38 jUStpUt
JULY 20. 2007
A N O I A8 OXOHd
art
Making Babies
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Binational sculptors conquer America after enduring homophobia in Latvia
by Julie Sabatier
B
illie Holiday’s voice drifts over the small,
sunny studio space that Inguna Skuja and
Melissa Braden are building for themselves
in Northeast Portland. Partners in work
and in life, this is where the pair spend the
bulk of their time, their four hands working deftly to
construct porcelain sculptures lush with color, humor
and political savvy. They collaborate on every aspect
of the work, from design to glazing.
Skuja Braden (as they are known in the art
world) recently reheated to Stumptown and will
be the featured artist at this month’s reopening of
the Museum of Contemporary Crafts in the Pearl
District.
Skuja, 41, and Braden, 38, first met in 1995 at
Humboldt State University nestled in the Northern
California redwixxis, but they would not start work
ing together until 1999. That’s when Braden trav
eled from her home state to Skuja’s native Latvia to
study at the Latvian Academy of Arts in Riga.
The two reconnected late one night in a bar
popular with local artists. In broken English and
Latvian, they commiserated over Skuja’s recent
divorce and the impending end of Braden’s 10-year
relationship with a woman in the States.
Skuja was becoming an established figure in
the Latvian art scene, while the award-winning
Braden was pursuing her passion for painting, film
and art history.
“I really looked down on ceramics. I just thought
that’s where all the stoners were at Humboldt State,”
says Braden. “Everything changed when 1 met
Inguna. Porcelain, the way it feels when it’s green, is
so exciting to me.”
When the two began collaborating, the art
world took notice of their fresh and exciting work.
Synergy came naturally to them right from the
Inguna Skuja (left) and Melissa Braden were
physically assaulted and threatened for dancing
together at art openings in Latvia.
start, as they combined Skuja’s classical training
and eye for beauty with Braden’s postmodern
sensibility and radical politics.
“Her ideas sometimes are so gross,” Skuja
remembers with a smile. “In the beginning we
made so many gross pieces, but some of them were
really cool.”
Braden is quick to add: “Inguna has such
incredible skill. She really knows what porcelain
will do. Without her I couldn’t make anything."
fter three years in Latvia—and, before that,
California—the duo are finishing their sixth
studio, building it themselves from recycled mate
rials on property rented from friends in the Alberta
Arts District. Skuja and Braden say they’re starting
to feel at home in a new city they find welcoming
as artists, as a couple and as Buddhists.
They are certainly more free to express who they
are here than they were in Latvia, where homosexu
ality is still reviled by many. The Baltic state erupted
in protests against its first Gay Pride march in 2005.
The next year, the city of Riga refused to issue a per
mit for the parade, citing threats of violence.
“When I first came to Latvia, Inguna was like:
‘What is this lesbian.7 We don’t have any lesbians
in Latvia.’ And I was like: ‘Cool. I’m going to be
famous here then.’ And it actually happened. 1 did
become really known there,” Braden explains.
In a culture where artists are treated like celebri
ties and admired as sex symbols, many of Skuja’s
colleagues strongly advised her against coming out,
especially to the prying entertainment media.
“We had this big magazine interview, and they
asked, ‘Are you lesbian or something.7’ And 1 asked
what nationality that is,” says Skuja. Despite this
attempt at ambiguity, Braden says the two were
physically assaulted and threatened for dancing
together at art openings.
Skuja compares her life as a Latvian artist to that
of a Japanese geisha—an image that is prominent in
her collaborative work with Braden. “If you are good
on your social skills, you can survive,” she says. “You
have to be charming, lovely, all those things.”
When asked if she considers herself a.feminist
now, Skuja is hesitant to answer directly.
“Feminism for many Latvians equals lesbianism,
and she’ll always say ‘no’ to that,” Braden inter
jects. “She’ll always say she’s not a lesbian, even
though she’s been with me for almost 10 years.”
A
Skuja nods, telling me she considers herself bi
sexual hut shies away from labels in general.
Skuja was surprised by the reaction of her col
leagues but found solace in one simple fact. “What
can I say.7 The smart people are cool in all coun
tries," she says.
raden and Skuja’s relocation to the United
States has brought with it a shift in the kind of
work they’re making and selling. In Latvia, they say
they were able to move more functional art pieces,
such as ceramic plates and vessels, whereas here
there is more of a demand for decorative sculptures.
“On the West Coast, it’s more of a figurative
scene. If you want to sell in California, figurative
sells," Braden explains.
This was how the pair began making a series of
porcelain baby sculptures.
“We make our children into pets and we make
our pets into children, and it says something about
our culture,” Braden says. “And also because we’re
two women, I was thinking why not make babies.7”
The series includes “Chick,” a girl baby with a
human body and chicken wings; “Flower Child,”
Skuja Braden's porcelain sculptures are lush
a child bent over with poppies coming out of its
with color, humor and political savvy.
ass; and “Two Faced Bastard,” a baby boy with two
heads growing out of one neck. Another one titled
together are painterly, as though the shape of the
“Pet” is a four-legged child with large, feline eyes.
object is secondary.
Because they are large, complex pieces, the
Their shared Buddhist faith has also shaped
babies often require a lot of their “mothers.” Skuja
Skuja and Bradens work. The couple are planning
describes working on one for 14 hours straight,
the work that they will do in their residency at
without breaking for a meal. “It’s basically you’re
Sitka Center for Art and Ecology in Southern
working on operations like a doctor. They don’t
Oregon. They want to create a series of painted
run around and eat," she says.
porcelain tiles that will eventually become an ani
These labor-intensive pieces reflect the essence
mated interpretation of a Buddhist sutra story.
of Skuja and Braden’s work—they are lush, color
“To me, true collaboration is a dance, sort of
ful and masterfully constructed with twisted and
like making a baby,” says Braden. “You’re just doing
irreverent humor.
it together, and you’re not trying to conquer the
“1 like to make Inguna laugh when we’re
person that you’re working with or make your mark
working...because when you’re taking everything
stronger than their mark.... It’s getting rid of the
seriously, it can kind of dry things out,” says Braden.
ego altogether and focusing on the best thing
possible that the two of us can make together.” ©
“Usually, if 1 have an idea and 1 show her and she
starts laughing really hard, then I know this is going
S kuja B raden will be the featured artist during the
to be a great piece and we have to make it.”
grand reopening of the Museum of Contemporary
While both women say they’ve learned a lot
from each other, they do cite some other influ Craft beginning with Craft PDX: A Block Party from
ences. Braden admires the work of prominent
noon to 7:30 p.m. July 22 at 724 N.W. Davis St.
French sculptor Louise Bourgeois, and Skuja holds
the work of Latvian painter Felicita Pauluka in JULIE S abatier is a Portland freelance writer and
radio producer.
high regard. Many of the pieces they’ve worked on
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