Nickola Pottinger is a Jamaican-born, Brooklyn-based artist who explores memory and materiality. A rising art world star, she has recently exhibited her work at Mrs., Swivel Gallery, Chapter NY, Sergeant’s Daughters, The New Museum Triennial, and in solo presentations at The Armory Show and Art Basel Miami Beach.

Pottinger’s current solo exhibition at Mrs. in Maspeth, Queens, like yuh neva lef’ yaad, was reviewed in The New York Times and named a “must-see” exhibition by Artforum, as well as a See-Saw Editor’s Pick. The show runs through March 9, 2024.

Interview by Logan Royce Beitmen

Many of your recent sculptures depict duppies (ghosts). Have you ever seen one?

Yes, and I recall many stories told to me growing up by family members who saw duppies frequently. Sometimes they are deceased family members, sometimes not, and sometimes they are mystical fictional characters—indigenous to home—and also folklore that I’ve been told from my childhood. I have seen some in my lifetime, but more or less as a spirit or ancestor. I have always suspected other presences at a young age.

*Duppy x Redhills*, 2023, Paper Pulp, Fiber Glass, Pigments, Oil Pastels, Gold Leaf, Felt, Tears and a Hair Bauble, 32 x 20 x 8 inches, 81.3 x 50.8 x 20.3 cm

Tell us about one of the mystical fictional characters that shows up in your work.

One of the sculptures, titled ol’ hige in the exhibition, references a folktale about an old woman, or an old witch, who sheds her skin overnight and becomes a feline figure. Initially, I had not gone into the work with the intention of producing a figure that references a story I’ve been told in my childhood; however, it really speaks to the channeling that occurs in the process and in the studio, and that work is probably one of the closest testaments to that process.

*ol’hige*, 2023, Paper Pulp, Fiber Glass, Gold Leaf, Teeth, Oil Pastels, Pigments, Black Soap, Shells, Resin, Hairclips and Copper, 20 x 36 x 20 inches, 50.8 x 91.4 x 50.8 cm

On a scale of friendly to frightening, where would you rank the duppies you’ve sculpted? Does your attitude toward them change while you’re working on them—or afterwards?

Duppies have typically been described as being malicious figures, sometimes with teeth, and I would say they’re described as rather frightening. I think the perception of them, and what they could mean, varies depending on how old you are and your own preconceived ideas.

Obviously, as a child, I had perceived them to be scary spirits. Stories paint an impolite setting in which they are more malevolent than good. There are some practices and home rituals used to ward off such spirits with the use of frankincense and other items, and I use some of these items in my work, in which they serve as totems. These totems bestow a protective layer or element.

I think it’s important to understand the cycle of life and the afterlife, so I don't characterize all that is from the spirit world as malicious. Rather, they can also act as guardians, and that is the purpose that my sculptures seem to offer. There is a limbo between two forces, and a transitional lapse of past, present, and future.

Within my work, guardian spirits are often metaphorically linked to birds, whether that be overtly, or in the form of a wing to symbolize birdlike figures, whom I deem as messengers between life and afterlife. So, my works are definitely an amalgamation of that which is ancestral, and that which is folklore, and that which is spirit. I’m also fascinated by the concept of ghosts existing in a very transitory landscape between life and death. My work itself is quite nocturnal—conceived mostly at night, alone. The circumstances in which I work lend themselves to that characteristic.

*Hellshire beach 2*, 2023, Paper Pulp, Rocks, Pigments, Oil Pastel, Gold Leaf and Hair Baubles, 26 x 26 x 16 inches, 66 x 66 x 40.6 cm

When you’re making these figures, are you thinking about specific people, or specific stories?

A lot of my work materializes in the process of making, and from there, there is a channeling that occurs.

*Alvernia prep school*, 2023, Paper Pulp, Yagua, Pigments, Oil Pastel, Gold Leaf and Paper Clips, 59 x 13 x 17 1/2 inches, 149.9 x 33 x 44.5 cm

You use a wide range of materials, from bones and teeth to palm fronds to vintage furniture. You even turn old family documents into pulp, which you use as a sculpting material. What is your emotional or psychological relationship to these materials? How does it feel to work with them?

I have collected archives, mostly paper, from my family homes to create my sculptures and wall reliefs--and they hold a certain power and familiarity to me. These materials are intentionally used as a form of protecting, and building, legacy. I see the transcription of family history and storytelling illustrated in the forms that I create. The collected papers and other items are specifically from my family homes and are a retelling of sorts.

There aren’t any bones in the work, and the teeth were collected from a very young age, from junior high school, when my mom used to work at a dental lab for several years. My dad and I would often pick her up from work, and so I would be able to tour the lab. I had grown fascinated with the work of the technicians and was fortunate enough to collect the teeth over time. They are items I’d collected because I had been studying human anatomy and drawing figuratively for some time. The teeth serve as metaphors in the works in relation to dreams and memory, and they also activate or imply the chewing and eating away of the surface of many of the sculptures. The teeth hold a profound meaning for me and are remnants from my childhood.

In reference to certain pieces looking like bone, I am always experimenting with my materials to resemble familiar objects without them being overtly so. So, I’m glad you thought that there were bones in the work. They are not bones.

*Fern gully*, 2023, Paper Pulp and Pigments, 14 x 12 x 1 1/2 inches, 35.6 x 30.5 x 3.8 cm

Some of your titles refer to real places in Jamaica, such as the Red Hills region, Fern Gully, and Hellshire Beach. What do these places mean to you?

Yes, some of the titles are real places in Jamaica and are places I visited or where some of our family members are from.

I had traveled often with my grandmother to run errands or see extended family up in the mountains. It was a journey I relished taking because of the beautiful scenic views and narrow roads. I even remember the music that was playing on the radio at times on those rides up the hill. I have a vivid memory of the color of the soil on the day of my great grandmother’s funeral, and how that is forever stained in my memory.

Hellshire Beach—I’ve made two sculptures in relation to this work—the beach is located in Kingston, one of a few currently undergoing severe climate change, reduced shoreline, lost coral reefs, and polluted waters. This is one of the beaches I frequented every year as a child, and every summer afterwards, and over time it has diminished in size because of the aforementioned. It still is a sacred place, for which I hold fond memories.

*Genkle Jesus meek and mild*, 2023, Wood, Paper Pulp, Pigments, Oil Pastels, Gold Leaf and Hair Clips, 16 x 16 x 12 inches, 40.6 x 40.6 x 30.5 cm

*fry fish an festival*, 2024, Wood, Paper Pulp, Pigments, Oil Pastel and Teeth, 14 1/2 x 36 x 7 1/2 inches, 36.8 x 91.4 x 19.1 cm

In light of how deeply personal and spiritual your practice is, how much do you think about what happens to your work after it leaves your studio? When an individual collector or a museum acquires a piece, are they essentially adopting a duppy, and does that come with certain responsibilities?

The purpose of the work initially is to build, and protect, a legacy—not just of my own personal history, but of the history of where I come from, and a culture that extends beyond country. The materials used in the work, as well as the information that informs the work, are transcribed in a sculptural format. And so, just as stories in folklore are typically transcribed in a written language, this is another format of transcription, another format of documentation. The sculptures include not only autobiographical elements but ones that speak to a broader audience. They represent a magnified version of those elements.

So, when a collector collects my work, it speaks to their appreciation of that legacy. I think it demands a level of intelligence and cultural appreciation and curiosity and affinity if one is to collect my work. It further lets me know that the collector is seeking to collect art beyond just vain aesthetics, but as an intellectual and enlightened pursuit. There is no responsibility other than that they continue to speak to the work and the meaning of it and the labor behind it and the history that conceived it. So, I’m very happy anytime someone obtains one of my works, because they will also feel the magic and spirit within them that initially attracted them to the work. I am always tapping into an essence when making the works, which I strive very hard to conjure.

like yuh neva lef’ yaad is on display at Mrs. through March 9, 2024

Logan Royce Beitmen is a writer and curator who lives in Brooklyn, NY.

Images by Olympia Shannon