NYC's JJ Hammond Explains Her Art Practice to Artist Marcarson

JJ Hammond, with one of her mixed media sculptures. New York, NY, 2025

By MARCARSON May 26, 2025

New York artist JJ Hammond walks me—artist Marcarson—through her latest work, and I’m struck by both the raw energy of the pieces and the wild, unexpected materials she uses.

From varied materials, each element carries weight—emotional, symbolic, or historical. “I’m mapping the emotional residue of the city,” she tells me, “not just making objects.” What first looks chaotic reveals itself as deeply intentional. Her process feels like excavation—intuitive, performative, and charged with a kind of psychic urgency. As an artist, I’m drawn not just to the final forms, but to the fearless way she builds them.
 

If your inner child walked into one of your shows, do you think they’d laugh, cry, or just stare and slowly back out of the room?

If mine walked in, she’d pause, stare in awe, grab a crayon, and start drawing on the wall around the artwork. I would always draw, whether on tables at restaurants or (a little too often) on my parents’ walls. However, as a kid, I was obsessed with Monster High dolls. I had the full collection and an entire dollhouse, but I never played with them. I kept everything perfectly arranged, untouched. I was an observer, I loved to look at details and the perfect placement. So maybe that’s why I play with toys now, but still keep that organized placement with each of my art pieces.

If your most vivid childhood memory had a smell, what would it be — Play-Doh, wet carpet, or something more cursed?

My grandmother’s perfume—I feel so old now at such a young age. I grew up too fast. That scent clung to me as a child, and I remember always wanting to be older, constantly wondering what I’d look like or who I’d become. Back then, it smelled old to me—like years of unwashed knitted sweaters. Of course, it didn’t actually smell that way, but that’s how my young mind interpreted it. Now, it’s a memory I cherish. It takes me back to summers in Germany. Maybe it was the thrill of imagining all that life had ahead of me… mixed with the quiet fear of what it means to grow older.
 

JJ Hammond, mixed media sculpture
 

You’ve bounced around a few countries. Which place surprised you most in how it messed with your creativity, in a good or chaotic way?

Miami is where it all started. Sometimes it feels like my childhood in Asia never even happened—like a forgotten scene from someone else’s life. But when I moved to Miami at 12—arguably the worst age to exist—everything changed. It was a chaotic time: growing up too fast, surrounded by bad influences, and making impulsive choices. But somehow, through all of that, I found my creative side.

I became obsessed with the idea of love, though looking back, I had no real understanding of it, just a fantasy. I was constantly drawing and painting bodies, with thermal heat patterns, onto things like speed limit signs. It was my way of processing the boys I thought had broken my heart. It was dramatic and probably a bit delusional, but it felt real at the time. And alongside that, I was already building sculptures out of toys.

Being a teenager means feeling everything all at once. For me, it was this desperate urgency to grow up, to find who I was as quickly as possible. My biggest fear was living a life without passion. Luckily, passion found me, and I’ve held onto it ever since.
 

JJ Hammond, mixed media sculpture
 

Have you ever used a found object in your work that had such a weird or intense history it kind of hijacked the whole piece?

I only use found objects or toys that have been donated to me—I want them to carry energy, to hold a history from the people they came from. New toys feel empty to me, like they have no soul. So technically, every piece I use already has a past.

But within those symbols of childhood, I intentionally hide fragments of adulthood—bullet casings, birth control pills, pill bottles, money…etc. Because while my work is about reconnecting with your inner child and remembering who you were, it also acknowledges the reality: we’re still adults, navigating a chaotic world. That tension—between innocence and experience—is what makes the work honest.
 

JJ Hammond, mixed media sculpture
 

If one of your artworks came to life, which one would throw the weirdest house party — and what would it serve for drinks?

So I had the craziest dream about this… my Simulated Minds sculpture came to life—and instead of offering me a drink, it tried to kill me, haha. I just finished a new piece called Rest—a baby peacefully sleeping—and honestly, I feel like that one would throw the wildest party. Sometimes the most peaceful-looking people are the ones who party the hardest. I imagine it serving dirty Shirley Temples with tiny white umbrellas… or maybe jello shots.

Say you could drop one of your pieces into a different time period — which one, and do you think they’d burn it, worship it, or just get really confused?

The future. I imagine one of my pieces having AI that’s being used in therapy—something designed to help people understand their problems without the bias or personal opinions that some therapists might bring. I think society would either worship it for helping so many people… or reject it entirely, claiming it could never truly understand what it feels like to be human.

What would your subconscious write to you on a Post-it note left on your bathroom mirror? Bonus points if it’s passive-aggressive.

Everything’s gonna work out. Stop overthinking and just make art, be happy, and have fun.

If you built a playground based on your work, what would be the thing that definitely gets banned by health & safety in the first week?

I designed a playground just for fun—it had “Swing Sparks,” with a giant version of my signature Spark piece on the side. It would get banned for too many sharp edges. WM