Fabrication, Compost, and Play for All: Designer Jen Reed on Why She’s Building Our New Favorite Playground 

How would you describe your practice?

I describe myself in practice as a manipulator of 3-D space. Let’s say I didn’t have a title – not artist, not architect, designer, none of those titles, I think that I was seeking out the ability to think of something and be able to make it. I wanted to shorten that gap between thought and my hands performing that thought, and that led me to fabrication. That also led me to building large-scale and small-scale using many different types of materials, so my practice is a manipulation of materials but the soul of that practice is shortening the gap between thought and fruition. 

How did your path lead you to fabrication & design?

If I look retrospectively, I can see it in my childhood but consciously, I moved to Los Angeles, made a group of friends that I bonded with naturally, and they liked to build all types of things. Some were puppeteers, some were architects, some were interior designers. Everyone had these different skill sets, but all of them were actively making things just for the sake of making them, not because they were hired to. In the company of those types of makers, I saw pathways because when growing up, financially, you have to think about what’s feasible for the life you want. With these people, no matter what job they were doing, they were always making something fun for fun’s sake. Meeting them in my early twenties was the birthplace of my practice and knowing them was a pathway for me.

_{(L) Construction of The Apple Core at The Box Shop; (R) Construction of The Apple Core (Photo Credit: Jordan Byrnes)}

For instance, a group of my friends wanted to get a warehouse and turn it into a place where we could do a puppet show, and that actually happened. In order to make that happen, we moved into a warehouse, split the rent, built bedrooms from scratch, and created a dwelling. A few months or a year later, we had an opera puppet show, and as ridiculous as that is, it worked! Being a part of a community that was able to facilitate and execute professional styles of creation on shoestring budgets just for fun gave me a quick download on how to get things done on a larger scale. 

What are the main themes you’re exploring through the work you’re creating now?

As someone who makes lots of different things, it’s kind of hard to narrow down and say I’m making this now. Currently, I have a project called the Compost Playground. I’m building a playground piece by piece that’s visually a compost pile — a lot of discarded fruit and vegetables, but at the scale where we can climb and play on it, so we can be the earthworms experiencing what it’s like to discover compost.

I chose that theme knowing that I’d have to be dedicated for a minimum of five to ten years to see it through, and I’ve never given that much of myself to my own work. I’ve done a lot of one-offs, I’ve done a lot of projects, and I’ve been hired by other artists. So, to be in the position where I don’t just leave something after six months and instead stay with it, I had to choose a subject that I knew I wouldn’t shy away from once I change, because I’m always growing and my opinions continue to evolve.

I was not scared, but definitely cautious about choosing a subject that I would change my mind about later, and compost, in my opinion, is an eternal truth. It’s something to explore our relationship with the land and food justice. A land back movement is not just the transfer of ownership; it’s the understanding of what the land is asking of us, having a relationship to it, and adding chores to our daily lives. Composting is a chore that is hard to integrate for people, so my work is interested in how we can build a relationship with a subject rather than feeling forced to complete a chore. If the subject matters, then it needs to be addressed over a long period of time. How do I get an adult to start composting? That’s tough. 

A land back movement is not just the transfer of ownership; it’s the understanding of what the land is asking of us, having a relationship to it, and adding chores to our daily lives. Composting is a chore that is hard to integrate for people, so my work is interested in how we can build a relationship with a subject rather than feeling forced to complete a chore.

You recently debuted The Apple Core, a surreal, climbable sculpture and the first piece of your Compost Playground project at this year’s Burning Man festival. Can you share more about The Compost Playground, how it came to life, and how it was received by the public?

I was eating lunch in 2018, and the leftovers — the compost I was about to get rid of — had some structure to it, so I took a picture. I hadn’t been to Burning Man in years at that time, but I knew if I went back, I would need to have a project. I didn’t want to go back as a spectator or participant, I wanted to be more involved. I care about art and the art out there is so inspiring. It seems like you’re breaking a lot of rules out there, but the people who also follow the rules, such as structural engineering rules, have some of the best work and I’ve always been interested in learning more about structures at that scale.

It had been a decade since I had been a part of an art build there and it’s a whole other level for me that I really enjoy. It’s a lot of hard work, but the rewards are worth it in my opinion. While working there, I met a group —  people who were artists, lawyers, fundraisers, fabricators, welders – everyone had a speciality. In this friend group, I expressed my interest in bringing in a piece, I created a proposal, and they all supported it in their own ways. Over the last two years of design and development, it was obvious that this was my year to go for it. There’s this grant that everyone applies for within the Burning Man organization called Honoraria and I applied for it twice. I didn’t get it either time, but at that point, I had so much momentum, and I knew I had to do it anyway. So I did this without the promise of the grant, and I put myself out there in February or March of this year. I let people know I was interested in seeing this through, shared my design and plan, and in a couple of months, I raised about $30,000. That’s how I was able to build it.

Once you completed your fundraise, what was the process for building it and how long did it take? 

Design and prep and drawings and structural, all of that was spread out over two years – so, I couldn’t even tell you how many hours everyone put into those two years. As soon as I started physically being present with the piece to build it, which means ordering steel pipes, cutting them to size, and making it all, that was two and a half months of build. I had a team, and my main team member, Jerry Wagley, was my welding lead. I had a few other people who led certain departments, but I was there every single day for two and a half months. 

_{(L) Construction of The Apple Core (Photo Credit: Jordan Byrnes); (R) Jen in The Apple Core (Photo Credit: DJ Soulara)}

I’ve definitely heard of Burning Man but I wasn’t aware of all of the art installations there – I always thought it was more of a music festival. What made Burning Man a favorable place to introduce the Compost Playground and The Apple Core more specifically? 

Burning Man is not a music festival. It has some of the worst music you might hear because everyone is playing music all the time. What it really is, and everyone can debate this, but I believe it’s an engineering art festival – I truly believe it’s the hub of fringe artwork. The reason why I believe it’s the best platform for scaling up is that there’s less red tape. We’re able to do large things quickly and not go through so many levels of bureaucracy just to get started or to get a permit. That said, I’m still held to structural engineering standards, I still have to make sure people are safe, and I still have to insure myself. All of that’s still true, but if you do something in a public space that’s governed, it’s damn near impossible to do anything new. I think that for any sculpture artist who’s interested in trying something, this is the best platform because they allow you to try, and if it were dangerous, they would not let it happen.

…children are the vehicle for anything new. With any new information, it’s the kids who have to decide if we’re going to keep it; teenagers and below shape every new generation. So how do I reach them? A playground is an obvious marrying of what my practice is and the audience I think I’m serving.

If there was anything I didn’t know or anything I didn’t have access to, Burning Man was a community of professionals that I had access to because I put myself out there and went for it. Some of the most genius people started joining me on my journey, and now I have access to these heavy hitters and an endless rolodex of professionals simply because I chose this platform. 

Once the work was installed and you saw people interacting with it, how was it received and were you pleased with the takeaway?

At first, I was not pleased about anything because for me, it’s not done. The work is not done. I have now completed one lap, and I’m fully aware of how many more laps I have to go to get to my vision. This was an amazing opportunity to fulfill my first large-scale work, but now I’ve got this fire under me, and all I see is everything else I want to do. It was difficult to be in the moment and appreciate what happened. I did start to enjoy it because the people I answered to, ARTery, my bureaucracy at Burning Man who decides if I’ve done the job well or not, told me I did a good job, then I was pleased. When they told me that my anchoring was safe and my engineering was sound, I was like, okay, I did my job and I’ve pleased my boss.

Last night, I rebuilt the piece and left it up at our shop. I work at The Box Shop in San Francisco, and it’s an iconic space where a bunch of makers gather. Last night, there was a huge party and everyone was climbing on it. There were way more kids here because they’re not always at Burning Man. There were tons of kids on it swinging with their full body weight and feeling safe to do so because of how strong, sound, and rooted it was. These kids were having a blast, and I didn’t have to explain it because they knew what to do with it. Their parents were just standing around watching them, and it felt so good to see it actually be what it was supposed to be – and it was in public! The ultimate goal isn’t to have “Burning Man art.” Burning Man is the place to plant the seed, whereas seeing it in public yesterday made me so happy! I really was staring as those people were having fun. 

It must’ve been great to see kids on it! I was wondering who this playground is for because anyone can use a playground and I feel that adults definitely need their own too, but I want to know if your project is more geared towards children or adults or is it for all ages?

My pieces are all ages. My goal is to be inclusive of everyone, and each one of my pieces will have interaction from the floor to the sky. If you’re a toddler, you’ll be able to interact with my piece in some way, and if you’re a grown man with your own children, you’ll have fun interacting with my piece too – it’s for everyone. I have designed each item specifically for kids because I want them to know it belongs to them. That’s why it’s whimsical, giant food because kids know that’s for them. But I want it to be big enough that an adult can get a thrill if they go to the top.

How do you envision the Compost Playground evolving over time?

Public spaces, being with the land, being on the ground, and using our bodies can’t be lost. Hopefully, I’ll get to be a part of that next wave when people go outside even more. 

In the full embodiment of when this entire championship is done and my whole playground is a giant compost pile, I really envision seeing people have access to it, to discover it in a public place, interact with it fully without being monitored, to feel the safety of their body weight on it, and to know that it belongs to them.

As I grew up, my mom did a good job of taking me to museums and parks, and those experiences really shaped me. I really love gorgeous, interactive public spaces and as you know, there’s all this conversation about the loss of the third space. Shopping malls were an important third space for me growing up, and I spent a lot of time there in junior high and high school. Going to the mall isn’t really happening anymore because kids have social media as a third place. Public spaces, being with the land, being on the ground, and using our bodies can’t be lost. Hopefully, I’ll get to be a part of that next wave when people go outside even more. 

Why do you think it’s important that design encourages movement, imagination, and play? 

Movement is a great first because the body is such an important part of this life experience we’re having. Having conversations with your body is so important for a fulfilled life and there are many ways to get moving. I know a lot of people love the gym, and I loved living in New York because I got to walk everywhere — that integration of movement is such a blessing of living there. Movement introduced to places that may not have it could really help with not only physical health, but also mental health. 

What do you enjoy doing in your free time when you’re not working on your practice? 

I really enjoy being in the presence of someone else’s work. I like shutting off the thought of my own work. I like going to museums, going into parks, and taking in all the spaces I want to contribute to. 

Who are some of your favorite artists?

I’m going to start with sculpture. My favorite sculptural artists at the moment would be Martin Puryear and Richard Serra. I love the gestures that Martin has captured, and I love the sheer mass of Richard Serra’s work and the insanity of his support systems.

My favorite performance artists are Marina Abramović and Oguri. Oguri is a butoh master – butoh is a dance developed in Japan. He’s based in California, and he hosts workshops every year called Flower of the Season. His work is very intense, similar to Marina Abramović’s, and it’s a slow, intentional movement – it’s very beautiful.

My favorite artists on the rise would be Austin Uzor, based out of Texas. He makes amazing paintings that capture my relationship to religion. The other would be Zulu Heru, a good friend based here in San Francisco. He makes a series of masks that are a deep study of African masks and spiritual understandings. He explores the true reasons these masks were made, scales them up, and teaches the value of this fine art which is usually stolen. 

What’s a career highlight that you’re proud of? 

The most proud I’ve been of a work is actually connected to a mutual friend we have. The owner of Jasmine’s Caribbean Cuisine had a second restaurant called S’Aimer, and she hired me to build her bar. I’m very proud of that final product – it is so beautiful! So far, it’s one of my favorite installations I’ve had anywhere. 

…sometimes our closest people can’t be here for this part, and it is kind of a sad experience. It can be lonely, but that’s not enough to stop the vision.

Where do you see yourself and your practice in the future?

In the near future, I see myself continuing to develop my projects that are open – such as the playground and some furniture work that I’m developing. In the long run, within the next five to ten years, I’m putting more effort into residencies. I did a residency in Taos, New Mexico this year, and for two months I was with the Olamina House. It was a reset of my nervous system and a gorgeous space where I spent time with the amazing, revolutionary artist Nikesha Breeze. That really lit a fire underneath me to pour into these residencies because being able to submerge yourself and develop work in a safe environment, not always with a stipend that can change your life, but enough to live and do your work for an extended amount of time, I now understand the value of that. Over the next ten years, I hope to throw myself into new environments and build site-specific pieces. 

Can you leave some parting advice for artists?

If you’ve read the The Four Agreements, great – read it again. Nothing is personal, even when you think it is. No matter who with their best intentions told me they would be a part of my journey that wasn’t able to make it this far, it’s not because they didn’t want to; and even if they didn’t want to, it doesn’t matter. We want to take people with us because of how we feel about them, and I’ve learned that as I’ve developed my vision for my life, I don’t get to decide who’s also ready to be there. I think that stops a lot of artists from moving forward – the fear of what they might lose, and I’m here to say that it’s not a loss – it’s just the natural flow of things. So many people tried to help me, but they just couldn’t be there when I thought they would be, and my ability to not hold them to an unfair standard is why we still get to love each other. You don’t have to lose everything.

For instance, a good friend of mine shot a film, put himself out there, crowdfunded, and he expressed to me that nobody in his family donated. I think that’s a great example of how sometimes our closest people can’t be here for this part, and it is kind of a sad experience. It can be lonely, but that’s not enough to stop the vision. Going through the vision means it’s not personal, we still love each other, and I’ll see you soon. 

That’s really strong advice. Even for me, for most of this year, I had to reprogram my mind and recognize that the way people treat you and show up for you is typically not about you; it’s about their capacity to meet themselves and I shouldn’t take it as personally as I once did.

I’m a sensitive flower and I’m a crier; that’s how I process. I’m on both ends of the spectrum, but now that I’m in the driver’s seat of creating my own life, I’ve learned so much about my expectations of others. I’ve had a few friends that I’ve had to reprogram my agreement with as we’re both changing. Sometimes it’s about money, which is even harder not to take personally — I did a job in exchange for money I didn’t get. These things can feel very personal, but if I held on to them, they would’ve poisoned my ability to get where I am right now. 

This interview with Jen Reed has been edited for length and clarity.

I saw a piece at Burning Man this year, and it was the best

understanding I could have ever had about frequency. Unfortunately, if I try to describe it with words, I’m not going to do it justice, but someone taught me a lot about physics and the science behind sd and water through their art project. It took me away, and it was so beautiful – it’s called The United Time Travel and Plumbing Services, and it was inside a box truck. What’s great about Burning Man is getting access to things like this before anyone else can see th