Photo by Kate Hassett
Libby Evan is a disabled artist, researcher, and activist. Originally from Albany, NY, she now resides in Chicago, IL. She is currently a PhD student in Disability Studies at the University of Illinois, Chicago. In 2024, she earned her MFA in Fiber and Material Studies at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She holds a BFA in Studio Art from Washington University in St. Louis, The Sam Fox School of Design and Visual Arts. Evan’s art practice and research focuses on her experiences of having invisible disabilities as she breaks down the facade of being okay on the outside but not so much on the inside. Previous exhibitions include Graduate Exhibition Two at the SAIC galleries, Voices Embodied IV and IV at the Design Museum of Chicago, The Full Light of Day at VAE in Raleigh, and Connected: VSA Emerging Young Artists Exhibition. In 2019, she was awarded an Award of Excellence for emerging young artists with disabilities at the Kennedy Center. In 2021, Evan was featured in Home Sick, an international juried exhibition in Poughkeepsie where she was awarded second prize.
Artist Statement
I am stuffed with poly-fil– held together with sloppy stitches. Often, slanted, bold text runs over me shouting at viewers in a soft material that cushions any blows. At first, I am funny and fast and then something else underneath lingers. Maybe there is more to this quick wit afterall.
My soft sculpture world encapsulates all my triumphs, frustrations, absurdities, and strange moments of joy. The sculptures lean because I lean. They are oddly feminine, lumpy, and disabling– yet huggable. My seven foot tall Pineapple is an ode to temporality. It started out as a monument to my dead pet fish who was crushed under a plastic pineapple in his tank. But now, it is a reflection of my disabled body. Like my sculptures, I defy gravity with sheer force of will until I give in and revert to a pile of poly-fil.
In moments of strife exist the greatest potential for joy and humor. My work and I reside permanently on the thin lines between joy and sadness and humor and anger. My disabled body guides my work as I discover time and time again that the most personal is the most universal.