Kelly Carper: You mention that experimentation and discovery are an important part of your process. How have these informed new directions, discoveries or anomalies within this body of work?

Suzanne Sbarge: My process is all about making room for the unconscious to take the lead. I want to be surprised by what emerges. I start with an open-ended intention, allowing the unexpected to take form. Even if my experiments are ultimately obscured in the finished work, they provide a history and depth to the surface. A perfectly executed concept has no appeal for me. I always want to learn in the process and have my mind opened in some way.

I mentioned the strange 3D deer that was unplanned. I do believe that the things we do not plan are often the most interesting. Another example of this was during the process of making stop-motion animation. I was playing with having the deer’s eyes blink, and realized I didn’t need to keep putting the individual eyes back onto the deer’s face, I could use a whole separate deer head to give the impression of its eyes blinking. The imperfect placement and slight movement of the head being put on and removed created a unique gesture full of personality, nuance, humor, and connection with the viewer. It’s my favorite part of that scene.

Kelly Carper: Antelope Island and the Great Salt Lake were some of your biggest influences for this show, informing the characters that migrate across various media and compositions. What were some of the most impactful or inspiring discoveries you made in your experience and research of the local landscape, and how did that inform your subject matter?

Suzanne Sbarge: The stunning light, land, and fauna of Antelope Island captured my imagination. Not only is it stark and surreal like the landscapes of my paintings, which emphasize the horizon and the elements, it is an ecological wonder. I immediately saw it as the perfect setting to explore dualities and interconnections across species.

This project started with learning about the white pelicans which have historically nested off Antelope Island in one of the largest pelican colonies in the western U.S. It was entirely abandoned due to predator intrusion caused by low water levels forming land bridges, a result of climate change. But after a strong 2024 snowpack that raised lake levels, pelicans have recently come back. While the stories of climate change are endlessly grim, the pelicans migration and return feel significant and even hopeful. It points to the ability to adapt to survive. Abandoning home to survive and then returning under new conditions highlights how all living beings have connections to place and the desire to go home.

The delicate ecosystem of Antelope Island is remarkable for its abundant wildlife supported by the island’s freshwater springs despite being surrounded by the salt water of the Great Salt Lake. It is an isolated island ecosystem with an absence of large predators. The species there have important stories to tell, including the large herd of wild bison. In Indigenous ecological philosophy, animals are seen as kin, and the relationship with bison sustained thousands of years of human life before European colonization and holds deep spiritual significance.

It is important to acknowledge that the colonial campaign of eradication nearly destroyed bison and Indigenous lifeways together. The modern conservation narrative that began without Indigenous voices now intersects with contemporary movements for Tribal-led restoration of wild herds. While the conservation of bison on Antelope Island prevented further extinction, it also represents a legacy where colonization transformed an Indigenous relative into a managed species under state and commercial control. People can learn more about Indigenous-led efforts at Flower Hill Institute, a terrific organization I have worked with in New Mexico (read a article in The Salt Lake Tribune here).

During my residency in Utah, I realized that the work I was doing at OCA fits into an emergent, place-based movement of contemporary artists engaged in environmental justice and climate crisis narratives centered on the Great Salt Lake’s rapid decline. Although I’ve directed many projects addressing the environment, this new series is the first time my work has been grounded by place in this way. It feels very meaningful to be part of a shift in consciousness that many artists are catalyzing. Coming from another fragile, dry environment in the Southwest, I feel very connected to the issues around water and survival relating to the Great Salt Lake. It seems like a microcosm of dramatic changes in ecosystems around the world.

Kelly Carper: The color blue is a connecting factor throughout this series. How did this come about and can you discuss any symbolism it speaks to?

Suzanne Sbarge: I have a background in photography with a special affinity for alternative processes, and I’ve always wanted to work with cyanotypes. They are basically made from salt, sunlight, and water, so there is an elemental connection to the Salt Lake. The historical origins and handmade quality of cyanotypes give them a sense of nostalgia, which fits with my interest in the last 150 years of people settling on the edge of the harsh environment of the Great Salt Lake. I am drawn to the atmospheric and otherworldly qualities of that deep Prussian blue. Throughout this residency, the different mediums I’m using have been in dialogue with one another.

The deer with flowers blossoming from its antlers started in the animation, and then moved into a large painting, a 3D sculpture, and cyanotypes, and then negative film for the cyanotypes circled back into the conclusion of the animation. The crossing of species in my images is furthered by the images crossing through multiple mediums. I feel like they transform along the way, revealing new layers of meaning and consciousness.

Kelly Carper: How do you think of your work, and this exhibition in particular, in terms of accessibility?

Suzanne Sbarge: In terms of reaching my audience, the most important thing to me is that the story never shuts down; that it leaves you (and me) wondering and takes on a life of its own. I think the language that evolved during the home stretch leading up to the opening ultimately works. It draws people in and places the work in a context, without explaining it away.

I like to create images that blend mystery, humor, and the absurd, which generates curiosity from viewers of all ages and backgrounds. I want to reach a wide audience and share a mind-expanding experience, whether it’s through discussing serious issues of environmental devastation and the collapse of democracy to laughing about the deer with two tails and butt flaps that AI contributed to the 3D printed deer.

Collage is a very accessible medium. I use it myself and in teaching because it is a liberating and adventurous way of working that is full of surprises and is conducive to improvisation. Collage is often associated with the Dada movement born in Europe during World War I, which is known for disrupting logic and defying aesthetic categories. I like to work and teach in this spirit. In my career of presenting art over three decades, I always advocated that contemporary art is for everyone. I’m happy to see that playing out in my own work, which seems to be capturing the imagination of children and people from all walks of life, not just the art world.

Kelly Carper: How has this experience at OCA influenced your creative process moving forward? Any big shifts that will inform your studio practice beyond this residency?

Suzanne Sbarge: This is the first time I have set out to work with a specific environment, which is something I’ve always wanted to do. Previously I worked with more general found materials. Antelope Island was a good parameter for this body of work. I learned from the repetition of characters, which became a language, and different aspects of their personalities came through in the various mediums. They took on new life and relationships with one another along the way.

The concentrated time and mostly solitary nature of the residency allowed me to live and breathe art making for longer than I’ve ever been able to before. Getting back to alternative photography with the cyanotypes was like a reunion for me. I started in photography, and the medium has changed so radically it’s almost unrecognizable. It was refreshing to return to working with light, negatives, and developing images in an analog way.

I feel like Anomalies is the beginning of a new way of working that will continue to be place-based and interdisciplinary. I would like to expand the investigation how ecosystems and species are interconnected across regions, countries, and the planet.

I am going to keep working in three dimensions and will explore try casting 3D printed objects and building sculptures in a variety of mediums. I was previously resistant to using AI in my artwork, because it is environmentally unsustainable and I am a true believer in making things with my hands. But this residency shone a light on how certain tools of technology can further handmade work. I would like to travel Anomalies to other venues, and keep growing it and collaborating with other artists.

View Anomalies at Ogden Contemporary Arts through January 11, 2026, during our open hours: Thursday – Saturday from 10 AM to 6 PM, and Sunday from 12 to 4 PM.

Ogden Contemporary Arts
455 25^th Street • Ogden, UT 84401