Jessee Rose Crane first came to Ox-Bow at age 24 as a student at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Thirteen years later, she’s still coming back.
Most recently, Crane returned as a faculty member for our core academic season. Her studio practice is robust, ranging from inflating steel to performing live music and recording albums. In her lecture at Ox-Bow House, she shared about finding a place to nest within the arts and in my one-on-one conversation with Crane, she focused on the importance of making space for others in those same sectors.
When Jessee took possession of what would eventually become Rose Raft Residency, she didn’t know its contents. The building, a defunct funeral home constructed in 1872, was most recently owned by a hoarder. Crane had not yet seen the inside of the building when she signed the dotted line, and when she first stepped into the building, every room was brimming with materials that had succumbed to mold and mildew. Rather than trying to sort through and scavenge, Crane took action outside of her ordinary. She threw it all away. And she started from scratch.
It was more than an intensive remodel that made the process of opening a residency in New Douglas, Illinois a challenging one. At the time, Crane and her partner, Philip Lesicko, had questions about how leaving Chicago might impact them. “We’re leaving civilization. How are we going to function as a band?” was the semi-melodramatic question they asked themselves. In truth, the town is only 45 minutes from St. Louis, making their claim of leaving civilization a slight exaggeration, but it was a huge leap away from their core community and networks. Yet time has proved they aren’t hurting for their decision.
On the contrary, multiple Chicago-based musicians have made a point to visit them. Recently, Ox-Bow’s own Madeleine Aguilar (current Print Studio Manager and former Artist-in-Residence) recorded her first album at Rose Raft. It’s partially because of the residency’s remote location that allows them to offer a residency and studio recording facilities at a more accessible price, a factor that Crane is passionate about. Many of the artists that visit Rose Raft come to record their first album or EP. It’s clear that Crane derives a distinct sense of purpose from bringing in artists at such a crucial point in their artistic journey. “It really is like a stepping stone,” Crane said, “it’s like dipping your toe into what a residency experience is.”
Doozy, 2017, mixed media, found objects, steel, wood, bronze, magnifying lenses, 8’x3’x9’
It was at an artists’ residency at ACRE that Crane initially started to think about this element of accessibility in relation to the arts, an element she’d taken for granted. At the time, performing music served as a lifeline for Crane, who was grieving the loss of her brother Nathan. She was discussing the places she performed in Chicago when another artist chimed in, “I’ve never felt welcome in those spaces.” It was those words that chipped the glass for Crane. She started to see the culture as less than perfect and she began longing for something greater, something safer. “That’s why you go to residencies, kids!” Crane said in both jest and sincerity.
Crane understands firsthand how impactful the residency environment can be. It was her time as a student at Ox-Bow where she first caught the bug. “Having enriching meals and conversations and meeting people from all over… when I was student there, I was like ‘I want to teach here!’” Crane reminisced. And it was also during one of her summers as a student that she witnessed an artist’s talk that shaped the lecture she would give a decade later at Ox-Bow House.
During the years that Jessee was a student, lectures were given in the basement of the New Inn. One summer, Jimmy Wright gave a talk about his work. He presented slides on a series of paintings he’d made. Each were studies of flowers that were dried out or wilting. During the lecture, he shared about his partner dying of AIDS. “He spoke about it with such care, and just not even a white air of exploitation,” reflected Crane. To her, this served as a guide for how she could share about losing her brother, who died by suicide when she was in college. During prior album releases, she received several PR pitches that seemed bent on exploiting Nathan’s death for the benefit of the record. At the same time, she felt uncomfortable with remaining entirely quiet about her grief. In Wright, she found an example of how to share with love and candor.
Kink (detail), steel, plaster, 6”x3”x5’
This past July, Crane was able to share more openly about navigating arts school and grieving her brother than she’d ever done before in a lecture. An avid documentor of her work, Crane made a conscious choice to not record the lecture. “I will act differently if I’m being filmed,” Crane admitted, and she wanted the talk to be as honest as possible. And honest it was. Following the lecture, a number of students connected with Crane, confiding to her their kindred experiences. “How long will it take for me to feel okay?” One student asked her. And though she didn’t have answers to many of their questions, it was clear that just sharing those snapshots of her story had a profound impact on the audience. Or, to speak more personally, they certainly had a profound impact on me.
There was something deeply powerful and moving about the way she spoke to us, her audience. She stood close to the rows of chairs, she paced, she paused often, she lost her train of thought. It felt conversational. It felt… human.
During Crane’s stay on campus, I was able to drop in on her course Inflating Steel. Seeing Crane in action as a professor carried over a similar energy from her lecture. Present for an afternoon in which the studio was alight with students at work, I witnessed Crane coaching each student with her trademark kinetic and fervent energy. “Give it more! Give it more!” She cried out on several occasions as we watched the steel balloon open.
Headshot of Jessee Rose Crane. Image courtesy of the artist.
While Jessee Crane is often lauded for inflating steel (a method invented by Elizabeth Brim), her personal practice is quite expansive. In her own words, she “make[s] art out of everything.” Most recently, she enjoys working with lighter materials to make massive sculptures. “I’m trying to take care of my body,” Crane said. “So I can smoke longer,” she added with a wink in her tone.
Those interested in learning more about Crane or Rose Raft can visit jesseerosecrane.com and roseraft.org.