INDUSTRIAL VS. ORGANIC: The duality of ATL artist T.W. Pilar
‘The City In The Forest’ Reflected In Steel
“I have a really amazing connection with nature, to the point that I have now spent the past few years trying to intellectualize and create connections between how humanity lives right now and how it's still a natural evolution. I love nature so much that I want to paint pictures in which even the bad shit that humans are doing is also natural.” — T.W. Pilar
The captivating interplay of industrial materials and organic elements in T.W. Pilar's artwork initially drew me to her unique artistic vision. The way she seamlessly blends elements like steel, neon, and dried flowers creates a striking visual contrast that speaks to the complex relationship between humanity and the environment. It is this intriguing fusion and her exploration of transition and change that sparked my desire to delve deeper into her work and to know the artist behind these thought-provoking pieces.
If you passed through Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport late last year, you may have encountered Pilar's work firsthand. Her most recent exhibition, a collaboration with the airport’s arts program, transformed four pillars and a window display in the main atrium outside of the North Terminal into an artistic exploration of Atlanta's urban landscape and its relationship to the flourishing ecosystem woven throughout.
Meeting the Atlanta-based fine artist, she and her work appear as one. Pilar arrived to our interview draped in all black, with a chic slicked down haircut and designer bag. Her minimalism stretches beyond the canvas, as Pilar claims all of her clothing can fit in a single suitcase. She prefers high end not because of name recognition, but because of the quality materials they are made of, lasting far longer than the fast fashion brands.
PORTALS, the series of pieces that were on exhibit at Hartsfield-Jackson, was a year-long experiment for Pilar. A declaration of love to Atlanta, PORTALS — of large steel structures, adorned with dried flowers, bricks, and blue neon — was meant to transport the viewer to different sites throughout Atlanta. Alongside the structures, on four large concrete columns, were select prints adorned onto 3mm brushed silver aluminum. Together the pieces reflected a consistent theme throughout her work, the mixing of industry and nature, the natural and unnatural. For Pilar, there those terms are one-in-the-same.
“This idea, I call it ‘second nature.’ The term is borrowed from another amazing, object-oriented, environmentally-adjacent philosopher, but he used it just a little differently. I'm using it in the sense of anything that comes from us is trickle down traces of nature. So if it comes from either natural materials or is a product of ideation of humans, of human labor, of human resources, those are all little pieces of nature themselves.”
Dichotomy is a constant during our conversation. In the starting breath of our interview, the two of us spoke about how appropriate it was that we were attempting to have a philosophical conversation about art at an airport, similar to the challenge of stimulating minds with art in a place meant mainly for industry. Stationed in a food court at a grey table, next to the a Taco Bell (admittedly, one of Pilar’s favorites), next to us, an older lady, working as a custodian, cleaned a table while loudly discussing something via bluetooth headphones in a language neither of us understood, wearing a black plastic bag on her head that looks quite fashionable, and is exactly like the bags Pilar uses in her work. Serendipity!
These are the sort of “tenderness amongst chaos” moments Pilar attempted to foster in her PORTALS series. Each of the three PORTALS was meant to place the viewer at an Atlanta landmark Pilar considers a staple of our city. PORTAL 00, displayed in a cultural partner booth at the inaugural Atlanta Art Fair, was a line to the Millennium Gate Museum, the sponsor of the booth and a place where, Pilar says, “promotes having this beautiful green space in the middle of the biggest steel manufacturing area in the south,” described as a “little Eden.”
PORTAL 01, the piece featured at the airport exhibition, is a window to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens, a similarly green spot in the middle of a sea of steel, that she mentioned shares an arm with other urban vegetation — Piedmont Park. “The two concepts working together, industry and nature, being able to exist in a thriving way, in a powerful way, on the same acreage.” she explained.
Pilar credits the airport team with helping stir up the the idea of the PORTALS series, having conceptualized it while in discussion about what their arts program means. “It was really a love letter to working with this institution, as well as Atlanta. What does this airport bring to Atlanta? People. What does Atlanta bring to the people? Green spaces.”
Not only was the PORTALS series dedicated to Atlanta, it was also a community collaboration with Pilar at the helm. She conceptualized each work, then teamed with local businesses to bring her ideas to life. The steel work of the portals was done by a family company based in Edgewood. The neon comes from a commercial business. Even the featured photography is that of local artists.
The reasoning, like her artistic ambition, is two-fold. The first services the technical requirements behind the pieces. “I get to dream bigger. If I was limited on my own skills, I’d still be sketching.” She continues, “20 years in a family business, like running your grandfather’s welding company, that’s like 70 years of work experience. Trade skills and energy that’s going into the work that now other people get to absorb, too.”
The second rationale services the purpose of PORTALS. “They add to this idea of supporting our city. I wanted everyone to know that this is an Atlanta effort to create these installs that promote Atlanta. Through and through, it is Atlanta-oriented, and that was the goal for this.”
It’s clear Pilar has a great admiration for, and takes great inspiration from, the “city in the forest.” Having spent some time in Savannah during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, she elected to move back to Atlanta. Born in Kennesaw, she lived all across the South growing up.
“This is where my grandfather lived. It was where home was. He would fly me and my sister out wherever we lived, and there was always these magical moments of him driving us into the city, seeing all the lights, seeing the skyline approach — I don’t want to tear up — but it was just very him and us. He passed away when I was 17, but Atlanta was still home.”
This insight marked a breakthrough for me understanding Pilar and her art. When I interview artists, or experience art in general, a consistent goal of mine is to try to find the artist in their work. I want to know how the creator’s personal experiences have shaped what I see before me. Often times, no matter the medium, it’s very clear how their art relates to their life. People write songs about their failing relationships or paint pictures depicting their loved ones.
With Pilar’s pieces, I found it hard to derive such connections at first glance. I can see what she cares about, but not necessarily how she got to those conclusions. This isn’t a undoing of her work. Quite the opposite. The mystery drew me in more. Made me want to ask questions. But, in our interview, I wanted her to allow me in.
I asked if there was a part of her grandfather in the series?
“In all of my work, definitely. Specifically, the color blue. He used to call me his ‘blue tongue girl.’ I actually have a tattoo of this song he used to sing to me and my sister when we were being bratty. ‘You can’t love no blue tongue girls, ‘cause blue toughie girls are mean and they take all of your money.’ It was because I liked blue raspberry Dum-Dums.”
After such an extensive exploration of the series’ themes, I’m surprised at how Pilar responded when I asked how she plans to continue the series in the future. “The PORTALS series will never exist again.” She declared, the airport portals would be the final ones, as she only lets herself work in the same series for a year. Will be a sad goodbye? She smirks, “Good riddance!”
Her logic? Forced progression. Even though she’s already formed a very strong, confident artistic identity, Pilar is still a relatively new artist, and she refuses stagnation. She plans to introduce new textures, materials, philosophies, and feelings. “I have to end it, because I have these other bigger, more fine ideas.” She goes as far to critique her work up to this point, “a little too literal.”
Her previous collection, 2023’s Hyperobjects, featured black shopping bags, melted together in a quilt-like pattern and stretched across steel canvases. The holes, created by the melted plastic, were filled with petrified moss or left empty, showing the metallic surface beneath. If not given the previous declaration, a quick view may incorrectly interpret the work as purely a damnation of these materials.
“Viewers understand [the work], but they don’t understand it as an ode to industrialization. It’s simultaneously an ode and a critique. We can point out the flaws all day, but these are really amazing advancements that you actually don’t want to give up.” She continues, “Industrialization has done amazing things, just as much as it’s done toxic or polluting or horrible things.”
Has there been any pushback from viewers or critics about the her use of synthetic, first-use materials. She told me a story of one woman who continuously expresses her displeasure in Pilar and her work. “I have learned over the past few years, the real goal of my work is to promote introspection and self progression, not for me to tell you what’s right or wrong.”
One part philosophical pondering, one part yap session, I left our hour-long conversation with more questions than answers. Is technology killing our world or giving it new life? Is this burgeoning artist an environmentalist or the queen of trash? Is an airport food court where good conversation goes to die or a living lecture hall?
Like most artists — and philosophers — T.W. Pilar is not here to give you direct answers. If her work appears contradictory of itself, like was the case for that stubborn critic, well that’s to get you thinking. — CL—