Raque Ford is Brooklyn-based artist whose work uses, among other materials, reflective acrylic, transparent Mylar, welded steel chains, and laser-cut text. Her gallery Greene Naftali says that her art “troubles the line between painting and sculpture.” This year, as part of her art practice, Ford has made not one but three checkered plexiglass dancefloors, for three separate venues. I wanted to know more about these floors, and I wanted to know about what kind of music she was listening to in the studio when she was working on them.
I saw that you made a dancefloor recently?
Yeah, I made three, but one didn’t work, because it was outside of PS1 and I didn’t think about how hot it was, and it all warped and melted. And then I made one in Chicago at this space called Good Weather in February. There’s one up right now at BRIC for this show about 50 Years of Hip-Hop.
Your father has a lot of history in hip-hop production. He co-wrote and produced “The Breaks” by Kurtis Blow.
Yeah, I guess the curator didn’t know that when she asked me to be in the show. But it was nice to mention him.
What were you listening to when you were making these things? Were you in a dancey mood?
I was probably listening to Lana Del Rey, honestly. I also liked to listen to this radio show by Ayanna Heaven—Across 110th St.
Did you do any sort of dance events with the floor in Chicago?
Yeah, it was up for ten weeks, so there were events staggered throughout the whole show. Then afterwards, the dancefloor had all these scratches and marks. I [then deconstructed the floor and] made 16 different pieces, wall works—where they broke or whatever was left behind, that was the work at the end.
Do you go out dancing much in New York?
I used to. I guess I haven’t recently. I was going to go to this Halloween party at Sugar Hill, but I didn’t go. I’m kind of sad I didn’t. But I really like Sugar Hill. They have a light-up dancefloor there, a really small one.
So you’re not an active clubber.
No, not so much anymore.
That was maybe more in the past, and now you are inspired by it, living in New York?
Yeah, definitely. I’ve always wanted to make a dancefloor here, so that I could actually have a party. It’s been a good learning experience, doing these three floors, because it’s kind of complicated—to make it and make sure it can hold all these people and still stay together. The one in Chicago, it worked, but all the cut-out letters on the dancefloor kept bouncing out when people jumped around. Everyone was really drunk and collecting the letters afterward, so I could put them back the next morning.
That’s funny.
I want to do it again, but I want to have more control over who I want to perform and the music. Throwing the party is a lot more complicated—usually I’m just thinking about making the art.
Were you inspired by any dancefloors in particular?
The idea for the dancefloor came from a friend’s story about a party in Mexico City. Everyone was partying, but the floor broke, and then somebody came out with another sheet of drywall and put it down and everyone kept dancing. I liked this idea of a kind of dancefloor that is always changing.
Are there waves of studio listening activity for you?
I’ve been listening to the Britney Spears autobiography, and now I’m just listening to Britney Spears. I don’t know, I feel like everyone’s been talking about her and her conservatorship, and they forget that she is a huge pop star. I’m so happy that she’s not in that anymore, and relistening to her music, I’m like, Whoa. The Blackout album, that’s so good—I mean, I knew, but I hadn’t heard it in so long.