Textile work by Sue Ravitz; acrylic painting by Al Ravitz. Tucked into an attic-like space with high ceilings and a picture window, Sue Ravitz’s studio can only be entered by a steep and narrow set of stairs that requires a bit of effort to climb. At the top of this ascent, however, the reward is the color, texture, and loose geometry that fills Sue’s work. And the work, in turn, fills the room. Sue’s textiles, already glowing and vibrant, sing in the natural light and cover just about every available surface. They have a formal rigor that embraces repetition and harmonious palettes, but inherent in her process is a wobbliness that lets her compositions shimmer. Even her most angular pieces hum and move. The stitching and patterning in her largely improvised designs play off of one another like pieces of glass or stone tile in a Byzantine mosaic as each small, thoughtful part coalesces into a large, formidable whole. The intricacy of each one makes me wonder how she ever has time to run 57W57ARTS, her New York gallery. At times, Sue’s work playfully hints at a few of its domestic inspirations - blankets, hot pads, rugs - which are all things that do double duty as beautiful objects and hard working household items. When I was visiting there was a pile of finished squares in her studio that resembled trivets (see below), small crocheted martyrs ready and willing to protect the dining room table from scorching hot pans at dinner time. Upon closer inspection, they were segments of a large abstract grid waiting to be stitched together. This is just one of the things that I admire about Sue’s work - it doesn’t fit too neatly into any one genre and instead leans into its own quirky existence. Formal? Yes. Steeped in tradition and technique? Yes. Meticulous? You bet. But never is it dry and distant. Instead, its spirited beauty is almost begging to be simultaneously admired from afar and wrapped around the viewer while they sit in a comfortable chair. What finer way could there be to get to know it better? Al’s paintings, made in a studio separated from the main house by a bit of patio and a patch of grass, head full steam in an entirely different direction. Acrylic on panel, they embrace a form of burgeoning, organic abstraction that is very nearly low-relief sculpture. At times his paintings resemble large chromatic tongues drooping over the top of his supports, at others they look like glowing volcanic terrain that has hardened in place with hues intact. Al treats both acrylic paint and color with a blend of scientific inquiry and a generous amount of irreverence. In his hands materials and elements are things to be stress tested and taken to extremes. How thick can the paint get? How much of it can be piled up around the support? What if the painting goes in the oven for a bit? And what is the most unlikely, aesthetically challenged and visually charged color combination that one can make? It’s in this searching that his voice as an artist emerges. The unconventional beauty of his work is never the destination, but an unforeseen byproduct of a process that privileges exploration, the unconscious, and the simple act of making something. It’s no accident that Al has been a highly regarded clinical psychiatrist in New York for over 30 years. I’m thrilled to be able to share my interview with Sue and Al Ravitz below. - David Schell, 2026
Sue and Al Ravitz in their respective studios. The Semi-Finalist: Neither of you took traditional paths to becoming artists. Can you talk a little about how your creative lives got started? Sue: I began with everyday crafts from the time I was a little kid, but I was never exposed to fine art, e.g. Anni Albers or Sheila Hicks. And I was raised in a family that couldn’t conceive of anyone going to school to study that sort of thing. So it wasn’t until Al and I began collecting that I had any exposure to the concept of “art,” especially textile art. On the other hand, I’ve always been sensitive to visual experience; I just didn’t know how to say that. Al: A) I collected stuff – rocks, stamps, magazines, records – from early childhood. It gave me great pleasure to just “be” with my stuff. I was also into the way things looked. I can remember fighting with my mom about the clothes I wanted to wear as early as the second grade. As I got older, I kept collecting stuff. Then Sue and I began collecting “art.” Over time, our collecting became more focused. B) Over the last 10 years or so, I would doodle on the back of Rhodia notebooks I used to take clinical notes – there’s a piece of cardboard in front of the back cover. A few people – not patients – had a positive response to my doodles. I began painting at the beginning of the pandemic.  Above: One of Al's doodles in his studio. Below: Sue's stitched text from Proust.
S-F: I’m amazed that neither of you start your work with a strict plan, and maybe not even much of a guideline. But you both seem to revel in the union of structure and improvisation. With that in mind, tell me a bit about how your work comes into being. More to the point: what is your process? Sue: With my needle points I start out with a traditional pattern that I then try to alter in order to create a different visual result. My goal is to distort the pattern, utilizing variations of colors in a painterly way. I do the same with my chain stitches, which are influenced by the needle points , but they’re portable, so I can travel with them. As for planning, I can’t do it with pencil on paper, but I’m comfortable figuring it out with yarn, thread, and fabric. Sometimes I think I may work the way I do because of my lack of formal training. Al: Sometimes I have an idea, but most of the time I can’t realize it, so I just keep painting until I like what’s there.  Above: Sue in her studio. Below: a corner of Al's studio.  S-F: Al, this is a follow-up to question #2: I’m fascinated by the relationship between the interior and the exterior of your paintings. It’s almost like you’re making low relief sculptures. How did this exaggerated sense of form come about? Al: I've never seen my paintings that way, but now that you've mentioned it, yes, definitely concerned with physical volume. It’s not surprising that I love Alfred Jensen paintings. For at least the last 30 years, I’ve been interested in monochrome painting, and in that type of work, surface is a key component. There’s a huge difference between a red Marcia Hafif and a red Joseph Marioni. When I began painting, the first few were designs on a flat surface. For some reason, I decided to mix paint with modeling paste – probably to make the color flatter – and gradually surface, volume, and underpainting became more important.  A drooping form that is a recurring motif in Al's work. S-F: can you each talk about your relationship to technique and tradition in your work? What does it mean to embrace an existing method or, conversely, reject “best practices” altogether? Sue and Al: Neither of us – again, possibly due to a lack of formal training – consciously considers responses to technique and tradition; and neither of us is sufficiently aware of “best practices” to either embrace or reject them.  Above: Sue Below: Al  S-F: Sue, this is a follow-up to Question #4: You have such a deep and genuine feel for repetition and geometry in your textiles. Was it always there for you, or did it develop over time? Sue: Now that you've brought up geometry: yes, definitely, I've always been interested in geometry. Again, I didn't have a word for it. What's happened over the years is that I've utilized pattern to underlie a practice that's experimental in nature – that’s focused on evoking some type of sensory, non-verbal experience.  Four works by Sue Ravitz on her studio wall. S-F: You both have a strong relationship to color - talk about that. Sue and Al: We just became more comfortable with color over time – especially looking at ugly combinations. It’s been liberating.
Above: Two of Al's paintings in his studio. Below: Two of Sue's completed textiles.
S-F: One question that came up when I was visiting your home and studios was “what does it mean to make an artwork?” Sue and Al: Sue works all the time; she thinks it would be sinful to not be productive. Al likes to turn off the left side of his brain. Painting helps with that.
Left: Sue's trivet-like tiles. Right: A work by Al. S-F: In addition to the gallery space, you are both surrounded by work that you have collected over the last few decades. Can you both share a few thoughts on what it means to live with a personally curated collection in your home? Does it influence you? Are there other side effects - psychological or physical - of being around so much work? Sue and Al: Years ago, we looked at a Corona chair by Poul Volther at a store in LA. The salesman approached us. When we said we were interested in the chair, he said, “Sensitive people deserve beautiful things.” Of course it was a sales pitch, but it resonated. That’s been our philosophy ever since. Collecting is sort of a sickness for us. When we began, we had monthly gallery payments – art on the walls but not much furniture. Living with a bunch of stuff evokes certain cognitive and affective experiences for us. That’s good.  S-F: Who are you looking at (alive or dead)? Sue and Al: Way too many to name! Al subscribes to a newsletter that informs him whenever one of the 400 artists he follows – the list periodically changes – has work at auction or in a show. He’s found several amazing deals that way. Sue looks at art every day for 57W57arts. She ends up curating 40 or 50 little shows each year. That takes a lot of looking at art.  A finished piece by Sue. S-F: What’s next (shows, interviews, residencies, etc.)? Sue and Al: We actually have another Sue and Al show coming up in NYC at 201@105 on April 30th.
Left: a corner of Sue's studio. Right: a nook in Al's studio. You can see more work by Sue and Al Ravitz... - on Sue's instagram account: www.instagram.com/sueravitztextiles/?hl=en - Al does not use instagram, but #alravitz will bring up a fair number of images. - on Sue's website: www.sueravitz.com/portraiture - in an interview with John Mendelsohn on Art Spiel - you can see more of 57W57ARTS on instagram: https://www.instagram.com/57w57arts/ More Sue and Al:  Sue's studio.  Al in his studio.   Sue in her studio.  Comments are closed.
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