In Conversation With Meagan Cignoli
Material experimentation sits at the heart of Meagan Cignoli’s practice. Working across clay, plaster, resin, paper pulp, and other materials, she approaches creation as a process of negotiation with material limits rather than the execution of a fixed idea.
In this conversation, Cignoli reflects on how material resistance shapes her work, how her creative process unfolds in the studio, and the artists whose approaches to material continue to influence her practice.
Your work engages deeply with material and process, where materials feel central rather than secondary. How do your chosen materials and techniques influence the way you construct meaning in your work? How does the physical act of making shape the final outcome?
Every material I work with has limits, and those limits are central to the meaning of the work. Clay is intuitive and responsive while wet, but as it dries it becomes brittle and fragile. Plaster requires slow, repetitive layering and extensive sanding; it is porous and never fully secure without sealing. Resin feels almost impossible to control, a material I wrestle with and return to despite its resistance. Paper pulp is joyful to sculpt yet labor intensive to produce, though it carries a different ethical weight through its use of recycled material.
I am drawn to that resistance. I often begin working in one material and then feel pulled toward another. Instead of committing to a single process, I allow materials to interrupt each other. I might build in plaster, create the details in clay, instead of firing it, encase it in plaster and perhaps seal it in resin. Each layer alters the structural logic of the object. Something stable becomes unstable, something fragile becomes preserved yet suffocated. Meaning emerges not from illustrating an idea but from responding to material behavior.
Can you walk us through your creative process? What inspires you to begin a new piece, and how does that initial idea evolve as you work?
Because of my downstairs neighbor, I can only work from 9am to 10pm. I would naturally work from 7pm to 3am, but I’ve accepted those limits. That boundary has actually made me more intentional with my time.
I want to work constantly, so part of my process is reminding myself that productivity is not the goal, flow is. Because of drying times and layering, I usually have five to ten pieces in progress at once.
I used to separate materials strictly: one week clay, the next plaster. Now that structure is gone. In my small studio I might have oil painting in one corner, lost-wax carving in another, glass cutting for fusing on a table, and clay and plaster happening in the same day. It’s chaotic, but it somehow works.
In the morning I begin by adding layers to pieces already in progress before starting something new. When I do start a new piece, I often begin digitally. If I’m working from an image of two figures embracing, I blur the details, reduce it to color and shape, and outline the form in Photoshop. I simplify it into a single mass and then try to build that shape physically. It almost always changes once I start molding it.
If I’m working in plaster, the interior might be built from discarded materials and taped forms, which I then sculpt and refine. The structure is often improvised, and the final surface emerges through sanding, layering, and correction.
A lot of what drives me is pushing myself. I want to work larger, try new combinations, and be better than I was before. Making is also a way of coping. When the world feels heavy, the studio is where I regain a sense of focus and steadiness.
Are there artists or influences that have shaped the way you approach material and making?
I’m deeply drawn to artists who treat material as something transformative.
The work of Ritsue Mishima has influenced me through her use of clear glass and abstract form. Her sculptures feel minimal yet powerful.
Maarten Vrolijk inspires me through the scale and detail of his vessels. They appear restrained in photographs but are monumental and immersive in person. As someone who often works with minimal forms, I admire how he creates spectacle without loudness.
Sergio Roger has also shaped my thinking. With my background in fashion, I’m naturally drawn to textiles in art, and his integration of fabric in sculpture expands what material can do.
Seeing their work in person has been especially important to me. The physical presence of materials can never be fully captured in photographs.
Strata brings together two female artists whose practices are rooted in material exploration and intimate crafting. For both Bea Ladrón de Guevara and Meagan Cignoli, materials are not secondary, they are central to meaning. Bea works through the slow, ritual process of creating her own pigments, while Meagan explores a wide range of fragile, tactile materials, allowing change, imperfection, and ephemerality to remain visible. Their works share a deeply personal, inward-looking approach to creation, one that values softness, presence, and intuition.