Ling-lin Ku, assistant professor of Studio Art, is a multimedia sculptor interested in relationships of play and discomfort told through tactile and digital mediums. She joined the Oberlin Studio Art Department this past fall and is currently teaching ARST 133: Introduction to Wood Sculpture and ARST: 136 Intro to 3D Making & Thinking. Her upcoming exhibition, “Morning After,” will show at The Sculpture Center in Cleveland from April 10 to June 6.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
How would you summarize your upcoming exhibit, “Morning After?”
Food and sex. But it’s the underlying emotions of that, too. The longing, the desire, even the regrets — hoping things could be different. This misaligned self traveling through time and space, wanting but also almost repelling. There’s nothing super gross in the work — it’s mostly delightful and playful — but I think there’s also an undertone of things being unsatisfying. It’s not a perfect world.
What is the relationship between “Morning After” and your broader body of work?
It’s pretty connected to my past trajectory. My work uses a lot of local references, like food, architecture, language play, play in general, and body parts. I think there’s always a narrative you ultimately generate when you put two things together. That interests me as a sculptor: how things connect aesthetically, physically, and technically.
Why is sculpture the medium you work in? What is special about multimedia sculpture and the digital influences you include?
The decision of choosing Sculpture as my major was kind of like a leap of faith. You have to deal with gravity and different materials. There are a lot of variables. The kind of sculpture I make is also not just one medium like ceramic or glass; it’s multimedia and multiprocess. With digital fabrication, a file you make on the computer can become an animation, illustration, photo, fabric, wood, metal casting — there are infinite possibilities. It feels like a buffet. Contemporary sculpture can be anything. It’s like the whole world is a playground to me.
What does the balance between medium and content look like in your art? Do you focus on physicality in your work or do you go in with a particular idea of what it is going to mean?
The idea usually comes pretty organically from things around me. When I keep thinking about something, I usually feel that I need to dig into it more. I try to respond or do tests or see if I can turn it into some kind of visual language. There’s a difference between the idea versus the thing you make — the visual language you create — and the message you put in the sculpture. There are a lot of breadcrumbs or dots that you don’t know how to connect until much later.
For “Morning After,” I think I started with food, particularly cheese, and a bit of mischievousness, which gradually became about desire, wanting, and loss. Things start with simple pleasure and playful examination and become deeper and more complex. The beginning is like breakfast. I start with just egg and ham, but it’s got to be more than that. And then it is, and it becomes no longer just food. It’s never just about food.
The Sculpture Center describes your work as “tactile yet uncanny” in “Morning After.” How do you see the uncanny manifesting in your sculptures?
I like to play with a sense of recognizable eeriness. I myself am an identical twin, which is another thing that drew me to digital replication; you can replicate something so precisely, but add your own twist to make it different or hybridized. I’m always drawn to that kind of relationship.
The uncanny doesn’t have to just be a human being. I think there are so many things we recognize in the world, but you can change the context, the scale, or how you arrange it to create many different narratives. I think that’s why, to me, sculptures are almost toys on a playground that I can make my own world with. I like how the uncanny can come from the familiar.
What does your process look like in the studio?
I do both hands-on techniques and also digital fabrications. I’m able to model things that I envision or I even take a direct scan, like a nose and big toe in “Morning After,” that’s then transferred to a different material. I try to see how I can put things from my life into sculpture. Scale is quite important in my work. I also like to try different materials; there’s wood, metal, crushed eggshells, fabric — I’m losing count.
How do your personal artistic processes or motivations influence your teaching practice?
They’re very related. I teach what I research, and what is in my studio I bring to the classroom. I think that’s a very organic way of teaching. When a student is trying to be out in the world as an artist, I have the firsthand experience to share with them.
Why is The Sculpture Center a venue where you want to exhibit your work?
I’ve seen really interesting work from their series. I applied last year, and I’m so lucky that they’re having me for two shows this year. Three-dimensional work is hard to make, transport, and store, but a place like The Sculpture Center supports sculpture specifically. It’s such a treat. I enjoy the variety of the work they show, and it’s a great community. Since I’m new here, I feel like this is an opportunity to introduce myself and to say, “This is my work.”
What do you hope people will take away from your exhibit?
Sometimes there are no words. In the end, I think that’s always what I want people to experience. It’s not seen from photos, it’s not a paper I wrote about the work: It’s just you and the work in the room.
