Martha Guillorn: Echoes of Language and Memory

At Castello Art Residency 2026, Martha Guillorn presents an installation rooted in the intimate afterlife of language—how words, memories, and unfinished conversations continue to resonate through the body. Her practice turns personal grief into tactile sculptural structures, using electrical wire, coded text, wood, and architectural references to create a space where language becomes less about direct translation and more about touch, rhythm, concealment, and emotional presence.

What the main idea and concept of your project?

This projects builds on a series of text-based sculptures representing sentences in a

conversation that continues after one person is no longer there, helping those that remain

muddle through their emotions. They are a portrayal of stages of grief and adjusting to a new

way of knowing a person. These pieces can be read by touch, a form of communication that

does not require speaking or listening. By creating them I am giving physical forms to thoughts

or memories that plague me in the hopes that once they are given a presence in the real world

they will no longer continue to rattle around my head and give me some peace. At first these

sentences took the form of staggered horizontal and vertical lines on paper that let me freely

express my exact thoughts at the moment without worrying about lucidness. I then began

replicating many of these written thoughts into rough, tactile ceramic grids and as I refined the

ceramic versions I began considering other materials. I have made versions from carved

wood, cast aluminum, concrete, and have recently begun working on larger installations using

rubber coated electrical wire.

This installation marks a shift from working with English to creating texts in different

languages. How does changing the language transform the emotional experience of the

work?

In addition to English I have now made these pieces in Georgian and Italian, both of which offer

different opportunities based on their forms, the way they sound, and the histories of the

countries they come from. It also helps me consider my own feelings about these sentences

and how they may vary based on the materials I work with and the degrees of legibility for

myself. Working in Georgian was really fascinating for me became I cannot understand it at all,

whether written or spoken, and it was interesting to see how even though I could not read them

the same way I was still able to differentiate and organize them as I became familiar over time.

The new shapes of the letters was really fun to study and work with.

Here at Castello I am working with Italian, which uses the same letters English does but of

course the words are different. These sentences are immediately readable to me and it takes

no time to put them in the proper order. I am also reminded of a wonderful teacher I had when

I studied Italian many years ago and how fondly I think of her, which ends up tying back to this

entire project. Once I have completed this residency and documented my work I think I will get

back in touch with her and tell her how much my time in Italy has made me remember her and

how much I appreciate her kindness and care.

You use electrical wire as both a sculptural material and a carrier of language. What does

this material allow you to express that other materials cannot?

Electrical wire offers tremendous flexibility and bends delightfully to form all sorts of shapes,

especially the curves I enjoy. It is also often used in a practical sense to enhance

communication and connection. I use flat electrical wire that allows for visible twists and

increased dimensionality. The rubber coating is also tactile, pleasing to the touch, and adds

some color and artificiality to otherwise organic shapes.

The installation invites visitors into an enclosed space that resembles a sanctuary. What

kind of emotional or psychological experience do you hope people will have inside it?

I hope people will feel encouraged to reflect on their own thoughts and feelings in addition to

pondering potential meanings behind the illegible writing embedded in the sculpture. The

interior is an enclosed space but does not attempt to conceal, you can see relatively clearlythrough the gaps in between the wire and wood languages and the surrounding olive orchard

promotes peaceful and natural feelings.

Many visitors may not understand the Italian text. How important is legibility compared to

the physical presence and rhythm of language itself?

Legibility is not at all important and in fact I deliberately obscure the meanings. This work is

offered without translation or intrusive explanation and exist in a space as it exists in reality for

me: a conversation between two people that is not meant to be understood by others.

Removing thoughts in a safe manner that gives them space in the real world to free my mind is

much easier when I am able to retain some control over the inner workings of my brain. My

hope is that even if people cannot interpret these pieces word for word the sense of longing to

communicate and the barriers on communication life brings will be felt. These sentences can

be read by touch without being seen and I think they can also be heard without being spoken.

Your work combines personal memories with references to Christianity and Italian

architectural forms. How do these different layers come together within the installation?

This work touches on architectural elements of columns, domes, and arches while also

referencing elaborate and curling decorative aspects. The curvy wires are not only elaborately

decorative but they are also words taken from a prayer meant to bring about a sense of inner

peace and acceptance. The color palette is also heavily inspired by the red, blue, and gold

often found in Italian religious art.

The inclusion of a secondary phrase hidden in the golden stripes introduces another level

of meaning. What role does concealment—or discovering something that isn’t

immediately visible—play in your artistic practice?

Concealment is very important to me, both in terms of offering work without overt explanation

and in the physical forms the work takes. In other series of work I have hidden spaces, things

that cannot fully be seen, and often wrap or embed pieces leaving only part remaining visible.

The golden stripes are a separate written form containing song lyrics that is actually a

recreation of the first ink on paper versions I ever made of this series. When I first began

recording these sentences as thoughts and memories brought into the real world I would

quickly write them down on a sketch book as a series of horizontal and vertical lines. Even at

that time when my brain was whirling and I desperately wanted to preserve these thoughts I

always knew I did not want them to be read by other people so I always worked in a coded

manner that was not meant to be understood. Even though these blue wooden poles with their

golden stripes look very similar I am able to read them and make sure they go in the right order.

Previous residencies have directly influenced the evolution of this series. How has

working in different places and cultural contexts changed the way you think about

language and memory?

The first time I began working with electrical wire was at Sisters Run Spaces in Tbilisi, Georgia.

It was my first time making art in another country and, as with most residency opportunities, I

do not bring anything with me and remain open to inspiration found in a new place, both in

terms of concept and materials. I spent a lot of time wandering around Tbilisi taking in all of

these new things and trying to figure out what project I would make. I was especially

fascinated by the Georgian language, which I cannot read at all but find incredibly visually

appealing with many beautiful bends and curves. While looking for materials I went to Domino,

which is a large building materials store similar to Home Depot in the U.S. and, after lots of

looking around, found myself drawn to the giant rolls of rubber coated electrical wire. Aftertaking some to the studio and playing around with it I decided that instead of my initial

inclination to use it as a write armature for a larger piece I would try to recreate the Georgian

language in wire. I ended up with four separate sentences that looked so different from my

previous sculptural versions but were still the same sentences. This was a pivotal turning point

for me where I really began to think about expanded ways of writing and how different the

same words can be when using totally new materials and a new alphabet. I am so grateful for

this opportunity because had I never gone to Georgia I may never have had the inspiration to

work with other languages.

The theme of this residency is Sacrements: Echoes. What does the word “echo” mean to

you, both personally and artistically?

When I think of echoes in the context of this project I think of things that remain when the initial

event has passed, the ripple effect an experience or relationship can have over time. These

pieces are representations of memories from conversations had in the past, the echoes of

which still run through my mind. In a broader context my work in general often deals with

memories and emotions and the way we try to come to terms with thoughts that do not seem

to want to leave our minds and repeat over and over. I also often repurpose or scavenge parts

of older pieces and incorporate them into entirely new work.

This project continues a body of work that has been evolving for several years. Where do

you see this series leading next?

I hope to continue to expand on this series using different materials and written languages,

ideally by visiting new places and drawing from the history and language with a particular

interest in materials I encounter there, whether historical or more modern and industrial. When

I return home I would like to complete a large sculpture I have been mentally working on for

some time now that will incorporate a new version of my initial horizontal and vertical line

writing with a specific and special typewriter that is very meaningful in the broader context of

this series.

How do you plan to develop your practice?

In terms of this project I plan to continue reworking sentences in new forms using different

materials and fabrication methods. In addition I plan to revisit all of my ceramic, wooden,

metal, and concrete sculptural versions, that all take the shape of a grid, and experiment with

larger versions that are no longer restricted to the grid form, which was critical for me for a long

time. I am especially interested in carving large wooden beams for floor pieces and creating a

few circular or organically shaped pieces where the separate blocks are made from different

materials that come together as one. I would like to cast more metal versions and carve some

stones versions as well.

In terms of other work I have been consumed with a series of site-specific architectural

installations using extremely fragile and porous ceramic bricks that are designed to collapse

and disintegrate over time. During my time in Tbilisi I made several small scale models for

future works, one of which I made and installed once I returned home. I would like to begin

working on the other two installations and I am also still in the process of figuring out how to

make a very challenging and complex version that I am finding especially difficult and

enjoyable to troubleshoot.