A recent graduate from Concordia University with an MFA in intermedia arts, Montréal-based artist Ayam Yaldo was on the hunt for a studio space. Adamant that her work should not permeate her home, she settled on this small yet charming studio space, which she shares with four other fine arts graduates. Upon entering her space, we are met with four silhouettes of feet and twenty-one creatures — half insect, half embryo — made of clay, carefully laid flat to dry on the table before being fired for the first time in the kiln. Right now, they are at their most vulnerable. A small brush in hand, Yaldo meticulously dusts the sculptures, which she affectionately refers to as her “girls.” But there is more coming. On the floor, covered by sheets of newspaper, are another girl and two feet; the clay is still humid and malleable. She eagerly shows me her workstation: a dirty, textile-covered wood plank that serves as a flat surface for working the clay. Nearby are a small bowl filled with water to smooth the clay, a rolling pin, and various sizes of metal-wire brushes, sculpting utensils, and dainty brushes, reminiscent of an archaeologist’s toolkit.
Dubé, Joëlle. “Dans l’atelier de Ayam Yaldo.” Esse: Resilience n°108 (May 2023): 72-75.
