The artist reflects on family histories, found objects, and reimagining monumentality at the Smithsonian American Art Museum.
Installation view. Image Courtesy of Smithsonian American Art Museum. Photos by Ron Blunt.
In ‘Mammoth’, Nick Cave turns toward the landscapes and familial rituals that shaped his upbringing in Missouri, transforming personal memory into a monumental installation at the Smithsonian American Art Museum. The exhibition, conceived as the institution’s largest single-artist commission, brings together thousands of objects, immersive environments, and community-driven performance to explore how histories are made, lost, and rediscovered. Speaking with Suzette Bell-Roberts, Cave reflects on inheritance, the symbolic resonance of the mammoth, and how everyday acts of making, from quilting to music, scale into a powerful meditation on memory, endurance, and collective belonging.
Suzette Bell-Roberts: In ‘Mammoth’, you return to the landscapes of your upbringing in Missouri. How did this return reshape your understanding of origin, inheritance, and the narratives held within everyday objects?
Nick Cave: I approached ‘Mammoth’ as a deep dive into how I was made, which really helped me understand that my family worked hard to enjoy the fruit of their labour. For them, they would come home, and, after dinner, find craft outlets and ways to be creative as makers in different capacities. It was always fascinating to me that every evening they would pull out a quilt or be painting or working in the garage, building something. It was interesting to see what brought them joy and settled them, but it also helped me understand that it was a way to wind down and create balance.
Installation view. Image Courtesy of Smithsonian American Art Museum. Photos by Ron Blunt.
As the Smithsonian American Art Museum’s largest single artist commission, how did you approach inscribing personal memory into an institution that shapes national narratives?
Thinking about the Smithsonian American Art Museum and this being the museum’s largest single-artist commission led me to reflect on the role of destination. It’s nice to come to D.C., where many institutions are free, and everyone has access to them. I wanted to create an offering of sorts where you could come to ‘Mammoth’ and see A Lit History, a large, illuminated table with thousands and thousands of objects, both made and handmade, with an entry point for everyone. I wanted it to be this hub, where you could find yourself talking with the stranger next to you about something within that collection of objects that brought you back to a particular place in time.
Nick Cave in his studio. Images courtesy of the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery. Photos by James Prinz.
The mammoth operates as both form and metaphor. How does this extinct yet mythic figure speak to erasure, endurance, and the afterlife of contested histories?
The Smithsonian has been dealing with quite a bit regarding the erasure of history. But is history ever erased? That’s the question that I pose. Mammoth also spoke in that same form: we continue to find and dig up these bones, so it was interesting to bring these two parallels together. I was interested in the idea of lost memory, lost history, yet history that’s resurfacing, and using “mammoth,” the form, as a way of carrying history forward.
Installation view. Image Courtesy of Smithsonian American Art Museum. Photos by Ron Blunt.
Your use of found materials carries traces of labour and lived experience. How do you navigate the threshold between intimacy and monumentality?
I think, with lived history, there is a sense of abundance, and it connects with the found objects in our lives. That really is the heart of the exhibition. For me, it’s about my family – I come from vocalists, musicians, quilters, seamstresses, painters, and all these small influences multiply and become mammoth in scale. History operates the same way. It’s made up of these small, intricate, sensitive objects that evoke memory and a nostalgic sort of history. It’s like a time capsule that brings us back to the past yet forward into the future.
Nick Cave in his studio. Images courtesy of the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery. Photos by James Prinz.
‘Mammoth’ holds nostalgia and reckoning in tension. How do you sustain tenderness and critique within the same visual field?
How I retain tenderness and sensitivity is really through inclusion. The conclusion of this exhibition will be a performance for which I will work solely with the community in D.C., including musicians, vocalists, movers, and dancers. Part of my work is civic and is built on a civic foundation. I think a lot about what my role is in shifting how we collectively live together. Through this performance work, I’m able to do that. I’m able to work across all spectrums. Therefore, the audience that comes also looks different.
Installation view. Image Courtesy of Smithsonian American Art Museum. Photos by Ron Blunt.
Where the body is implied rather than visible, how does protection function conceptually and spatially?
Because I also come from a dance background, I’m always thinking about the body in space. Creating how the body moves within the installation is a critical part of my decision-making in designing the show. I’m interested in the entry point to an exhibition. Where do I want moments when the body is at a standstill, contemplating? So I’m thinking about how movement is halted by an image, and about the flow and composition of an exhibition’s layout.
Installation view. Image Courtesy of Smithsonian American Art Museum. Photos by Ron Blunt.
In a moment of contested monuments, how does ‘Mammoth’ reimagine monumentality through memory, accumulation, and survival?
It’s interesting, this invitation was introduced to me about seven years ago. Who knew that we would be in this moment right now, at this time? It’s a question that I wonder about: why me right now? But why not me right now? I approached it by coming to the work with conviction, standing in my truth, and not allowing anything to influence how I proceed. There are no sacrifices, there is no altering of my practice or the outcome of my exhibition. There were around 600 people at the opening, and I wasn’t even thinking about the work itself. I was more interested in what brings us together collectively in these moments when it’s so critical to consider how we stand collectively together, and why? For me to see the power of art, stand my ground, and be supported was really everything.
The exhibition is on view at the Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C., until January 3, 2027.
