stencils objectify the false sense of domestic normalcy: neither the memory nor the present can possibly conform to an ideal without fracturing.  

Copathetic is a collaboration exploring a child’s incessant need to be nurtured countered by a woman’s efforts to uphold the societal constructs of motherhood. The struggle between these two domestic identities leads to a reticence toward the demand to nurture, resulting in critical shifts of perspective. These defining moments resonate through the formative years into adulthood.

The work spans various points in the respective lives of child and parent, pivoting from breastfeeding to beautifying, from encouragement to exhaustion, and from protection to punishment. Scenes unfold through a lens of satirical parody, utilizing the inconsistent ages of the actors, the bending of gender norms, and visually oblique angles to represent the adult tendency to skew recollection when reliving the experiences of childhood. In recreating these moments, Copathetic sardonically evokes the claiming, re-working, and transformation of remembered experience, where rose-colored glasses come off and the wear-and-tear of parenting becomes evident in both mother and child. The work explores the contemporary notion that a parent’s successes can or should be judged by a child’s state of happiness; where if the child isn’t always content with their life the parent has somehow failed.

Mixing idealized fantasy with sticky reality to create part funny, part weird, part warped, and part touching tableaus, the images make use of shifts in meaning associated with scale, age, time, objects, and gender to present an alternate reading of the parent/child relationship.

Installation
Tea bags printed with the portraits of women with whom I had tea, long-distance, via text messages printed on tea tags.
©2015

Handwritten note cards, lipstick
©2015

Thank You, Fuck You is made from actual thank you notes written in traditional format, but directed toward someone that hindered success or happiness. Ranging from notes to past bosses, lovers, spouses, and friends, this collection was solicited through a facebook call and during a performance at Fountain Art Fair 2014, New York, where submitted notes were read over the loud speaker as they were written followed by a well lipsticked kiss on the front of each note. All participants join me in saying Fuck You to the burden of their past relationships. This book is one of a kind, handwritten and kissed by the artist.

Inside/Out is made up of images of domestic structures digitally created from multiple image files. The elaborately constructed sets act as stages upon which short stories unfold. These facades are fallacies that are carefully constructed, but would not hold up to the rules of physics or reality. Some carefully manicured and maintained, others neglected and forlorn, these facades represent the emotional status of the people within. At first glance viewers are willing to accept the structure of each house. The architecture seems plausible. Further inspection reveals the structural flaws as well as scenes from daily life played out through the windows and doors. Each character is completely consumed by their own immediate experience, seemingly unaware of the others in their home. Open-ended narratives invite the viewer to join in completing each story, determining the narrative that will unfold. 

Each piece is mounted on Sintra board and cut to the irregular edges of the structures. The images are hung on French cleats away from the wall.

I am interested in the subtle differences between pondering, reflection, meditation, rumination and when these seemingly harmless contemplations turn to a more decidedly negative, and often detrimental, dwelling. 
I am intrigued by the dual meaning of the word dwelling. How the “mental state” of dwelling is seen as definitively negative, but the “home” dwelling is at definition neutral but in reality holds the potential for both positive and negative associations. 
This series of photographs uses physical dwellings made from materials that, along with their environments, suggest a state of contemplation. 

Upon arrival in San Antonio, Texas, USA in 2009, I was baffled by the extent to which the city had been divided into named and structured subdivisions. Never before had I felt so isolated by the domestic landscape. The development of the subdivision has often been presented as a community-building construct. In contemporary suburbs, this idea of parceling up the land into manageable plots in the name of facilitating development has led to maze-like neighborhoods that emphasize privacy over camaraderie, separation over society, each tract isolated by never ending lengths of fencing. Where once you would think nothing of knocking on a neighbor's door for a cup of sugar or an egg, people now live without knowing their neighbors beyond an impartial hello, or a passing wave as they pull into their garage. Like factories, these neighborhoods encourage homogeny, each family striving to present themselves as the "Perfect Family". 

With this in mind (sub)Division explores the false structure of the modern neighborhood through familial and societal disconnection to question perceptions of safety within closed communities. 24 houses, made from found and borrowed imagery, scrutinize relationships within families. The houses, placed around a double ended cul-de-sac with no entry and no means of escape, create a forced community with inhabitants who are anonymous and autonomous, yet who seemingly trust in the prescribed principles of society.

Obscured Views started as a personal challenge during a trip class through the Southwestern United States. I challenged the students to make work that was "inspired by the sights and experiences" of this two-week tour. I realized that this challenge was not only for the students, it was for me as well. 

At first, I shot the same tired post card shots any "good photographer" would seek when surrounded by some of the most inspiring landscape in the world. Boring. 
I quickly realized that I was more interested in the way people look, see, experience. I noticed tourists, walking to the edge of the viewing platform at the Grand Canyon, only to put their point-and-shoot-Kodak-throw-away camera up to their eye, shoot a quick image, then turn around as they lowered the camera, heading off to the next "Kodak moment". 

My images document and celebrate that which is obscured through human interference or experience. 

From Obscured Views
Archival Pigment Print
Framed to 20" x 24" & 24" x 20"
002 - 2006

Having a unique name like Libby allows me the rare opportunity to really feel like I am one of one. While they do exist, I rarely run across any other people named Libby. The few times I have happened upon another Libby, I have felt as though we shouldn't be able to occupy the same space and time. The story of Libby is a series of photographs inspired by these rare meetings and the unsettling feelings they induce. With this series, I strive to leave the viewer ill at ease with no real answers to the question...what has Libby done?

At first glance, the story of Libby appears to be an eclectic grouping of images that seemingly have no connection. Upon further examination, the titles infuse the images with an emotionally charged content. The subject of the story, Libby, is nebulous...is she the artist, the viewer, or a fictional character? The point of view from which each image is taken reinforces the existence of a personal perspective. The presentation of each scene evokes a sense of subjective impression rather than presenting a specific memory or event. The images challenge the viewer to bridge the gaps in the story of Libby.

This series is available for purchase as a limited edition book through this website. Please contact the artist for further details and pricing information.

Most people have one trait they hold as their own dirty little secret. It may be an image of them that was formed long ago, that day they were teased unmercifully by the rest of the second grade. For some, that single moment instilled in them an insecurity that has shadowed them since and has formed the definition of who they are. The banner line for this circus sideshow highlights the specifics of these afflictions. Each banner displays a person in what they perceive as their most vulnerable state. 
The commonality that links all of these “freaks” is the realization that the internally enormous embarrassment that haunts each person is revealed as an unremarkable and insignificant quirk which is often times shared by many. This work brings together the psychology behind the construction of the freaks in circus side shows and the psychology of the people who pulled back the canvas tent flaps to feast on the abnormalities of those on display inside only to make themselves feel more comfortable with their own insecurities. 
In keeping with the tradition of the circus banner line, these digitally assembled images are printed large scale on canvas and are hung by leather and brass ring fasteners. 

Step right up and marvel at the most unremarkable of human afflictions.