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Susan Hensel (b. 1950, Ithaca, NY) is a multidisciplinary artist whose sculptural textile work merges digital and manual embroidery techniques with mixed-media practices. Her work investigates the interplay between light and material structure, with a particular focus on the optical properties of triangular embroidery thread. Conceptually, Hensel’s practice engages with the emotional and ecological dimensions of climate change, creating contemplative spaces that invite reflection and the imagining of restorative futures.
Hensel holds a BFA from the University of Michigan (1972). The artist participated in over 360 exhibitions, including more than 50 solo shows. In addition to her exhibitions across the United States, her work was exhibited in Mexico, Germany, Korea, Ukraine, and Kazakhstan. Susan’s work was recognized with over 20 awards and supported by grants from the Jerome Foundation, the Minnesota State Arts Board, and Art to Change the World. She attended residencies at the Ragdale Foundation and the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts.
Her scheduled exhibitions in 2025 include solo presentations in Bemidji, MN, and Ames, IA, as well as group exhibitions in Ukraine, with the Textile Study Group of New York, and Artburst.com. Hensel’s work is held in over 30 public collections, including the Museum of Modern Art (NY), the Getty Research Institute, and the Garrett Museum of Art. Her artist book archives are housed at the University of Washington Libraries in Seattle. She lives and works in Burnsville, Minnesota.
Hensel holds a BFA from the University of Michigan (1972). The artist participated in over 360 exhibitions, including more than 50 solo shows. In addition to her exhibitions across the United States, her work was exhibited in Mexico, Germany, Korea, Ukraine, and Kazakhstan. Susan’s work was recognized with over 20 awards and supported by grants from the Jerome Foundation, the Minnesota State Arts Board, and Art to Change the World. She attended residencies at the Ragdale Foundation and the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts.
Her scheduled exhibitions in 2025 include solo presentations in Bemidji, MN, and Ames, IA, as well as group exhibitions in Ukraine, with the Textile Study Group of New York, and Artburst.com. Hensel’s work is held in over 30 public collections, including the Museum of Modern Art (NY), the Getty Research Institute, and the Garrett Museum of Art. Her artist book archives are housed at the University of Washington Libraries in Seattle. She lives and works in Burnsville, Minnesota.
Published on March 2nd, 2026. Artist responses collected in months previous.
Was pursuing your creative work a calling for you? How do you define calling within your practice? Share a concise definition and a moment when this felt most true.
I finally felt comfortable defining my practice as a calling about 15 or 20 years ago. Why? I am a person of faith and am comfortable with the idea of " a calling" in the practice of a minister, who is supposed to be "called by God" to serve their parishioners. I eventually realized that somehow I was made to make and exhibit art. Art production was as essential as breathing. So, I began, hesitantly at first, to use that language. My life is defined by my studio practice. The artwork helps me process my life and has larger meaning that needs to be shared...it needs to proselytize for the essential role of beauty in making us responsibly human.
What does a successful career in the arts look like to you today? Describe how you measure success now and note any shifts from earlier in your career.
I am in transition regarding how I think about this question. For years, I have measured success by my ability to get exhibitions so that my art could communicate with the world. I did not measure by how much money it made for me—I would have starved if I had! I still believe that an artwork is not finished until it is shown, whether to a friend or a mass of people. But now, as I look at my estate, I wonder if there are other factors I need to think about. Ideally, when I die, my life's work will have some intrinsic worth so that people will agree that preserving it is a good idea. That worth does not need to be financial, but it will take money and willing people to protect my history. So, now I am looking for places to donate my work and commercial representation to support the preservation. Dang! Money has nothing to do with the purpose of the work!
How are you kind to yourself in your art practice? (Include one or two concrete examples such as boundaries, rest, or studio routines.)
I always take one day off a week, whether I want to or not. It can be uncomfortable, but I resume the next day with a fresh mind. I also take care of my aging body, getting my exercise every day. I am pretty constantly in physical therapy, so I do those exercises. Depending on where my mobility and pain level reside on any given day, I walk the dog, use the treadmill, or ride my stationary bike. Getting some aerobic exercise is essential to my brain's operation! And, of course, as good a night's sleep as this aging body allows.
What impact do you hope your work has on others? Name the response you hope to spark and who you most want to reach.
I sincerely hope that people are, first, stopped in their tracks by the peculiar beauty of the threads. Second, that they stay a while trying to figure out how it was done. Third,they have their breathing and pulse slow down from the experience. Fourth,notice the change and wonder how it has happened. Fifth, look at the title and consider what this artwork might be inviting them to experience. Sixth, consider if there is a call to action.
Do you have any rituals or spiritual practices that you integrate into your daily life as an artist? If relevant, mention frequency, timing, or how the practice supports your work.
I stick to a schedule. I go to the studio to work every day, six days a week. Also, not necessarily daily, I pray, meditate, and journal. Meditation has become increasingly important to manage pain and to empty my mind of useless rumination. It always refreshes me. Journaling makes any worry seem external. I can also use the journal to keep track of ideas and goals, too. I used to do that in sketchbooks, but I do it more frequently in the journal now. I think of it as the studio brain.
Was pursuing your creative work a calling for you? How do you define calling within your practice? Share a concise definition and a moment when this felt most true.
I finally felt comfortable defining my practice as a calling about 15 or 20 years ago. Why? I am a person of faith and am comfortable with the idea of " a calling" in the practice of a minister, who is supposed to be "called by God" to serve their parishioners. I eventually realized that somehow I was made to make and exhibit art. Art production was as essential as breathing. So, I began, hesitantly at first, to use that language. My life is defined by my studio practice. The artwork helps me process my life and has larger meaning that needs to be shared...it needs to proselytize for the essential role of beauty in making us responsibly human.
What does a successful career in the arts look like to you today? Describe how you measure success now and note any shifts from earlier in your career.
I am in transition regarding how I think about this question. For years, I have measured success by my ability to get exhibitions so that my art could communicate with the world. I did not measure by how much money it made for me—I would have starved if I had! I still believe that an artwork is not finished until it is shown, whether to a friend or a mass of people. But now, as I look at my estate, I wonder if there are other factors I need to think about. Ideally, when I die, my life's work will have some intrinsic worth so that people will agree that preserving it is a good idea. That worth does not need to be financial, but it will take money and willing people to protect my history. So, now I am looking for places to donate my work and commercial representation to support the preservation. Dang! Money has nothing to do with the purpose of the work!
How are you kind to yourself in your art practice? (Include one or two concrete examples such as boundaries, rest, or studio routines.)
I always take one day off a week, whether I want to or not. It can be uncomfortable, but I resume the next day with a fresh mind. I also take care of my aging body, getting my exercise every day. I am pretty constantly in physical therapy, so I do those exercises. Depending on where my mobility and pain level reside on any given day, I walk the dog, use the treadmill, or ride my stationary bike. Getting some aerobic exercise is essential to my brain's operation! And, of course, as good a night's sleep as this aging body allows.
What impact do you hope your work has on others? Name the response you hope to spark and who you most want to reach.
I sincerely hope that people are, first, stopped in their tracks by the peculiar beauty of the threads. Second, that they stay a while trying to figure out how it was done. Third,they have their breathing and pulse slow down from the experience. Fourth,notice the change and wonder how it has happened. Fifth, look at the title and consider what this artwork might be inviting them to experience. Sixth, consider if there is a call to action.
Do you have any rituals or spiritual practices that you integrate into your daily life as an artist? If relevant, mention frequency, timing, or how the practice supports your work.
I stick to a schedule. I go to the studio to work every day, six days a week. Also, not necessarily daily, I pray, meditate, and journal. Meditation has become increasingly important to manage pain and to empty my mind of useless rumination. It always refreshes me. Journaling makes any worry seem external. I can also use the journal to keep track of ideas and goals, too. I used to do that in sketchbooks, but I do it more frequently in the journal now. I think of it as the studio brain.
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