Corrina Sephora Sculpture, Painting and Mixed Medium Artist

Tell us about your studies in metal and sculpture in Boston.

I studied Sculpture at MassArt, and I was fortunate to attend during an exciting time. I had the opportunity to double major in Sculpture and Metalsmithing, which allowed me to explore a wide range of techniques and develop ideas both large and small. My interest in sculpture started in high school through jewellery making, during this time my curiosity deepened, as I  had started welding with my dad at a young age—about five years old. I always knew that this was something I wanted to pursue

Nirvana

MassArt was the perfect place to nurture that passion. The facilities were top-notch, and the faculty were incredibly talented and supportive. The community there was also a huge part of the experience—I’m still in touch with many of the people I studied Sculpture with. It was a challenging environment, but in a way that pushed me to grow. I remember on the first day of school, one of the professors told us, ” One percent of all art school students will go on to practice what you study, and make a living doing that, once you graduate from  school ” That really stuck with me and shaped my approach to both my work and my career.

         AVIRONS, Collection  III Photo credit Terrell Clark

Information that has put you in good stead for your current work.

An lot of what I learned when I was in college about using blacksmithing in Sculpture and learning traditional techniques and incorporating it into sculpture, combining the sculpture with ideas and concepts that were important to me and using metal sculpture as the vehicle or the space to have the language exist to have the stories be told.

In the studio, Dwelling in a sea of time and space – before it left for Italy. Photo credit David Clifton Strawn

How far have you deviated since then?

When I went back to graduate school, I began working with new materials and expanding my practice. I revisited printmaking and started incorporating cast iron into my work. I also ventured into collaborative projects, which was a new experience for me, and I took video classes. I really enjoyed the contrast between contemporary imagery and technology, like video, alongside the ancient techniques of sculpture and metalworking.

From the mountains to the ocean,Je+t’aime, Photo credit Jill Buckner

My graduate studies at Georgia State University provided the perfect space to explore these ideas further. It allowed me to experiment with materials and concepts while continuing to develop my technical skills in metalworking. It was a time of creative freedom, where I could push the boundaries of my practice and truly explore the intersection of old and new technologies. 

What are you currently working on? 

Currently, I’m working on an exhibition called Beyond the Cosmos, which I just installed. We are getting ready for an Artist talk moderated by the curator that all three of us artists in this show worked with to exhibit in Venice, Italy last year.

Ethereal Walking Boat (Sculpture), Welcome to the Universe (Painting) AVIRON Eclipse (Wall sculpture) Photo by the Artist

This new body of work represents a slight departure from my previous exhibition in Venice, Italy, titled Dwelling in a Sea of Time and Space.

Beyond the Cosmos

In that show, I explored the journey of life, using video projections on the floor of water with 118 boats, seven planets, and an Oar—elements I refer to as ‘Aviron,’ which is French for ‘oar.’ The work focused on the beginning of time and was inspired by a story I read in a book on alchemy and mysticism.

In contrast, Beyond the Cosmos moves more toward the physical object. The exhibition includes a large copper wave, a 8 foot by 16-foot painting of the universe, an ethereal walking boat, one of my Aviron oars, and planetary pieces that incorporate lights and crystals. There’s a playfulness in the way the work explores the voyage of life, blending mysticism and spirituality with metalworking techniques.

This new work allows space for the viewer to reflect on their own journey, while for me, as the artist, it serves as a way to chart experiences of life, death and the after world and allows the viewer to explore where they’ve been, where they are going and the imagined and real moments along the way.

You have done many residences take one that has been of great interest and why?

I’ve done several artist residencies, and I’m a big believer in stepping outside my regular workspace to find new inspiration in different environments. I’m especially excited to have recently been awarded a year-long artist residency at Atlanta Contemporary in Georgia, which will allow me to create new work in my own city.

Among the residencies I’ve participated in, the Vermont Studio Center stands out as one of the most profound. I spent a month there, and the experience was deeply impactful. The center is located right on a river, and the community was made up of about 75 artists from all over the world. We shared three meals a day, and I had a job on the grounds working in the gardens for a couple of hours each week. That simple, hands-on work was a meaningful part of my creative process.

The Vermont Studio Center also had a meditation dome, which gave me a quiet space to reflect. I keep in touch with some of the artists I met there in 2006. During my month there, I set a daily practice of creating one drawing and one small sculpture each day. This routine helped me develop a sense of flow and experimentation, which is important in sculpture, where there’s often a lot of technical planning involved. By making a piece a day, I was able to tap into intuition and let the work emerge more freely.

While I was there, I made 14 small boat sculptures, and the other artists started calling me ‘The Boat Lady.’ After two weeks of creating these smaller pieces, I had the idea to combine a series of boats into one large installation. This was a pivotal moment in my practice, as it led me to explore wall installations and more immersive sculptural work. When I returned to my studio, I created one of my favorite sculptures, Where Have I Come From and What Will I Leave Behind?, which was recently acquired by the Museum of Contemporary Art of Georgia.

Where Have I Come From and What Will I Leave Behind?

You do commissions both private and public, explain about one from each group.

Public:

I create commissions for both private and public environments. One public commission that I’m particularly proud of was awarded through a national call for sculptors. They started with about 50 applicants and narrowed it down to five. I was fortunate to be selected, and they flew me to Freeport, Illinois, just outside of Chicago, to present my proposal to the mayor and the Arts Council. They covered all my travel expenses, including accommodations and a rental car, which made the entire experience incredibly exciting.

The project was for the Freeport Art Museum, and I was tasked with creating a sculpture that reflected the town’s history and environment. Freeport is located on a river, so I did a lot of research into the area’s history, including the indigenous people who lived there, as well as the town’s growth over time. I also explored the elements that brought the community together and incorporated those symbols into the sculpture.

Bridge Beyond.

The final work consisted of three tall sculptures titled Bridge Beyond.

It was an honor to be selected for such a meaningful project, and I truly enjoyed the process. This commission was a turning point in my career, as it pushed me to think more deeply about how public art can connect with both history and community.

 Private:

For private commissions, one of the most memorable opportunities early in my career was working with a private client who commissioned me to do all of the metalwork for their residence. This included highly sculptural architectural metalwork. Over the course of about three years, I created sculptural railings, sconces, and several fireplace screens, among other pieces, for a multi-million private residence. It was an incredible project, and I had the opportunity to design every piece from the ground up.

When the project was completed, I asked the client if I could host a celebration to showcase the work. I also brought in additional sculptures and placed them throughout the front and back gardens. One piece in particular, my Walking Boat sculpture, caught their attention, and they decided to purchase it to keep at their private residence.

 

Walking Boat Sculpture, forged, fabricated, and patinated copper, 64″x 30″x 48

That experience was a lot of fun, and I’m still in touch with that collector. They’ve since built a lake house, and we’re currently in conversation about potential new projects.

You gave an address in Chicago at the National Women’s Caucus for Art. Expand on your thoughts on women and art in the 2020’s.

While I was in Chicago for the National Women’s Caucus for the Arts, I had the honor, of being one of the speakers. It was truly wonderful to address such a diverse and talented audience, and to be in the company of incredible women artists from all over the world. During my talk, I gave an overview of my work as part of a conversation I titled Forging Forward. The theme was about overcoming obstacles and not being stopped by the word ‘no.’ I reflected on moments in my career where I could have given up, or where I stepped outside the traditional boundaries of what women were ‘supposed’ to do—either in the world or as artists.

The conversation seemed to resonate with many of the women in the audience, and I had the chance to bond with several of them. Some of these connections have led to lasting friendships. I also found that many of the women’s works touched on similar themes to mine. For example, my mother passed away from bone marrow cancer, and I began exploring the imagery of cancer cells in my work. One of the women I met, an art curator, was working on a body of work with similar conceptual ideas, even though her visual language was quite different. She invited me to be part of a major exhibition in Chicago, which was an exciting opportunity.

Another artist I connected with was Marguerite, a sculptor from the West Coast. She later referred me to an exhibition in New York City, Behind the Mask, which showcased 30 women metal sculptors and welders. That exhibition was an amazing experience.

Giving the lecture created a space of vulnerability, empowerment, and connection. It was truly fulfilling to share my journey with others, and I’m grateful to still have professional relationships and close friendships that grew out of that conversation.


Guns; as a starting point. Explain about your work, ‘Blood of the Earth’.

Remington Rifle Bouquet 1

Where did the concept come from?

Blood of the Earth is a concept that draws from a couple of different sources. The first comes from a book I read about the ancient blacksmithing process. The term ‘blood of the Earth’ was used to describe iron ore being mined from the Earth. The ore, which often appeared red like blood, was considered the ‘blood of the Earth’ and, in ancient times, iron was seen as a symbol of power and strength. In alchemical traditions, it was almost a magical material to discover and work with. There were even ceremonies involved in the process of transforming iron ore into a ‘bloom’—a mass of purified metal. In some cultures, this transformation was seen as a sacred act, with the blacksmiths playing a central role in turning raw material into something powerful and usable.

Blood of the Earth

The second inspiration comes from an experience I had when I was about 19 years old, at Haystack Mountain School of Crafts in Maine. I met Doug Wilson, one of the first blacksmiths I encountered. Outside his studio, he had feathers hanging, and I was curious about them. I asked him what they meant, and he told me, ‘I had to set the metal free.’ I was fascinated by what he meant, so I asked him to explain further. Doug told me that the people in the town had given him old, recycled metal from a building that had been torn down—turns out, it was the town jail, and the metal came from jail cell bars. Doug had transformed those bars into feathers, symbolizing freedom. He said he had ‘set the metal free.’

This encounter stayed with me. Later, when people began giving me metal pieces to transform, I remembered Doug’s story. One day, I was asked to transform guns into something new. This was around the early 90s, and I recalled Doug turning jail bars into feathers, so I wondered, ‘What if I could turn these guns into something beautiful?’ Around the same time, my irises started blooming flowers my mother had given me from bulbs she had passed down. I thought, ‘I could make flowers out of these guns.’

Blood of the Earth – detail

A notable moment came when an Iraq War veteran brought me an AR-15 and asked me to transform it. I was being filmed by a reporter from the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, and they wrote an article and made a video about it. I decided to turn the barrel of the rifle into flowers, and that was the beginning of my ongoing exploration of transforming weapons into art.

Years later, a filmmaker reached out to feature me in a documentary, alongside another artist who was also working with guns in the aftermath of a school tragedy. We were both inspired by the concept of transforming violence into something beautiful. After the film was completed, the other artist, Joseph, shared it with a friend of his. His friend watched it and said, ‘Joseph, I love what you’re doing with your work, but who is that woman in the film? Does she have more of those sculptures?’ That friend turned out to be Elton John. And that’s how I ended up being part of Sir Elton John’s collection.

Rifle Bouquet

Where did the guns come from? 

The first guns I worked with came from a church, as part of the concept of ‘swords into ploughshares.’ I was invited to bring my forge to a church just outside the city, where I transformed guns into garden tools. This concept wasn’t entirely original to me—I did some research on the idea of repurposing weapons into peaceful tools. I chose to create an adze, an ancient hand hoe that was like tools used by the Egyptians and other cultures throughout history. Once the guns were transformed into these tools, they were visually striking and conceptually powerful. I loved the idea, and the images of these transformed pieces were shared on social media.

Later, I was introduced to an Iraq War veteran who, following the Parkland shooting, wanted to have his AR-15 destroyed. This was part of a larger movement of veterans who, after experiencing the trauma of war, were making a public statement about the dangers of civilians possessing semi-automatic or automatic rifles. Many veterans, including this one, chose to destroy their guns and publicly share the process on social media. This was my second transformation project.

Afterward, I was connected with a group doing a project in collaboration with the Martin Luther King Jr. Historic Site and Bernice King. The project focused on mothers who had lost their children to gun violence. I was invited to participate in a weekend-long event, which involved a variety of activities. One part of the project included a gentleman from the Midwest who brought a furnace to melt down guns. We melted the guns and transformed them into shovels. The ceremony was poignant, as mothers, including Bernice King, brought the guns to the furnace, where they were melted down to make shovel handles.

Afterward, we worked with Trees Atlanta to plant trees using the shovels on the grounds of the Martin Luther King Jr. Center, as well as at various other sites to honor victims of gun violence, especially youth and those who had lost their lives due to police violence.

Comment on ‘Native Lands 11’ as part of this work.

When I worked with the group at the Martin Luther King Jr. Historic Site, we received guns that had been collected through a gun buyback program in California. These guns were cut into pieces, almost like smithereens, and my job was to sort through the box and, like a kind of puzzle, reassemble the parts just enough so that we could melt them down. The pieces came from various types of guns, and as part of the process, I was gifted a number of these parts to use in future sculptures. One of the pieces I created from these gun parts was used in an altar for the project.

Reliquary 1 & 2

After that, I was connected to another organization based outside of Colorado. Unfortunately, I can’t recall their name right now, but they focus on turning guns into garden tools. I became the point person for the Southeast region, working with individuals who wanted their guns destroyed or transformed into something positive, like garden tools.

One project that stood out involved two guns that were given to me by a woman whose father was a police officer. These were personal firearms—a Beretta and another gun—which appeared to be almost brand new, still in the box, and hardly touched. The woman felt uncomfortable having them in her home and asked me to destroy them. I decided to make her a feather sculpture, drawing inspiration from Doug Wilson, whose work I admired.

As I worked on these pieces, I reflected on the history of the American West, where settlers claimed the land, and how indigenous peoples were pushed further and further away.

Native Lands, 11 I wanted to create a piece that honored the spirit of the Native American peoples who originally inhabited this land. These sculptures are meant to honor their memory and their struggles, and they were eventually exhibited in Colorado, where the organization that connected us is based.

 One of your larger sculptures, ‘Uprooted Voyageurs’ is full of meaning, please expand on this.

The sculpture Uprooted Voyagers was part of a body of work I created that focused on the refugee experience. For about a year, I made a series of sculptures inspired by the idea behind the saying ‘We’re all in the same boat.’ These pieces explored the interconnectedness of humanity, the idea that we’re all on a shared journey through life. One day, while browsing the internet, I came across an image of a refugee journey. It showed a boat that had nearly disintegrated, with people struggling in the waters. The more I looked at it, the more it resonated with the work I had been creating about shared journeys. I realized that the image captured a powerful reality—that sometimes we are all in the same boat, but at other times, that boat disintegrates, leaving people to navigate the unknown.

Uprooted Voyageurs

This moment led me to dive deeper into the stories of refugees. I began reading articles and learning about the experiences of those who are forced to leave everything behind and start over in unfamiliar lands. From this research, Uprooted Voyagers was born. The piece is about the experience of being uprooted—of having to leave everything you know and embark on a journey that takes you through multiple countries, often facing immense hardship along the way.

This theme is still relevant today, as refugees continue to flee from conflict and persecution in many parts of the world. In Georgia, there’s a town called Clarkston, which is known for being one of the most diverse areas in the world per square mile. The town’s mayor has made it a point to welcome refugees, and there are even community programs like a place called Refugee Coffee, which supports refugees and helps them integrate into the community. It’s an example of how a town can create space for people who have been uprooted, showing that the journey of refugees is not just something happening overseas but something that is also happening in our own backyard.

This piece was recently acquired by the City of Atlanta, as a part of recognition for work that I am creating nationally and internationally.

This is also related to your etching, ‘Uprooted Boat’ comment on the way you use several mediums in one project.

Uprooted Boat II 

When I’m creating sculptures, I often start by working in a sketchbook, doing preliminary drawings to explore ideas.

In addition to sculpture, I sometimes collaborate with a printmaking studio to create etchings, monoprints, lithographs, or mixed-media prints that are connected to the sculptures I’m working on. These prints often serve to expand on the ideas and themes in my sculptures, and that’s how these etchings came about.

In your ‘Lunar, Studies in Time’ you use several mediums in work, discuss.

Lunar Studies in Time was a series of drawings I created shortly after my mother passed away. The inspiration for this body of work came from something my mother said to me before she passed: “I’m sending this prayer to you from the moon.” I found that phrase deeply moving and thought-provoking, and it became the catalyst for the series. The drawings explore the connection between her words, the moon, and the sense of time and memory I was processing during that period. It was a way for me to honor her and the sentiment she left behind.

Lunar Studies in Time IV

What was it like to be in Venice as a modern-day artist?

Exhibiting in Venice in the context of the Venice Biennale was one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life. One of the aspects that made it so special was the opportunity to see an incredible diversity of artwork from around the world, representing a global spectrum of artistic voices. The selection of artists and their work was truly inspiring, and being part of that environment was a privilege.

What made the experience even more meaningful was exhibiting my own work in Venice. There was something incredibly special about being immersed in such a prestigious, global exhibition space, surrounded by the rich history of the city and its artistic legacy. It felt like a rare moment of connection within the international art conversation.

Being part of this global dialogue allowed me to grow as an artist, as I was stepping into uncharted territory. It also gave me a fresh perspective on the long-standing tradition of artists participating in the Venice Biennale, especially during its 60th edition. One particularly moving aspect of the Biennale for me was the representation of Indigenous artists. For the first time, the United States’ representative at the Biennale was an Indigenous artist, Jeffrey Gibson, who is Choctaw and Creek. I’ve been following his work for years, and I admire how he blends ancient traditions with contemporary art, honoring the voices of Indigenous peoples today.

Dwelling in a Sea of Time and Space

On opening day, I had the privilege of witnessing an unforgettable performance by Indigenous dancers from various Native nations across the U.S. Their costumes—beautiful handmade jingle bell dresses—along with their shawl dances, brought to life ancient cultural traditions in the heart of Venice. It was a powerful reminder of the vitality and resilience of Indigenous cultures.

As for my own installation, Dwelling in a Sea of Time and Space, it was well received during the opening night. The room-sized installation honored water and the journey of life, featuring 118 small boat forms and seven planets, each representing one of the original celestial bodies. There was also an avon—a French term for a magical staff used to connect the spirit world with earthly realms. This installation was inspired by ancient alchemy and mysticism, as well as blacksmithing traditions, where the blacksmith is not only a toolmaker but also a diviner, healer, and sometimes even a sorcerer.

The boat forms in my installation were deeply personal. They are inspired by my grandfather, a retired fisherman, and by the Viking tradition of sending their dead across the water to the next world. The boat, for me, symbolizes the journey from one phase of life to another, a passage between realms. My installation aimed to evoke a sense of timelessness, connecting the viewer to both earthly and spiritual journeys.

My work was one of three featured in the exhibition with the European Cultural Centre, and we worked closely with curator Shannon Morris, who organized our show. As part of a group of three artists from Atlanta, I wanted to bring our experience in Venice back to our home city, so we curated a follow-up exhibition in Atlanta. This show gives us the opportunity to continue the conversation about the work we presented in Italy. It’s a way for us to stay connected to the international art community while maintaining our local presence. There was also a fourth artist, who was part of our group in Venice but not included in the Atlanta exhibition, hailing from Alabama.

Overall, participating in the Venice Biennale was not just about showcasing my work, but about engaging with a global network of artists, sharing stories, and celebrating the power of art to transcend borders and connect people across cultures.

How did Creating financial support and Funding exhibiting and transporting your work in Italy happen? Any suggestions for other artists?

When it came to funding the project in Italy, most of the support I received came from individual clients and collectors who believed in the project and were willing to support my vision of taking the work overseas. It was truly a leap of faith—stepping into uncharted waters—and I’m deeply grateful for the trust they placed in me. To help raise awareness and funding, I organized a series of events in my collectors’ homes as well as at the gallery I work with, Spalding Nix Fine Art. These gatherings were a way to share my plans and the process of preparing for the exhibition, and I was pleasantly surprised by the outpouring of support from my collectors, peers, and curators.

In addition to private donations, I received some funding from the Office of Cultural Affairs to support my international exhibition, which was incredibly helpful. The events I held—both in private homes and at the gallery—were key to connecting with people and letting them know about the project. There was also some crowdfunding involved, but we kept things relatively low-profile until we were ready to make an official announcement.

If I were to undertake a similar international project again, I would seek corporate sponsorship. This was one of the biggest lessons I learned through this experience. I would also take more time to carefully plan the costs, particularly related to shipping. I initially underestimated the complexity and expense of transporting the artwork internationally, and I would advise anyone in a similar position to build a much larger budget for shipping and logistics than you might think. I’ve also considered the idea of creating works that are easier to transport, perhaps by designing them to be broken down into smaller pieces, which would eliminate the need for art handlers and make the process more manageable. I met several artists who successfully transported their work in this way, and it’s something I would explore for future projects.

Overall, while I’m extremely grateful for the support I received from my collectors and the city, corporate sponsorship could significantly alleviate some of the financial pressures, especially when it comes to the more logistical aspects like shipping.

 Welding, takes us from a trade to Contemporary art, discuss.

 There’s a rich history of metal sculpture that bridges both ancient blacksmithing and contemporary art, blending functional craftsmanship with conceptual and sculptural practices. While techniques like welding, blacksmithing, metal casting, and metalsmithing have traditionally been associated with trade and craft, they have evolved into powerful mediums for contemporary artists. Although these methods were once primarily used by tradespeople, today they are central to the work of many contemporary sculptors.

One of the most well-known figures in this realm is Richard Serra, whose monumental steel sculptures have redefined the use of metal in art. Other influential artists, like Louise Bourgeois, have also explored metal as a medium in their work, creating sculptures that are deeply conceptual and emotionally resonant.

For me, a significant source of inspiration comes from the ancient spiritual practices intertwined with blacksmithing. In these traditions, the craft of forging metal was not just about creating tools or functional objects, but also about ceremony and transformation. This blend of art and ritual deeply informs my own work.

Last year, I had the honor of being part of an exhibition in New York City called Behind the Mask, which featured 30 women metal sculptors. The exhibition became a traveling show, and I was thrilled to represent women in the field of metal sculpture on both a national and international stage. This experience highlighted the growing visibility and significance of women in the field, and it was a moment of pride for me to contribute to this broader conversation about the role of metal in contemporary art.

 ‘On the Surface of the Water’ explain about this work and how you anticipate the swarms to be mounted. 

“On the Surface of the Water” is an installation that features multiple boat sculptures, each a small, individual piece contributing to a larger composition. The idea for this work first emerged during an artist residency at the Vermont Studio Center, where I set myself a challenge to create one piece of art every day—one drawing and one small sculpture. I did this for 14 days, and after reflecting on the work I had created, I envisioned building a large installation composed of smaller components.

My background in metalworking plays a significant role in how I approach this work. I use a particular metal-forming technique called spiculum, where a piece of sheet metal is shaped by cutting and forming it over a wooden stump, creating a boat-like shape. I began by making a series of small boats, initially placing them on the wall in a way that resembled a flock of birds in flight. I used foreshortening to create the illusion of the pieces getting smaller and fading off into the distance. This concept of movement—boats on the surface of the water—evolved into the first iteration of the installation.

The installation was accompanied by a series of stop-motion drawings and a video in which I appear in a canoe, which I had repaired, drifting out into the morning mist at sunrise. The video captured the serene beauty of the moment, which is also reflected in the installation itself. Since that first version, I have created several installations of this kind, often for private collectors, and the work has continued to evolve in scale and composition. Some of these installations feature up to 70 small boat sculptures. I used a similar approach in my installation, Dwelling in a sea of Time and Space, and the installtion Celebration Cinquante.

Dwelling in the Sea of Time and Space V1

In terms of how the work is mounted, I typically create a wall map, labelling each individual component of the installation, which is laid out on the floor before being attached to the wall. The layout process is an integral part of the work, as I carefully arrange the boats into a composition that feels dynamic and fluid—like boats moving across water, or birds flying in formation.

I enjoy the challenge of creating an installation that appears to float on the wall, composed of multiple small metal objects. The resulting composition evokes the sense of lightness and movement, which I find complements contemporary architecture well. For me, the process of assembling these pieces and watching the installation take shape is both meditative and joyful. The result is an installation that not only feels alive, but also has a strong visual presence, whether it’s mounted in a private collection or a public space.

Contact:

Corrina Sephora

Details

CorrinaSephora.com

Corrinasephora@gmail.com

Deborah Blakeley, Melbourne, Australia

Interview by Deborah Blakeley, January 2025

Images on these pages are all rights reserved by Corrina Sephora