We were lucky to catch up with Abbi Ruppert recently and have shared our conversation below.

Abbi, appreciate you joining us today. What’s been the most meaningful project you’ve worked on?

During the summer of 2019 after my third year of undergrad, I built my first public sculpture for a wonderfully unique program at Southern Illinois University Edwardsville called Sculpture on Campus. I put my blood sweat and tears into that sculpture, Revival, a 12-foot-tall abstract work I fabricated from steel and mortar. That first experience building, installing, and seeing my work on campus changed the course of my art career. As someone who grew up in rural poverty, public art captured my attention because it is free and accessible to everyone. It does not shut out the lower class, rather it occupies the outdoor public sidewalks, parks, and universities where an entire community can enjoy. Building public sculpture challenges me in a big way; it also requires specific facilities that are hard to come by on your own, which is why I feel fortunate to have attended two universities (SIUE and West Virginia University) that have both supported my exploration in public art. Revival is close to my heart because that’s when I fell in love with public art. I also developed a foundation of skills for fabrication and problem solving skills I continue to build upon today. And lastly but perhaps most importantly, Revival was the first major victory against my imposter syndrome, which I needed as a young artist.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

I’m a sculptor, printmaker, installation artist, and educator. I earned my Bachelor of Fine Arts in Sculpture from Southern Illinois University Edwardsville in 2021 and a Master of Arts from West Virginia University in 2022. I currently live and work in Morgantown, West Virginia, where I teach 3D Foundations at WVU.

I spent the first three years of my undergraduate education tiptoeing around my love for art, heeding career advice from well-meaning adults about the arts: “do you want to be broke forever?” “you should do graphic design, that’s marketable,” etc. I told myself I would just get a minor in studio art, not willing to leave it behind altogether. I spent time as a public relations major, then a year on the integrative studies path with the idea to merge public relations and art together. At some point toward the end of my third year, I realized I didn’t care that much about public relations, and I began hearing whispers of regret foreshadowing my future on that career path. All the while during my “art minor” days, I was discovering sculpture as a media and fell in love with it. Essential to this development were my mentors, Thad Duhigg & Jessica Hunt, and the community I found within the sculpture department. The sculpture studio at SIUE (pre-pandemic) was this hub for creative innovation and camaraderie, where you could spitball ideas and ask advice from your peers. I kept coming back every semester for more: casting, figure modeling, assembled form, advanced classes, I took everything I could get my hands on. After I finally gave in and embraced my path as an artist, I applied for Sculpture on Campus and built my first public work, Revival, and I was hooked for life.

My art practice has taken me to a lot of different realms, but public art is my long-term career vision. If you need a public sculpture, I’m your gal.

I have built and installed four public sculptures to date, including Revival, which I have since transported and installed in two different locations. Last summer I fabricated and installed the Unity Tree, a commission for a nature trail at Waynesburg University in Pennsylvania. This project was my first permanent sculpture commission, a huge milestone for me. My other public art engagements have been rotating temporary loans through cities and sculpture parks. Through contracts with Dogwood Arts in Knoxville TN, Scoville Sculpture Park in Decatur, IL, and Clear Lake Arts Center in Iowa, I’ve learned the logistics and technical side of transporting and installing public sculpture, which is something most people don’t think about when they see public art in their city.

What sets me apart is my drive to go big or go home. I mean go big literally and figuratively. Yes, my most recent public work is literally larger than my previous work at 14.5 feet, but it also demonstrates growth in my technical abilities and conceptual thinking. Each time I take on a bigger, more challenging project, I redraw my boundaries of possibility. My resiliency to adapt and overcome has proven itself stronger each time.

At any given time, usually the project I am most proud of is my most recent public sculpture. Right now, that’s Goodnight, shut up: The Sculpture, currently on view at Evansdale Campus at West Virginia University. This project was unlike my previous abstract public work. Building this 14.5-foot-tall bunkbed, with its legs angled slightly inward to exaggerate the illusion of height, was a feat of engineering that required meticulous planning and continuous problem solving. This sculpture was my thesis project for my Master of Arts degree at WVU, and it shows a notable shift in me and in my work: the older I get, the more I crave authentic connection with others. Everyone has a bunkbed story. For me, it’s become a symbol of my upbringing in poverty. For someone else, they might recall a night spend in jail, summer camp, their college dorm room, etc. This work allows me to share a piece of my history with those around me and hear their stories related to the all familiar bunkbed. I’m not just proud of this work, but I’m proud of the personal growth that has led me to it.

How can we best help foster a strong, supportive environment for artists and creatives?

What society can do to best support artists is to normalize paying artists for their work, and well. To non-creatives, that may sound confusing, but artists know this struggle firsthand. The trouble is that when you’re starting out as a young artist, you’re told you will have to do work pro-bono to establish yourself. While there’s some truth to that, the trouble is, no one seems to explain to you when and how much to start charging for your artistic services. No one is an artist for the money; we’re driven by our creative and activist values, to make an impact on the world with our work. And our society takes advantage of this, perpetuating the “starving artist” archetype. Non-creatives would be appalled at the rate of pay I’ve been offered for potential (very large) projects. Economic instability within the arts is the main reason most people leave the field. And with the cost of living and everything rising, burnout is at an all time high. The first step is investing in the arts; the second step is ensuring that money invested is actually making it into the hands of artists as adequate compensation for their work.

Have any books or other resources had a big impact on you?

The good news is this: there’s a mindset shift happening around money and the arts, and resources to help.

The Pilot Art List is one such resource, a project launched by a Canadian artist who compiles monthly lists of well-paid art calls, such as residencies, exhibitions, grants, and proposals. Her mission is to encourage artists to only apply to paid opportunities. I believe this movement has the potential to shift our economic culture surrounding the arts. If artists stop doing the free labor, the world will stop expecting their labor for free.

Another excellent resource is Hannah Cole’s Sunlight Tax podcast. She is an artist and tax-professional serving creative individuals with easy to understand practical tax and money advice for self-employed people. She has a great mindset around money for creatives. Money allows you the freedom to focus on your creative vision and better serve the world with your work. Money is power, and in the hands of artists, it makes the world a better place

Contact Info:

• Website: abbiruppert.com
• Instagram: abbiruppert
• Facebook: Abbi Ruppert