Editor’s note: Rylee Nelson is featured in our May 2025 exhibition, Ones to Watch. See the exhibition here.
“Certain things,” according to Derek Walcott’s 1984 poem Midsummer, “are quietly American.” The St. Lucian poet is, of course, being ironic. There is nothing quiet about the way Americans do anything, much less celebrate the summer months. But there is something distinctly American about the first item on Walcott’s list: a chain-link fence that constrains and separates what was once open and free.
The familiar pattern, an interlocking grid of galvanized steel, crops up repeatedly in the landscapes of Rylee Nelson, an emerging painter raised in the sparsely populated towns of Idaho and Montana. The chain-link fence pattern is one of many symbols that Rylee returns to again and again as she mines her childhood for memories that now feel foggy and untethered from the rural landscape where she grew up. “There were many great aspects to living so rurally,” says Rylee. “The expansive nature, close-knit relationships, and small-town charm were the most prominent benefits. But I began to realize the heavier, lasting effects of isolation during my first few months in college. This was my first true experience in a populated, lively environment, and along with the energy and perspective it gave me, I was reflecting most on my past experiences. This comparison allowed me to recognize how the drastic physical disconnection had taken a toll on my relationships and mental health.”
The chain-link fence, more than the stars, flowers, or birds that Rylee manipulates and maneuvers into position, evokes isolation, restriction, separation, authority, and control. There’s something ominous, even punitive, about its outline, undergirding the other symbols, which are pasted onto the muted landscapes like decals or appliqués. Over time and with many iterations, these emblems morph into representations of Rylee’s loved ones, or even herself, but remain detached, independent from the bleary rural backdrop of her memory. They are temporary visitors in these liminal spaces, messengers from beyond the veil who symbolize longing, mortality, and inevitably, change.
Despite the weather-resistant qualities of galvanized steel, nothing lasts forever, especially in Rylee’s work. Even a chain-link fence has a gate, an opening, an escape route. Paradoxically, while a fence can symbolize separation, it also creates a welcome boundary between the comforts of home and the cruel unknown. And, unlike other barriers that separate us from memories, from people, from physical structures and land, the open weave of Rylee’s chain-link fence allows the sunlight to shine through.
In Today’s Q+Art Interview…
Rylee Nelson discusses “trainwrecking” her studio, long summer drives as self-care, and why she’s in no rush to go anywhere particular.
What's playing in your studio right now? Make us a mini playlist.
Rylee Nelson: I’m so glad you asked! I’ve had these on repeat:
“All Mirrors,” Angel Olsen; “Space Junk,” Wang Chung; literally anything by ML Buch; “Violaine,” Cocteau Twins; the entire soundtrack of Phantom Thread.
What's your favorite creative ritual?
RN: My guilty pleasure is laying out my supplies in an annoyingly organized manner before diving into a piece. It gives me a weird sense of stability before trainwrecking the studio for the day.
If you could have dinner with any artist, living or dead, who would it be?
RN: I think I’d like to sit down with Nan Goldin. Nan was one of the first artists I felt deeply intrigued by when I began to take my work seriously. I came across her at the beginning of my art career, and my interest in her photography hasn’t diminished. I’m a huge fan and would probably bring a mile-long list of questions to ask her!
Is art school worth the money?
RN: If you’re able and willing! So much of art school helped me discover a direction in my work. This being said, it’s not necessary for success as an artist. My long-term goals require certain schooling, so it was worth it for me. I truly think there is no correct answer to this, as it depends so much on each artist’s goals and needs, but I’m a strong advocate for the experience.
What is the best advice you've ever received? What's the worst?
RN: The best advice I’ve received is that there truly is no rush! I apply this to everything in my life. There is no reason to feel hurried, especially in the context of a career as an artist. The timeline is so arbitrary for each person, and comparing your own to someone else’s is pointless.
And if I’m being honest, I can’t think of a single “worst” piece of advice. I feel like I’ve got some good, helpful people in my life (lucky me!) who tend to dish out great guidance rather than bad.
What do you do to maintain your mental health?
RN: Go on long drives, especially in the summer (windows down, duh). Driving is my favorite form of self-care; it gives me time to sit with my thoughts, listen to music uninterrupted, and just get out of the norm for a bit. I also make sure to talk with people! It’s easy to isolate yourself as an artist, and keeping a solid community is essential for my mental health.
What do you most value in your friends?
RN: I love when my friends and I share a similar style (or lack) of attachment. Not being expected to see each other every week is so refreshing to me. I love the types of friends you can hang out with once a month and still click into conversation as if it were yesterday.
What are you working on that you're excited about right now?
RN: I’m currently a candidate for a Master of Fine Arts at Utah State University! I was recently accepted, so I’m churning my brain for new artistic pursuits. I’m hoping to take my art in some new directions, including new mediums, subjects, and scales. Excited is an understatement!
Rylee Nelson: Website | Instagram
This interview has been edited for length and clarity. All images published with permission of Rylee Nelson.