THE TWO ARTISTS CHAT ONLINE ABOUT GHOSTS, KNIVES, AND THE LIVING AFTERLIVES OF OBJECTS AND THEIR DUAL EXHIBITION IN A LIVING ROOM.

Emily Jane Kuntz: Last time we talked, we were both still in early stages of this show. Has your focus shifted since then?

Joshua McGarvey: Yeah, I’d say I pared things down a lot. The works are still built from collected and found parts, but instead of assembling whole objects, I’ve been dissecting pieces out of things I’d held onto. Like these antennas I found—dead stock for old radios. They were used in another project, but I couldn’t throw them away. I thought, eventually, they’ll find a place.

Emily Jane Kuntz: I get that. Sometimes the objects need to wait around for a while, or do other things before their next moment comes — materials with past lives waiting to be reassembled.

Joshua McGarvey: Some of what you said made me think of ghosts—these lingering presences in objects. Has that come up for you?

Emily Jane Kuntz: Definitely. I think any object that’s been around long enough carries death in it somehow. Some of my materials are from my grandparents. Others are thrifted or inherited. It’s not that my work is about death, but death is there as a layer in the history of things.

The starting point for this body of work was a glass collection that I photographed years ago. I ended up with these glasses after someone passed away and I felt the presence of the objects very strongly in my space, almost like a ghost. Those photos sparked the beginnings of this project and a larger conversation about how objects hold memory, even after their original owners are gone.

Joshua McGarvey:  I’ve been collecting these Victorian silver fruiting knives—delicate, ornate objects engraved with things like “To Mother.” They were designed so fruit wouldn’t oxidize. But knives also carry this history of violence and utility. I’m interested in that duality: beautiful decorative objects descended from weapons.

I always try to have something playful in my work, even if it’s just an inside joke that only I see. Objects often have this duality—you can look at them as funny, but they also hold a kind of seriousness. Humor has been part of my work too, even with heavy material.

Emily Jane Kuntz: You’ve been in Minneapolis a long time. How do you think the city shapes your work?

Joshua McGarvey: I moved here in 2012 and it’s become home. What I love about Minneapolis is the space it gives you—both literally and creatively. You can experiment here, you can fail forward without fear. There’s also arts funding and grants that make certain projects possible. The city has given me room to breathe as an artist.

Emily Jane Kuntz: That sounds really nice. I love Los Angeles and the creative communities there, but that aspect of space and financial support that you mention is a bit lacking. Especially now with the super high cost of living, which feels very much in opposition to a comfortable process of artmaking and experimentation. For me, coming to Minneapolis feels like a mystery—I don’t know it well, but that makes the experience of showing here feel fresh.

Emily Jane Kuntz: Looking ahead to Assembly of the Forgotten, what do you hope people feel when they enter the space?

Joshua McGarvey: I think there’s an intimacy to both of our practices—personal histories embedded in objects, humor intertwined with memory. In a setting like TELL, that intimacy will really resonate. I want people to feel that transformation: objects becoming alive, carrying stories bigger than themselves.