Material Memories

Charlotte Maracina
Makerversity Stories
5 min readMar 6, 2024

Artist in residence at Makerveristy, Grace Pappas, spends her time researching and learning the stories materials have to tell. You should too.

Pappas with her sculptures
Pictured: Grace Pappas and her artwork

It’s just a Nivea cream container. To others it may seem like a piece of trash, unworthy of keeping. To sculptor Grace Pappas, however, it’s a memorial of her late grandmother. When she opens up the container she notices the imprints of her grandmother’s fingerprints, a reminder that although she may not physically be here, her memory lives on.

Nivea cream in container
Pictured: Pappas’ grandmother’s Nivea Cream container

“We have all of these things we’ve left behind…like the food [my grandmother] made…She was making lentils and one of the seeds of the lentils fell in the sink. Later, a little lentil tree started growing, so you kind of notice it more intensely when that person gets removed and then you just see how they’re still present; like there are still parts of them,” said Pappas.

The Nivea cream that Pappas first shows me, which she carefully preserves in a little vitrine box, perfectly introduces the focus of her whole art career thus far: the capacity of materials to hold memories and tell stories. Pappas’ artistic work and research over the past decade centers around the recognizing and understanding the stories that materials can tell.

“Material can learn, material can be a part of and engage with its environment, and there’s a lot of theories that are talking a little bit about this. A lot of my work is opening up these examples, either through research or through practice,” said Pappas.

Pappas’ work, which has been brought to life in exhibitions held at places such as the Victoria and Albert Museum, stems not just as a result of her love for physics, math, archaeology and art, or from her time spent studying at UAL and Royal College of Art; but largely as a result of her upbringing. She spent her childhood in Greece running around the naval grounds her grandfather once worked on; playing hide and seek in warships as her grandfather aided in the Greek resistance movement during the dictatorship.

As Pappas describes her childhood, she shows me a hardshell black box containing mementos of her grandfather’s time in the Navy and of her childhood spent roaming the base. Pappas radiates with excitement and passion as she opens up the box containing buttons from her grandfather’s uniform and pieces of chipped paint from a navy boat. “[The concepts] live in my head and then they come out into my work. My dad, he’s an engineer. Other families might talk about politics at the dinner table, but we were talking about the stars and the universe and mechanics and what moment of inertia is.”

naval memorabilia
Pictured: Pappas’ grandfather’s naval memorabilia

Pappas’ collection of her grandfather’s naval buttons reminds me of a small wooden boat my late grandfather once owned that now sits on my dresser. After a few moments of reflecting on deeply personal items such as my grandfather’s wooden boat, it becomes obvious that some items hold memories. But, what importance does seemingly insignificant items such as chipped paint have in the grand scheme of things? Why was it important to Pappas to preserve a chipped piece of stone she found from the fountains outside the Louvre?

“Material proof is sometimes more factual than the way we translate information in practice…I think the environment is always there telling us things. And it’s really important to listen to that. And it’s very important to tune into that in very different ways,” said Pappas.

As Pappas elaborates on the environmental impact of material proof, she brings up the concept of desire paths. Desire paths, as explained in an article by The Guardian, are “paths & tracks made over time by the wishes & feet of walkers, especially those paths that run contrary to design or planning.” These paths, also known as free-will paths, are used by urban planners to plan out where sidewalks and other routes should be paved.

“[Material proof] could have an environmental impact that will help us understand the environment better, understand our context better. It could have a humanitarian element to it as well, if we’re thinking about work that people might be doing in that direction,” said Pappas.

Pictured: Pappas’ creature-like statue with a Fresnel water lens

Looking at her work, which includes a creature-like statue with a Fresnel water lens and a chain of tiny sculptures she made during COVID when going into a studio to create art was impossible; it’s her most recent project that stands out to me. At first glance, it’s just a couple of pine cones along with brass carved into the shape of pine needles, but as Pappas explains the piece, it’s clear that appearances can be deceiving.

In 2018, Greece experienced one of the deadliest fires in modern day Greek history. As Pappas explains, the wildfires occurred in residential neighborhoods and were caused due to poor planning, leaving hundreds trapped in the area and resulting in 100 fatalities. The pinecones, which come from a specific invasive pine species in Greece, were both witnesses and culprits.

“In this situation, this pine cone is a witness to that event but it’s also a little bit of a culprit,” said Pappas. “It’s quite an aggressive invasive species but it’s also quite weird because we’ve grown up with it in Greece… As kids we would make daisy chains out of pine needles so that’s what I’m going to do today, I’m going to make some brass daisy chains, capturing the story of something that’s quite nostalgic but also in this context quite sinister.”

Pappas displaying the pinecones
Pictured: Pappas showing the pinecones (left)

Leaving Pappas’ studio, I begin to notice everything around me. Just as Pappas points out her grandmother’s fingerprints in the Nivea cream, I realize my own fingerprints in my Burts Bees lip balm. Walking back to my flat I notice the desire paths paved in London Fields; paths forged by the thousands of people who once enjoyed a day in the park and paved over by urban planners who took time to notice the park-goers’ imprints.

Sitting in a coffee shop I trace the carvings of two initials on the table, presumably made by a couple wanting to solidify their love, with my finger. They may have broken up by now, but the memory of their relationship will live on that hardwood table forever.

Learn more about Grace Pappas’ work by visiting her website https://www.gracepappas.com/ or follow her on Instagram @studiogracepappas

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