Andrew Mehall is a Master of Fine Arts candidate at The Ohio State University whose work meditates on our relationships with technology, memory, and authorship. Constructed from found objects and AI-generated visuals, his art evokes an uncanny sense of familiarity. Mehall’s work is a part of Desire Lines, a group exhibition on view at Urban Arts Space until March 15, 2025. 

Your piece is made up of found objects. What was the process like for collecting them? 

I suppose the process was similar to how any person collects things over time. Some objects I sought out specifically, with some concept of what I was looking for, and found a close approximation of that or found something else compelling in a different way than what I originally had in mind. Some objects were things I found at my parents’ house, things that were important to me at one point and somehow survived being thrown away or garage sale’d or pilfered by a relative. It reminds me of how strange and kind of unstable a place like my parents' house is, in relation to the life I constructed there over time and what remains. There are almost no remains of art objects or paintings or drawings, but my pokemon cards, nintendo 64 games, or even an aol free trial cd (true story) somehow evade being deemed trash. So the process is cool and weird and exciting, and sometimes sad. It's like being in a thrift store of your life. 

What does the boundary between creation and collection mean to you?

I’m not so sure about this one. Making things is fun, but I get just as excited when I stumble upon a thing that I don’t have to manipulate or have some physical or narrative intervention with. A thing that kind of radiates on its own, which of course all things do, but some things a bit more to me. 
 

How does the relationship between memory and the digital age shape your work?

I’m getting better, but I have always been a pretty fearful, avoidant person. I’d rather not look at photos of my dog who has died, and sort of forfeit the potential activation of fond memories in fear of the activation of sadness or regret or just some other raw bad feeling. I know this isn’t healthy, and I am kind of in awe of people who have houses full of pictures of dead relatives and pets. I’ve always been a close-the-bedroom-door-after-your-kid-dies-and-never-go-back-in-there kind of person. It sucks to admit these things. But I’m getting better as I get older. The “digital age” presents more challenges for that fearful person, more chance of coming upon an old photo on your phone equals higher chance of your fragile reality coming apart. I’m getting better maybe because of that, because memories are everywhere. Something I think about too is this irony that the older you get, the closer you get to death, which is on a parallel sequence to the advancement in technology. It's always been that way for humans. I’m not sure what that means, but I think it means something. 

In your exhibition statement, you reference Serj Tankian of System of a Down. Who else has inspired you as an artist?

So many people. Duchamp, God, etc.