B I O G R A P H Y

Tessa Hoenig is a ceramic sculptor and illustrator dedicated to creating objects that feel abundant, textural, and overwhelming, physical dreamscapes of her overactive imagination. Originally from Fort Collins, Colorado, Tessa obtained her Bachelor’s of Fine Arts in Pottery in 2020 from Colorado State University. After graduating, she moved to Missoula, Montana and was granted a 2 year position as a Post-Baccalaureate student at The University of Montana. Tessa is currently a long term resident at the Clay Studio of Missoula.

She maintains her art practice in balance with backpacking, biking, and dancing unskillfully. Tessa is dedicated to creating opportunities for self-growth and abundance in her work while also considering what it means to be an artist in a world where excess is harmful to the planet.

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A r t i s t S t a t e m e n t

I create bodies of work with the intention to translate the energy of quick, casual doodling and writing directly into a physical practice in clay. I make art with an introspective, journalistic sentiment, creating accumulations of odd objects that reflect the language of my sketchbook: scrapbooked and doodled, crossed out and circled, with roaming to-do lists, and hairy doodled creatures who undulate between real and imagined.

My ceramic pieces are journals of time and reactions to life, with both the mundane and the events saturated with emotion. These sculptures record the way in which most days feel unnoteworthy, but when they are lined up and patchworked together, they become abundant and vibrant. My pieces are compilations of the objects and musings cluttering my memory and imagination: children's books, films, board games, dreamscapes, songs, and sadnesses. They are records of the music I listen to as I make: scraps of clay with rhythmic marks, the pulse I feel embodying me when I hear a sultry bass line in a Prince song, expressing itself in a sweeping gesture onto clay. That, or gouging marks and craters giving themselves away as markers of frustrating days. 

Each object and slab has an inherent personality that makes their eventual confluence feel like a rambunctious conversation between many unique individuals. These slabs have textural and graphic indicators that are not clear in their metaphor, but more private and elusive. These are worlds created through the haziness of memory, a combination of fact and fiction. When I look back at a piece, I see a collection of moments in my life with indicators for the sake of remembering: a ladder, a house, a striped t-shirt, the grocery code for a honeycrisp apple. I enjoy giving a viewer only a small window into the meaning of a piece, in the same way I would let someone look at the drawings in my sketchbook, but not let them read the words. These pieces are not unlike the way we present ourselves to the world. A bright, happy, shiny exterior, gaudy and ornamented, with truths not clearly written, not clearly perceived.