I do not own a gun.
As a father and educator, I can’t help but be mindful of the gun violence that permeates this country. My children participate in active shooter drills that have become commonplace, hiding under desks and cloakrooms, and, all the while, having the intellectual capacity to know these measures do little in comparison to the ferocity of a firearm. As I teach, I, too, think of the possibility of who might come through my classroom door.
According to statistics, over 356,000 students have been affected by gun violence, a staggering and almost incomprehensible number. Mass shootings have become an American icon, with over 632 incidents in 2023 and 647 in 2022.
Some estimate that there are over 20 million AR-15-style weapons in circulation; this does not include unregistered weapons and weapons built from ghost guns, unserialized and untraceable firearms that can be bought online and assembled at home.
My works are ruminations on this dark undercurrent of American culture that both captivates and horrifies in seemingly equal measure. I do not have the answers for this complex situation, but as we take the time to have meaningful conversations about our current situation.
Classroom Caulk Board and Pastel, Collaboration with Eden Rich (age 5)
Stoneware, Working with a trained marksman this three inch thick slug of clay was shot with an AR-15 style weapon at a distance similar to that of common shootings. Capturing the voracity of the projectile.
Teacher’s school chair, 12-year collection of stuffed animals,
Object matter: objects have meaning. Objects left behind by those we love have gravity, heartache, and power. This work is an acknowledgment of those teachers, including the modest chair so many educators have sat. Once icons of wonderment, joy, and celebration, the stuffed animals become anchors of sorrow, consolement, and memory. The relics left matter.
Oil on canvas
This work is inspired by Rembrandt’s The Night Watch and Wood’s American Gothic. The Portrait of My Children is a work of speculative fiction depicting a future where we are the youth to survive daily life.
Jansport Backpack, shoes
Cast glass
The only part of a gun that is a gun is the lower receiver. All other parts are accessories for the receiver. These have been cast in glass to heighten the fragility of the general understanding of assault weapons.
Cast Porcelain
Thomas Hunter Project Space
Hunter College
New York, NY
Cast ceramic, Glass Reinforced Gypsum, Steel, 2019
Metaphorical symbology lays thick: rising tides and boats, the 1% will never be occupied, or “life of pi” meets “an inconvenient truth.” Choose your insoluble outrage.
The cartoonish style –all buffoonish 4-digit hands— allows a brief moment of child-like acceptance, which reflects our reduction of the complex into absorbable “truths.” With each “hand” demanding salvation from above, the desperate clambering buoys “hope” away. Thomas’ dark pragmatism exposes that, even when all boats rise, nothing changes. Tragically, we ignore the obvious: the boat is a distraction, too small to save anyone; a paddleless toy yawing on populist desire.
~ Ryder Richards
Dallas based artist and critic
cut drywall, acrylic paint
I’m still not entirely comfortable in crowds. After COVID, isolation became more than just a necessity—it became a kind of default for me. Working alone has felt safer, easier in some ways, and the idea of returning to public spaces or crowded environments still feels unfamiliar, even a bit unsettling.
A Crowd of One is my way of processing that discomfort. It’s an honest reflection of my own experience with re-entering spaces that I used to move through without a second thought. Exhibiting work and being around others now carries a different weight, a sense of both longing and hesitation. This piece doesn’t offer solutions or answers, but it does offer a window into my attempt to reconnect, not just with others, but with the sense of belonging that I still find elusive.
second hand
Chalk, ceramics, found furniture and found china, knife-rest, oranges, 24-karat lusterware
An installation comprising paintings, handmade vessels, and found objects interrogates the motivations informing home décor and display, such as desires for upward social mobility. Historically, ceramic vessels served as markers of class, displayed in homes to convey status and worldliness. Exploring the role of the vessel as status symbol in Art History, Ian F. Thomas made three chalk renditions of the American artist John Singer Sargent’s portrait The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit (1882). The original painting featured four young girls with two enormous Japanese vases, prized possessions of the wealthy Boit family. The prominent display of the vessels reflects the ways in which ceramics have traditionally signified so-called “good breeding,” as well as a troubling Western tendency to fetishize Asian material culture.
More so than any other medium, ceramics lead double-lives: they can be rarefied artworks or utilitarian objects. Undermining the already tenuous distinction between the two, Thomas mounts ordinary, dirty plates on the wall where one expects to find a commemorative or limited edition object. Handmade ceramic vessels are poorly painted, arranged on and around mid-grade antique furniture, suggestive of the ways in which aspirational design often falls short. Oranges are a playful nod to the history of Dutch still life painting, where the inclusion of citrus—imported from great distances—was the ultimate symbol of wealth and luxury.
-Dr. Paula Burleigh
Art Historian and Curator
The gallery became a workshop for participants- referred to as “workers”—including a punch clock and dress code. Based on a predetermined work schedule, workers would come into the dimly lit gallery, punch their time card, put on a lab coat, and go to work. The workers were students of the Art Department of Western Illinois University, where the exhibition was held. The purpose of the time clock and coat were more than just theatrics. It is through time spent that work is made. I wanted each worker to experience the physical act of punching in and out as a commitment to the work. Through this act, they gained a deeper and more complete understanding/reflection on: time spent and work done.
Acting in small groups, workers were asked to reflect on tools that they have used in their past and then asked to remake from memory in clay. 1000 pounds of earthenware was positioned in the middle of the room as their clay supply. Like a factory, each person would walk from their designated workspace to the centralized block, remove a small amount, and then return to make their tool. The workers determined the content of each object based on their personal interpretation of what “tool” meant, and whether it was worthy to be made. A garlic press, a hoe, pliers, a condom, and hundreds of other objects were made. The process of navigating through what a tool was, what that term meant.
These vessels were made at West Virginia Universities Ceramic Production Studio. With the use of a RAM Press over 100 vessels were made from start to finish in 2 days.
