Abstract space invader

It's either the creative process or the coffee she's nursing -- or perhaps both -- that has Crystal Wagner wide-eyed, almost giddy, hop-scotching between the piles of neon plastic strewn across the gallery's hardwood floor.

"I don't usually sleep once we really get started," the artist explains, evidently enjoying herself. "Maybe one or two hours a night until it's done."

It's Thursday, meaning they have about 26 whirlwind hours to finish her exhibition piece, "Immersion," which will be on display at the Crisp Museum through late January. She and her half-dozen helpers have been "stuffing" the enormous chicken-wire frame since Sunday.

Vibrant and massive, Wagner's sculptures are pinwheeling experiments in form and texture. Her pieces draw visual elements from nature and repackage them in technicolor dreamscapes that billow out across whatever space or gallery room she sets up in.

"One of my dreams is to wrap a building," she admits.

Wagner is used to scaling the heights necessary for building her pieces. (Laura Simon)

The resulting sculpture is playful and engaging, and since the curves and blooms are natural and essentially familiar, it's abstract without being inscrutable. Her objective, she says, is to rekindle our innate tendency to marvel at the natural world.

"This part here feels like a fissure," she says, disappearing into the center of the work. Equal parts roomy and claustrophobic, it certainly feels like a canyon; except it's blue-green and shaded like some sort of Atlantean sea-trench.

Once inside, she smiles. She sips. She runs a hand across the horizontal "mineral deposits" that line the walls. They're made of ripped-up ordinary party-store plastic tablecloths -- hundreds and hundreds of yards of them.

"The space itself is the substrate," she says. In other words, the room is the canvas. "Most people's aesthetic experience is dictated by the commercial dynamics of their environment. By repurposing this plastic, we're taking a texture people already identify with and using it to wake them up a little and connect them to these natural forms."

Besides using texture as a shared language, the sheer size of Wagner's art uses what she calls "the spectacle of scale." Her art-nouveau-infused playgrounds captivate in much the same way a waterfall might. For her art to be successful, she has to bring the essence of the outdoors indoors.

"It's like a plastic plant," she says, only half-joking. "Except it actually does what a plastic plant is meant to do; bring the exotic inside."

An avid hiker and backpacker, Wagner says she's also inspired by urban graffiti, since it's art that can only be fully appreciated when immersed in a space. It also takes some exploring to find and is inherently ephemeral. Everything about it resonates artistically with Wagner.

"All my pieces are site-specific," she explains. "You have to figure out how to move people through the space. It's gotta have that..." She pauses, "Woosh!"

A broad wave of her hand indicates just what kind of "woosh" is needed. A surprising portion of her working vocabulary is comprised of similar chirps and clicks; but of course, the rest are words like "substrate" and "art-nouveau."

She says that rather than thinking in words, she often finds herself thinking in sounds, grooves and other emotive interjections.

"I've noticed that there are parts of my work that appeal specifically to musicians," she says.

Indeed, some might say her work has a flair reminiscent of, say, the Flaming Lips.

"Yeah, actually their singer follows me on Instagram," she says.

Wait -- Wayne Coyne? Seriously?

"Yeah, apparently he's a fan," she says, smiling. She shrugs. "Aside from the colors and the scale, I think there's really a rhythm established here. It's a very loud experience. For me at least."

Before hopping back up on the 12-foot ladder to add some finishing touches, she makes sure to give credit where credit is due.

"I'm incredibly grateful that [my team of Southeast Missouri State University students] is so willing to help me grow these things." she says. "Especially Emily Thomason and Katherine Miller. They've pretty much put their entire lives on hold to assist me. So thankful."

Wagner begins folding up a giant screen-printed sheet of cardstock into what might be an otherworldly blood orchid.

"People like flowers. We should think about that more often. Why is that?" she says, She holds it up and squints like a film director, deciding where it needs to be placed.

"I like to make these pieces so that people are rewarded for investigation."

tgraef@gmail.com

388-3627

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By repurposing this plastic, we*'re taking a texture people already identify with and using it to wake them up a little and connect them to these natural forms. It*'s like a plastic plant, except it actually does what a plastic plant is meant to do; bring the exotic inside.*"

CRYSTAL WAGNER

Sculptor and visual artist