ArtIsUnity

Eric Drooker

THEN:

“The year was 1967 and I was an eight-year-old boy riding the crosstown bus with my mother.

“The bus stopped on Avenue A, and a man with black-rimmed glasses and a big black beard entered alone and sat down in front of us.

“My mother leaned over and whispered in my ear that the man in front of us was a famous poet.

“I didn’t know what to think. What did a famous poet do all day…write poems?”

— Eric Drooker, from Prologue to Illuminated Poems, Allen Ginsberg, Eric Drooker

 

“I first glimpsed Eric Drooker’s odd name on posters pasted on fire alarms sides, construction walls checkered with advertisements, & lamppost junction boxes in the vortex of Lower East Side Avenues leading to Tompkins Square Park, where radical social dislocation mixed homeless plastic tents with Wigstock transvestite dress-up anniversaries, Rastas sitting on benches sharing spliff, kids with purple Mohawks,… Eric Drooker’s numerous block print-like posters announced much local action, especially squatters’ struggles and…”  —Allen Ginsberg, from Introduction to Illuminated Poems, Allen Ginsberg, Eric Drooker

 

 

and NOW,  

as the beat goes on…

Eric Drooker, who Art Is Unity’s Carletta Joy Walker met while producing radio for Pacifica, Wbai radio in New York City, has completed another graphic novel (Naked City, coming out in October); he is carrying on with his vibrant art in what I think of as a conversation with what is happening on our streets, doing covers for the New Yorker magazine, and also playing his banjo while living in the SF Bay area.

 

 

 

Eric Drooker in Art Is Unity Gallery and at DROOKER.

Art Is Unity Interviews Jonah Winter

I’ve always been uncomfortable calling myself anything… except for “Jonah Winter.” And I’m not entirely sure why. I guess I think the point of life is to do what you do and let other people put a label on it. I think I probably also absorbed a certain ethic from both of my artist-parents, neither of whom have ever been very fond of calling themselves “artists,” though they have been painting and drawing since they were little children. When I left my full-time job as an editor in 1991 and became a freelancer, I spent most of my time playing music (for money), writing (some of it for money), editing (for money), and reading (obviously not for money). The times I wasn’t doing those things, I was cooking or exercising.

Your first books, Fair Ball and Beisbol!, talk about writing, illustrating, and having them published.

My first book was Diego – a picture book biography about Diego Rivera. But Fair Ball: 14 Great Stars from Baseball’s Negro Leagues was my 2^nd book, and Beisbol! came out not long after that. I did loads and loads and loads of research – none of it involving the internet, because I did not yet own a computer or use the internet when I wrote them.  So, I used books from the library for the first one (which I wrote in the early 90s, Fair Ball) – because I was too poor to purchase the books.  By the time I was researching Beisbol!, in the late 90s, I lived in the Maine woods and had enough money to buy books at that point, books that I still own.  When researching Fair Ball, I took a road trip (from San Francisco, where I was living) to Kansas City, to visit the newly opened Negro Leagues Museum.  I believe it is now a much larger museum than it was then, in 1994, when I visited it.

What prompted your first books?

I was prompted to write these books by two things – my lifelong obsessions with baseball and racial injustice. Through this topic – the “Negro Leagues” – I found a perfect outlet for a nonfiction topic I wanted to share with children through my books.  As far as the illustrations go, I wanted them to look like old-fashioned baseball cards. I was a baseball-card-collecting maniac as a kid (I still have all my cards – from the late 60s and early 70s), and I’ve always loved the look of the really old cards, some of which were paintings and others of which were tinted photographs.  I was flabbergasted by the fact that the Negro Leagues players, aside from the horrific racist indignities they endured simply by being barred from the Major Leagues because of their ethnicity, never had baseball cards made of them.

I decided to paint the portraits of them in the style of old-fashioned baseball cards – tinted photographs – to give them the cards they so deserved but never had during their careers.  It was rather audacious of me to think I could do this and get it published.   I had never studied art – well, except for one summer with my father, who was an art professor.  Both of my parents are artists, and I was surrounded by art during my entire childhood – and created a lot of it myself. But the stuff I had created was NOT in the photo-realist style I used with these baseball paintings!

That was a real challenge.  I photocopied black and white photos from library books for my source material.  And I used a tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny paintbrush with only 3 or 4 hairs on it (“OOOO”).  And in the process of making these portraits, which I would spend 12-to-15 hours a day on, hunched over my drawing table, I probably did permanent damage to my eyes. I would have to go soak my painting hand in ice water because of how cramped it got.  A labor of love!

When did you know you could quit your day job?

I quit my day job in December of 1991, a couple months after the publication of my first book, Diego. I did not “know” I could quit my job – I just hauled off and did it.   It was kind of crazy, I guess, for me to assume I could support myself on royalties and freelance work. But here it is, 32 years later, and that’s how I’ve supported myself since I quit my job.  My day job, by the way, was as an associate editor at Random House.  I made barely enough money to pay the rent for my rent-controlled apartment.  I don’t know what publishing salaries are like now, but they were abysmal back when I worked in publishing. My first publishing job, in 1984, as an editorial assistant at Knopf, paid less than $12K a year. I quit that job and went off to graduate school (in creative writing) for 3 years, then came back in 1988 and basically got my old job back – but as an assistant editor. I can’t remember what my salary was then, but it wasn’t much.

My last birthday spent at Random House, I did not have enough money to buy lunch for myself (it was a couple days till my next paycheck). And so one of my officemates gave me her bag of dried wonton noodles from her hot & sour soup, and that, with some duck sauce and mustard, was my birthday lunch. I think that may have been the day I started plotting my escape. I moved, in January 1992, to San Francisco, into a big group apartment where some friends of mine lived. The rent was $245/month. For the first couple years, I made only $6,000/year of income – some of it from a band that I joined. I spent my days writing, reading, freelance-editing, and practicing various musical instruments (and often performing). Those two years were two of the best years of my life.   I did not regret my decision at all.  And thinking back on it, I know it was the best decision I ever made.

Say more about “being” an artist, an author?

The weird thing is, for me, that when I’m just walking around — you know, in public — I feel like a bum, like nobody, like nothing. I have no identity as “JONAH WINTER: AUTHOR.” I just see myself as some guy, and not a particularly important one. I dress in a way that is different from most people, but I’ve done that for so many years, that I don’t even remember I’m dressed in a way that might be considered “different.” When I’m not in public, when I’m at home, my focus is on coming up with new projects to write, with figuring out ways to continue supporting myself with my writing. I’m well-aware that many people in the literary world do not consider children’s books (or at least picture books) “literature.” I think I have probably absorbed this, and as such, it’s hard for me to think “I’m a writer!” Because I know that so many people, even people I consider friends, probably are thinking, “How hard can it be…?” You know, to write a picture book. And that’s the main sort of writing I’ve been doing now for the past, say, 15 years.

I once got a letter from a young woman who had become a teacher and told me that she chose her life path after being inspired by a book of mine she’d read as a child. This was one of the most emotional experiences of my life. What a profound thing. It’s funny, though – when children ask me what it’s like to be an author, I often don’t know what to say! Because I don’t really think of myself as an author. So I usually say something like, “Well, you get to sit around all day in your pajamas.” That always gets a laugh — especially since it looks like I’m still wearing my pajamas as I’m doing my author visit!

Do you have visual images in your mind as you are developing the story you are telling?

I always have visual images in mind when developing a story – that’s a necessary part of the process.   Because I write solely picture books, the stories have to be fundamentally visual.  My goal is to create a text that can make for pictures that could tell the story even without the text.  So with most stories I write, I plot out the sequence of images before I write the story – just so I will have a sense of what the visual impact is going to be.  The trick is writing a text which is a good story – not just a set of passages describing images. The images have to be implied in the text, without being overly described. There is so much, as well, that an author can leave to the illustrator, in terms of telling the story. So, with the text, less is definitely more.

I struggle with this somewhat, as I am naturally long-winded by nature! The trick, for me, is in seeing how much I can remove from a story – how many words, images, and informational details I can remove.  In the past, I’ve likened the process to a sculptor carving a block of marble.  The point is to get rid of stuff, not add – this is especially true for nonfiction stories, biographies. You can’t tell the whole life story in 32 pages.  And you can’t hold a child’s attention if you jam in too much information in those 32 pages. Anyhow, yes, I always have a visual sequence of images in mind when I write a story – and it’s always interesting to see what an illustrator does with it, and how closely what they come up with resembles my original vision. It’s fine if it doesn’t. The main thing is that they find something in the text to inspire them to tell the story visually.

You work with many different Illustrators and have said that most often the publisher chooses. Does the publishers’ choice always work out? Has there been a time when you were less than pleased?

As far as illustrators go, I would say “I feel myself to be the luckiest man on earth,” except things clearly did not work out so well for the person who coined that expression. But I have been lucky – exceptionally so. I’ve had 3 books illustrated by the brilliant Barry Blitt – and 3 more illustrated by the peerless Terry Widener. The illustrators I’ve had the good fortune to work with read like a Who’s Who of Best Illustrators – Bob Staake, Shane Evans, Calef Brown, Marjorie Priceman, James Ransome, Richard Egielski, Bryan Collier, Ana Juan, Sean Qualls, Raul Colon, Stacy Innerst, Red Nose Studio, and of course, the inimitable Jeanette Winter.   Sometimes, I’ve suggested the illustrator.  For my book, The Founding Fathers, I said it had to be Barry Blitt, and it was. I said it had to be Terry Widener for Steel Town, and it was.  With The Secret Project, it had to be my mom, and it was. Sometimes, the editor and I have discussed the possibilities before they’ve asked a specific illustrator. I think it’s a very dangerous thing for an author to speak publicly about an illustrator not living up to his/her expectations for a book. Yes, there have been a couple of times that I was less than thrilled with the illustrations. But those times are far outnumbered by the times I’ve been absolutely thrilled. The chemistry in a book between the words and the pictures is kind of like the chemistry in live theater. Usually it works, and the magic it creates is so much more than the sum of its parts.

You Illustrated two of your books. talk about why you didn’t continue illustrating your writing.

Well, aside from the near blindness and carpal tunnel syndrome it induced…, my illustrating style was simply not cost-effective.  By the time I finished the illustrations for those 2 books, my hourly wage had dipped down to something like 10 cents an hour. And that style, photo-realism, ultimately lends itself to a very limited range of topics or books that could be illustrated.  I’ve thought about trying again with a totally different style, and I’ve done some samples in starts and fits. I may still try it again someday….

Do you have a treasure trove of writing and illustrations in a  treasure chest somewhere?

Sure! My filing cabinets! My god, I guess I shouldn’t even admit this publicly, but yes, I have many things that I’ve written, and some paintings too, that have never been published. I have 5 poetry manuscripts for adults that have never been published.  I just stopped trying to get my poetry published about 14 years ago. I didn’t see the point anymore. I have 2 books of poems out. They hardly sold at all. Even the most popular American poets hardly sell any books at all – and mainly only have an audience of other poets. That’s the part that got me down. It just seems like some kind of inside game. And it’s all about who you know, who you went to grad school with, and how you can use those people and how they can use you. That’s my take on it. In the end, too, I think literary quality has absolutely nothing to do with popularity and publishability. That’s something I find especially depressing. So yes, that treasure trove….

What was it like growing up in an artistic household?

Well, since an artistic household was the kind I grew up in, I’m not sure how it’s different from growing up in any other sort of household.  I knew that my household was a lot different from those of my friends and schoolmates, but that had a lot to do with politics.  My parents were basically the only liberals in an extremely rightwing neighborhood in the middle of Dallas during the 60s and 70s.  My dad was an art professor and taught at SMU [Southern Methodist University], which is why we lived where we did – he was able to walk to work. My mother took care of me and my brother while also working at home on her children’s book illustrations and other artworks (she is broadly talented). My dad had a painting studio, a building, in the backyard, where he did all his painting. When he would finish a painting, he’d invite me in to look at it, and we’d look for “critters” together – he painted in a photo-realist style for many years, and from a distance, the paintings look exactly like photographs.  Up close, though, they become abstract, with lots of squiggly lines and shapes – “critters.”

My parents’ friends were all artists, so I grew up surrounded by other artists as well, people who had devoted their lives to art.  When I was very young, my parents participated in a “happening” orchestrated by Claes Oldenburg. My parents had one friend, David McManaway, who made very personal art from found objects, junk, which he called “jomo” art. His studio was a magical place. I can remember visiting it from an early age.  And his house was filled with all sorts of interesting and esoteric stuff, some of it Victorian, but mainly a lot of interesting art.  Something in that world appealed to me so much that I knew that I wanted to have something like that in my life when I grew up. And I sort of do.  My parents are both atheists, as am I, but art was kind of like our religion – still is. It’s sacred. There were many things about my childhood that were traumatic and just horrible. But I am so thankful to have been raised by artists and surrounded by art.   Art will sustain us, when nothing else will.

What was it like working with your Mother?

Great!  But what else am I gonna say?!? No, but seriously, she’s fantastic to work with, and we’ve worked enough together that I know exactly the kind of text that will inspire her the most. So, it’s a real collaboration. I have such respect for her work – as do so many people. My father has often said that she is the most talented artist he’s ever known. And I know that he means that, and that he’s being objective. But she’s also just so good at telling a story in pictures, which is of course the heart of children’s book illustrating. Her style always suits the subject, and it’s always been perfect for every book we’ve done together. Of course, the editorial mandate to keep the author and illustrator apart during the illustration process doesn’t work with us! Once, though, I had to get the editor involved as an intermediary. It was our book on Hildegard von Bingen, medieval mystic, nun, composer, and migraine-sufferer.  My mother wanted me to remove the word “God” from the text. I didn’t want to, so I got the editor involved. “God” stayed – but Mom got her revenge… by illustrating God as what appeared to be an enormous Nilla wafer. When she first showed me the pictures, I looked at that one for a long time, trying to figure out what that thing was, until finally it dawned on me. “Mom,” I asked, “is this Nilla-wafer-type-thing… supposed to be God?” She started laughing and nodding yes. Mom’s revenge.

How do you choose/decide the subject/topic you will write about?

Sometimes I’ll just start writing lists of things or people I could write about. Other times it’s a conversation with someone that gives me an idea. Sometimes it’s a newspaper article – or a museum visit.  For The Sad Little Fact, it was the term “alternate facts,” coined by Kelly Ann Conway, just after Trump took office in early 2017, that inspired me – that and the photograph of Obama’s inauguration, side by side with the photo of Trump’s inauguration, and Trump’s insistence, regardless of this irrefutable evidence, that his inauguration was more highly attended than Obama’s.  With my book on Obama, it was hearing Obama speak at a rally in Birmingham, Alabama, of all places, that inspired me. I was visiting a friend who lived there at that time, and the day before the rally we’d gone to the Civil Rights Museum there. Meditating on what went down in Birmingham back in the 1960s, during my lifetime, and then hearing Obama speak, realizing that there was a really good chance this person could be the next president of the United States, just broke me wide open. I still can’t think of it without getting emotional.

What is your research process for a picture book biography?

The research process really depends entirely on the subject.  When I wrote my bio about Sotomayor, there was no adult book out on her yet, so I had to do all my research through news articles.   But when I did my research for The Founding Fathers, I poured over many books – for an extended amount of time. That book, and the two baseball books I illustrated, involved the most research – many months for each book.  It’s because all 3 books are anthologies – each containing 14 profiles of different figures.  Whew! Mainly, though, I read a few books and some online articles – and in the case of artists and musicians, spend some intensive time with their art and music.

Do you write and rewrite? Do you work with an editor?

It varies from story to story. My favorite stories tend to be the ones I don’t rewrite much at all.  After doing a bunch of research, and taking lots of notes about what I want to do, I just sit down and write the whole thing in one sitting. Then again, some of my better books have involved massive revision – and complete rethinking of how I’m going to approach the narrative.  Dizzy is an example of that.  My first draft had far too much information – and just wasn’t that exciting. It wasn’t till I got the idea to write it like a Beat Generation poem (imagining jazz playing in the background – which does play in the background when I present this book publicly) that I really hit a stride.  And the editor really helped me figure out what information was completely useless and holding the story back (e.g., details about Cab Calloway).  I feel like I really advanced as a writer with that book. It got me started on a path I believe I’m still on – of trying to tailor the voice and form of the story to the subject matter, and of eliminating as much information as possible.

What are your work habits?

Work habits? It would be funny if that were my only answer. But the truth is, I don’t have an answer that’s much longer. My work habits depend entirely on how I’m feeling and what I’m working on. I go through periods when I’m mainly just reading and casting about – or dealing with stomach problems. Then I go through periods where I’m working constantly. I’ve written a lot of manuscripts – I’m very prolific – so laziness is not a problem with me. But in the past few years, despair has gotten in the way – despair and a sense of futility. There are so many topics I’m now not “allowed” to write about anymore – such as the topics that I’m most known for writing about and have won awards for (e.g., racial justice and injustice, powerful women, the lives of people who do not share my gender or ethnicity).  A few years ago, I was told point-blank by my main editor (who is white, as are all of my current editors) that she could not publish any more books by me “on women or people of color, and of course not on white men. I get it, Jonah, you’re totally screwed.” This is in response to the “Own Voices” movement that is now sacred law in the publishing world – the law that you must have “shared experience” with the people you are writing about. I’ve had 2 contracts cancelled because of my ethnicity and gender in relation to the subject matter.

Talk about the complexity of writing potentially “scary” books, scary in the sense of being overwhelming for children, or adults? For example, The Secret Project. …and more about venturing into realms of “political controversy”?

Every children’s book I write is premised on the notion that children can handle the truth, that they can handle so many “difficult” truths that many adults fear they can’t handle.  I think it’s mainly the adults who are scared.   It’s not the kids.  Kids know what it is to be scared, and they know the world’s not perfect. And they appreciate honesty from adults.

It’s interesting – so much of the censorship happening right now in the children’s book realm has to do with adults, on the two extreme ends of the political spectrum, saying that certain books are “harmful” to children. The rightwing book bans and the “progressive” (I don’t think it’s progressive) censorship coming from within the children’s book world (the social media pile-ons, the petitions to get books cancelled, the constant pressure on publishers not to publish anything “problematic” for children) are both coming from the same perspective: These people, on the Far Right and Far Left, seem to believe (I’m not sure if they actually believe it – I think a lot of this is theater) that books can be “dangerous” and “harmful” and often are. As I said in an essay I wrote in the NY Times Book Review about a social media pile-on I endured after the publication of The Secret Project (after a very influential blogger convinced her followers that the book was racist and “harmful”), the only way a book could hurt a child is if it were dropped from a high story window onto the child’s head.

So when I go to write a book like The Secret Project, I don’t believe it’s a dangerous or scary topic – or at least, it’s not so scary that it would be traumatic. Kids know that bombs exist. The bomb that’s exploded at the end of this book was not dropped on people.  (And in any case, there are children all over the world having bombs dropped on them at this very moment. Bombs are harmful to children – not books.) My hope is that that wordless ending, with the 4 pictures detailing stages of the explosion, will give young readers something to think about – hopefully for the rest of their lives. This was something PEOPLE created – possibly the worst invention ever conceived by people. (Though the internet and social media are a close second – and artificial intelligence may someday win top prize.) I liked the idea of removing the story of the bomb’s invention from the historic rationalizations in which it’s usually discussed (“brought a quick end to the war”; “saved lives”; “a necessary evil”) and the complexities of nuclear physics (not good subject matter for a picture book!) – and reducing it to its most basic narrative:  A bunch of scientists go out to this beautiful place in the desert, and, in total secrecy, invent the most lethal thing that’s ever been invented—and then they blow it up.  Apparently, Oppenheimer’s first words after the Trinity Test were not “I am Shiva, destroyer of worlds,” but rather: “Well, it worked.”

Are there topics you haven’t written about because you haven’t figured out how to write about them?

Yeah, estate tax law.

Just kidding! What interests me is taking on subjects that appear to be difficult. I love the challenge. I have not yet encountered a topic so difficult that I haven’t yet at least attempted to write about it.

When you visit schools, are involved in programs for children, what questions are you asked?

“What’s your favorite color?” “What’s your favorite book you ever wrote?” “Are you married?” “I, uh, uh,…, forgot what I was going to ask.”  “Do you have a dog?”  “What’s it like being an author?” “How come you’re wearing your pajamas right now?”

But my favorite question was asked by a little boy on Long Island.   He asked, “How many failures do you have?” I had to ask him to repeat the question, because I was having a hard time processing what he was asking.     I joked it off at first – “Oh, well, my life has been nothing but an endless series of failures….”  But then, he had a real question and wanted a real answer. So he clarified. He wanted to know if I ever wrote anything that didn’t get published. “A failure.” I let him know that, alas, I had quite a number of failures! And I reminded him of that most important of baseball statistics: Even the greatest batters in baseball history still strike out 2 out of 3 times. Baseball, in this sense, is mainly failure. (One of the many reasons I love it – I can really relate to that!) But on a serious level, I think it’s important for children to know that even a “successful” person can have many “failures.”

Another favorite question came from a little girl at a school I visited outside of Pittsburgh. She didn’t ask it publicly, like most kids do.  She came up to me afterwards and asked in private as I was packing up my stuff.  She said she noticed that I wrote a lot of books about “the underdog,” and if I did that on purpose. I said that yes, it was on purpose – that because of my own experience, I sympathize and empathize with people who are bullied and discriminated against. She said she really appreciated this, because she knew how that felt herself. She was one of the only Black kids in this school. At that point, honestly, I didn’t know what to say to her.  I couldn’t say “I know how that feels.” But I think maybe what was important is that she said something to me, that I heard her, and that she saw someone who looked like me writing the kind of books I write. It was a moment of connection that I treasure.

Other memorable responses to your work?

A few years ago, I was giving a lecture in Pittsburgh about my children’s books – to an audience that included both children and adults. One of the memorable responses came from my dentist, of all people! Couldn’t believe she came to this! But she was a huge fan of my RBG book and we are on the same political wavelength. She commented, after what I had thought was my fairly bleak analysis of where the children’s book world stands right now and what my own role in it is devolving into, “What I am struck by is your optimism. How are you able to be so optimistic?” I actually started laughing, because I’ve never been described as an optimist before! Usually just the opposite. But she was serious.  And it made me stop and think, in front of the 100 or so people who were sitting there, about something I had never thought about before, never considered. Yes, I suppose I am an optimist. I believe there are battles worth fighting. And regardless of how under siege I am right now in my career, I don’t give up.  I believe children are worth fighting for, and that they need to know the truth – about a lot of things that many adults want to shield them from. I believe life is worth living.

There was another response from a little boy that just blew my mind. I think he was about 10 years old, maybe younger, but very precocious. And his mind was blown by the fact so many librarians have stopped me (or tried to) from reading certain books to their students because they want to “protect” the children. And he was amazed by all this nervousness in general about “protecting” children from the truth. He thought it was ridiculous, and he couldn’t believe I had to put up with this nonsense on a regular basis. I think I probably should have gotten this kid’s contact info and had him accompany me on future school visits and in all meetings with editors!   He could have been my publicist! The kid was more naturally articulate than I am – and made my point better than I did.

Another memorable response – in a letter from a 3^rd-grade student in San Jose whose class was reading a bunch of my books, including my bio on Hilary Clinton:  “I can’t wait to read about Hillary Clinton. I hope she will be our next president. I don’t like Trump.  He is rude and wants to send me back to Mexico.” (Ugh.)  (But on the other hand, this kid was writing this to me in his second language, English, and he was only 8 years old.   I was deeply moved – by his letter and all the letters I received from this class, all of them Mexican immigrants.)

One more memorable response, and perhaps the most important of them all to me, this one in the form of an email I got through my website:  “I just finished reading one of your books, and realized I had read you before.  I am black, and I thought when I read you that you also were black. What a pleasant surprise for me. I also am a writer(unpublished) and I am 77 yrs old. I realize now how God can use whomever He pleases to get the job done because these stories certainly need to be told.  We are omitted from History books, and even when we contribute many times others get the credit. Thank you for the unbiased stories you tell which most blacks my age can identify with. I’m hopeful all children will read you and others, and learn the truth. And learn to respect all races as being human with hopes, joys, fears and intelligence.”

(I have a printed copy of this taped to the wall above my desk.)

Talk about your most recent picture book, “Banned Book”.

Well, I had been trying to get this one published for a few years, and I think many publishers were scared off by either the subject matter or the unorthodox nature of the narrative approach (lots of redacted text – with footnote disclaimers from the censor).  Thankfully, Creative Editions decided to publish it! They take chances with certain kinds of stories and subject matter that the larger New York publishers will not take.  And I very much appreciate this – especially given the fact that I have experienced the sensation of having my voice silenced in the past few years.

So, it’s a book about a banned book… but is also a book which contains lots of redaction (blacked-out text) and commentary from censors as part of the narrative.  I was very purposeful in not saying what the topic of the banned book in the story is – or on what the specific political agenda of the censors is.   It’s not important what the specific agenda is, or what topic is being censored. The point is that some people think they have the right to ban books and silence authors or shut down even the very existence of a book. Silencing authors and denying a book’s right to exist is by far the worst kind of censorship.   But I view all censorship as wrong. Leftwing, rightwing – to me, it makes no difference where the censor is coming from. It’s wrong to be so arrogant as to believe you have the right to decide for another person what they’re allowed to read – or what authors are allowed to get published, or what book has a right to exist. And children, being right in the center of the increasingly relevant banned book issue, need a book such as this to help them navigate through the murky, toxic waters of this evil.

Your sense of fairness and justice is evident in the stories you choose to tell, talk about how your core values—how you became you (or remained you).

I honestly don’t know. But I do know that I’ve always had the personality that I still have. I’m obsessed with what’s fair and unfair.  And I’m obsessed with being honest – to a degree that has often made life difficult for me, in terms of my personal relationships.  My goal as a person and a writer is always to reveal things, tell the truth, even when I know it will get me in trouble.  I’m not sure if this is an entirely moral impulse. Sometimes it just feels like a compulsion – or something that I find enormously exciting.

The only way we’re going to end the current censorship that has taken over the publishing world is by lots and lots of authors speaking out against it. But currently, there’s a distinct lack of spine.  Writing is not simply an intellectual endeavor – it’s a moral one. Or should be.

I know we love all that issues from our heart and mind… do you have a favorite book among your wonderful collection of works?

I don’t know if I can single out just one. I’m very proud of The Secret Project – and very proud of Banned Book. And The Sad Little Fact. But perhaps I’m most proud of the first book I illustrated, Fair Ball: 14 Great Stars from Baseball’s Negro Leagues.  I was so passionate about that, and I spent so long researching it and painting the pictures – and painting those pictures was not something I was sure I could even do. But I’m proud of those pictures, and proud of the book. I don’t think I’ve ever combined more sides of myself in a single book – or worked so hard on something.  And that was a topic that hadn’t been written about at all in picture book form – not at that point (1999).

Thank you Jonah Winter for your time and your thoughtfulness. More Jonah Winter here and in ArtIsUnity Gallery.

Art Is Unity Interviews Ryan Davis

 

Oil paint, paint is my first love. For the most part, other mediums I work with are a means to an end, whether to create art as an object, explore a theme or work through ideas quickly. With working with oil paint, my love of painting always comes first.

I am very impressed by your portrait work.  It is at once traditional and modern.  Why were you drawn to portraiture? 

Portraiture had always seemed like the pinnacle of oil painting. Even before I started to practice painting, I was always drawing characters and building narratives around the character. I’m drawn to all of the signifiers a portrait can convey in nuanced ways. I have to be considerate of so much from contemporary culture, to the historical practices of figure painting.

Did you feel like it was a choice to make traditional portraiture or is that simply what you were naturally drawn to?  In other words, are you intentionally carrying on a tradition?

It’s a choice. Again portraiture I saw as the pinnacle of oil painting. Once upon a time, I was mindful of how portrait artists like Kehinde Wiley and Kerry James Marshall were referencing Western historical works of art. They are fracturing traditional narratives and building space for Black people to exist. With that being said, I’ve divested from this manner of thinking. Now my approach is creating fictional spaces from traditions within non-Western or pre-colonized spiritual practices. My work now is a journey in unlearning my Western norms.

Can you describe the people you choose.  You paint primarily people of color.  Are these people you know?  How do you find your models?  Is there any social or political intent?

The people I chose to paint I selected from a pool of people I had worked with as part of the larger project. Most of my portrait work was completed in Athens, Ohio as a graduate student, making it a lot easier to simply ask someone to participate. I would gather 3-4 people and conduct a group interview asking them questions that allowed them to reveal who they are. From that group I’d select one or two people for a photoshoot to complete a painting.

I remember once you were talking to me and telling me that you made some portraits of a very specific size on purpose?

I wanted my portraits and figure paintings to create shifting perspectives for the audience so I made them very large. I wondered what it would feel like if the figures in the painting were the viewers and the audience became the ones being looked at? I thought it might relinquish a desire to control a narrative and allow the paintings to operate on its own terms.

There is a range of backgrounds in your work.  Some are all black and some have painted backgrounds.  Is there a reason for this?

The black backgrounds are a reference to Ad Reinhardt’s black paintings. I actually replicated his same methodology in how he creates the matte black texture with oil paint. I am using the language of his works and abstract expressionism and juxtaposing it with Black figures. I was using that void space to speak to the fact that there are no void spaces. But content is more when I was operating through a Western lens, which I’m not concerned about anymore. In my recent collage work which is becoming my foundation or sketch, I’m creating from within the space of non-colonized thinking.

You are an oil painter, also a print maker, collage artist, muralist and more. I really like your mixed media collage work.  In many ways it seems like a big departure from your portrait work.  The colors and subject matter are very different along with the compositions.  How do you choose your collage elements?  Is there an underlying narrative?

My collages have a loose narrative and are building towards creating a world unto itself. The general narrative is that the primary character has lived as the only surviving human in a post-apocalyptic world since they were a child. Nature has been at least partially in stone since the apocalypse and they must restore land without knowing what its natural state actually is. The narrative and world itself is a space for me to share my journey into learning about African and Indigenous agricultural practices. I choose my elements for my collages based on rules I’ve created that will uphold the existence of this fictional world. I have them well sorted out to help me be efficient in creating collages.

Can you talk about the titles in your work?

The titles of my works tend to be either song references or long descriptions of the work. I’m inspired heavily by music, specifically hip-hop. I’m always looking for ways to tie in music. I use song lyrics and titles as a way to build a continuation of music. For the long descriptive titles, that is a bit of me being humorous with myself and trying to not overthink. I think there is a natural desire for artists to want to make titles that are deep and allegorical. Don’t get me wrong, I wish for my work to have that resonance. But I think why titles from artworks in history are deep is that it has had decades and centuries to take on a multifaceted existence. So I just create long narratives to not be so serious and let time give it meaning beyond me.

I didn’t know you made music until recently.  Can you explain the influence on music in your life and work as an artist.  Can you talk about your music?

I’d never call myself a musician but I do enjoy making and love researching hip-hop music. I’ve made beats and written, recorded, and released projects. Some of it you can find if you dig around. I would tell you if I conveniently knew where it was. I sometimes make music or sounds that supplement my studio practice. For me, making music is playing around and I like keeping it that way. It’s less of an informed practice and more just me retreating from the heavier thinking I’m engaged with in my studio. I still spend a lot of time reading and learning about hip-hop in history. It helps identify threads between historically African practices and contemporary Black cultures in a multi-faceted way.

How did you end up making murals?  Do you feel like it is art or simply a job?  Is it gratifying to make truly public art work?

I had made a few group murals through a few different programs as a youth and young adult. I didn’t actually anticipate becoming a muralist, but I had gotten a job leading youth and young adults in making murals and have stuck with it since. From there I’ve gotten commissions from people seeing me on the streets painting murals. The nice thing about that is I don’t have to market myself much. Being on the streets painting, becomes the marketing. Just as well I realized, I may have an easier appeal getting organizations to commission me for a mural than selling more traditional sized painting. The goal when making a mural is to be of service to the community or client. I do enjoy when I know I’ve met the desires of whomever I am making the mural for but that also means I treat it more like a job, than for my studio practice.

Who are your artistic idols?  What inspires you.

As I grow older what inspires me and my creative practice is rediscovering historical narratives of my folks. I’m inspired by Soul Fire Farm, Karen Washington, N.K. Jemisin, Octavia Butler, Talib Kweli or any artist, book, grassroots organization, musician who works to reconnect the threads from Black ancient histories to our present.

 I know you teach as well.  Do you feel like teaching is part of your art practice?

More so the other way around. I try to direct my teaching structures to what I know. By structure I mean how I teach the topic. I try to scaffold in ways that allow for exploration and discovery within the images, which is somewhat how I build my collages. Not every lesson is geared towards that mode of working, but that’s when I’m most engaged with teaching.

Can you talk about your love of plants and how it relates to your artistic practice?

I worked in the arts education department at a botanical garden called Wave Hill for about 3 years. I learned a lot from my peers and really started to realize how much of what I know has such a Western world bias. The world is so old and so much of what we treat as new and sustainable in building a healthy world are old practices the ancestors discovered a long time ago. I found it beautiful to journey into that history and by extension my cultural history. That process is what has developed my work into what it is today.

What is your long term vision for yourself.  Last time I saw you, you were talking about buying land and decolonizing it.  Can you explain what that means for you?

I’m still learning what that looks like for me.

Many thanks to Ryan Davis for this interview; Ryan Davis’s work can be viewed in the ArtIsUnity Gallery.

Art Is Unity Interviews Noa Mohlabane

 

I think of myself as an artist sometimes and to varying degrees.

When I find that what felt like 20 minutes of working on a project was actually 9 hours. When I look at something I did from the perspective of time – sometimes years later – and what I made – the sight or feel of it makes me swoon.

And when do you not think of yourself as an artist?

When not – it is the usual monsters of self-doubt, questioning self-worth, need for outside validation of some sort…

In this US culture where art and artist are not integrated into the activity and career options as readily available, what does it mean to be an artist/to create art?

I have had the chutzpah from an early age to bring my creativity in whether it was asked for or not – into my school projects as well as work.

I have had the privilege and good fortune to be able to volunteer or gift my work in various settings where I did not have to depend on financial remuneration for my work. In this way I was freed from the challenge of worrying so much about the judgement, or when actual or perceived financial constraints might have been perceived as lack of appreciation

I have also had the blessing of having employment where my creativity was totally encouraged and supported

Did you study Art?

Not formally so much but I learned so much by being surrounded by it. From the age of 3 I intently studied the photos in the book “Family of Man” over and over for hours. Later there were other books.

My Stepfather (Victor Ries) was an artist (metal sculptor/gold & silversmith) and so I learned a lot through osmosis – watching and listening to him. In many ways he encouraged me and in some ways his harsh critiques (whether they were about me or someone else) made me more hesitant to explore. My 10 years elder brother Yair, was a musician and I experienced him engulfed in making music and how it had the ability to transform him. My mother was a writer who spoke her heart through her words but threw most of them in the garbage can. My children are both musicians, although one more practicing than the other.

For the past 16 years , my wife, also an artist (Demetra Gayle Fountaine) has encouraged me, and taught me so much about beads and beading (a love throughout my life), color work with knitting (a new love); abundance, valuing my work…

I also took photography classes in various settings like Berkeley City College.

In what ways was it most useful?

Letting myself feel how I was moved by what I saw or touched. Having a chance to see other people’s amazing creativity and being in open conversations. Getting to work side by side with amazing artists.

Are there things you had to unlearn?

Self judgement and wondering whether my work was worthy of the financial investment it sometimes required (equipment, materials, time)

You mentioned doing film photography and developing and printing, talk about your early learning and work.

My step father bought me a camera when I was 16 and helped me set up a dark room in our basement bathroom. Having to pay for film development & paper & chemicals taught me a lot about selectively framing photos.  I also joined a program through the Parks and Rec Department of San Francisco where I could use their extensive darkroom. I could easily get so absorbed in that process that whole days would slip by. I loved the tone changes that came with subtle modifications in what I did. I loved and continue to love what comes into focus when I work with greyscale vs color.

Are there Art movements/styles/periods, and or artists that you’re drawn to, influenced by?

The Family of Man book, House of Bondage by Earnest Cole, The work of Dorothea Lang,  Gordon Parks, Peter Magubane, and Andy Goldsworthy are very high on my list.

Are there Art movements/styles/periods, and or artists that you’re responding to—expanding, changing, refuting the narrative?

If what you mean by this is – who were the photographers whose work brought forward the connectedness of us all, and the reality that people wanted to turn a blind eye to, but that once seen, powerfully called for change and justice, then all of the above photographers listed before did that (except Andy Goldsworthy, who speaks to me in a different, but equally powerful language)

Does, how does the situation you’re photographing influence the approach, composition of what you’re creating, capturing?

I like to be in and of the moment more than an outside observer. So I may lose a lot of photos because I do not want to disrupt or create an atmosphere where people feel they need to pose or alter their state for “presentability’s sake”. And I am usually witnessing through my lens from within the gathering of human spirits which allows for hearts and spirits to shine through.

Is your art actively influenced by thoughts/emotions/spirit in the moment of creation; If so how?

Yes! It is those moments of authentic experience full of thoughts/emotions/spirit/vulnerability/- the open heart moments that I am most drawn to witness – it is how I hope through my photography to have us all feel our connectedness to each other. I celebrate when I see the person’s spirit shine through.

Does, how does current events/politics impact your creation? And how would you define your “activist/social justice work” and the role it plays in your photographic choices?

There are two parts to this – one is I find myself taking photos of the realness of what it is here in our world – the devastating impact on our spirits and also in nature (I have a whole series of recent photos I am not quite sure what to do with except I knew I had to take them – whale bones on the beach, a dead owl’s wings and head separated from the body, a cormorant skeleton). Also in this line –  people shedding tears with pain that is felt to the core.

The second part is I love to focus my witnessing on what is possible – the connection / resilience / support / celebration / and again – the connection – oneness- despite everything that has been done in our world to separate us from each other and the natural world we live in.

It is also very important to me that the individuals in my photo witnessing feel honored and respected – so I will delete a photo to stay in integrity with that – if the person feels uncomfortable with the photo, or if it touches a sore spot that they are not ready for at that time – even if I liked it.

Do you have other things going on when creating: music, visuals, meetings, company?

Depends on what I am working on. When I originally am photographing people of course I am with the people. The later working with the images – the creation of a slideshow where the visuals speak their own narrative is a more internal process. Sometimes music, but quiet is welcome as well. I get easily overstimulated, so this is often a more solitary experience without outside stimulation. I do then like to share it and view it with the eyes of others to see what came across in the narrative and whether I want to take that into account as I continue to edit.

What are, if any, your work habits? Do you work at regularly scheduled time?

Sometimes I procrastinate held back by my inhibitions mostly. I love the liminal time in the wee hours of the morning – when I wake up at 2 or 3 or 4 and all is quiet and there are no distractions.

Is creation planned, detailed, spontaneous, improvisational, reactive, proactive…?

Not sure – maybe all of them

Do you have any particular physical differences/problems that affect your art—like vision, hearing, nerve conditions, allergies, mental health, etc?

Yes—I have a tremor that has impacted my photography. I used to love the quality of photos I got from using my camera. However I found, as my tremor increased over the years, that the image stabilization in my camera was insufficient and that my iPhone has better image stabilization. So now I use my phone pretty exclusively. The other advantage is that it is always with me, can be even less obtrusive than working with a fairly large camera or tripod, and images can be easily shared.

Is there an artist(s) – photographer or art work(s) that have made a lasting impression on you?

Yes – the photographers I mentioned before— The Family of Man book, Earnest Cole, Dorothea Lang,  Gordon Parks, Peter Magubane, and Andy Goldsworthy, amongst others.

Has it influenced your thinking about art or the art you make?

I am sure it has had an influence!

A photographs may or may not fall into the category of “art” and that may or may not matter. Has the ubiquitous flow of photographic images effected your thoughts, attitudes, approach to picture taking?

There are so many images all around now with each of us being able to take photos at no cost once we have purchased our phones. Surprisingly that has had little impact on how I feel about photographs except that I get the pleasure of seeing amazing images taken by many people.

The one thing I notice I have a negative reaction to is the plethora of posed and “selfie” images projecting the image that is proper for social media consumption.

Does money, income play a role in your creation of art?

As I mentioned before – I have been fortunate to not have that have to be a primary factor. I find myself more drawn to giving as gift than selling it. This can often be a challenge when trying to build our Cocreation Arts business.

Do you apply for grants, fellowships etc.?

I have occasionally.

What is the process like for you?

Pretty torturous. Haven’t gotten any for my work specifically. A few where some of my work was part of a bigger project.

Do you apply for gallery shows and other exhibits?

Some. More fun.

Do you give artist talks.

No.

What work, important interest occupy you in addition to art?

Building Community.

Thanks to Noa for building community with Art Is Unity. See Noa’s work here and in ArtIsUnity Gallery.

 

Art Is Unity Interviews Laura Anne Walker

The need to do art is in my blood. I have considered myself an artist since I was 3 years old. My uncle Carnell Walker made his living making signs for businesses; he would with his left and right hands do portraits of people who stopped by his easel outside of the park on the Avenue of the Americas, between 3^rd and 4^th Streets—I therefore decided at 3, when I had learned to read, to become an artist.

Wow.

Yeah, at the same time I also wanted to be a teacher, which I figured would support my artistic endeavors;

In this US culture where art and artist are not integrated into the activity and career options as readily available, what does it mean to be an artist/to create art?

I do art because I love to do it. When I wasn’t able to do it for many years, I felt the void.

At three I drew pictures from magazines and geometric shapes; at fifteen I studied with someone who would rant at and tried to control the students. I didn’t learn anything from him. I won 2^nd prize in an Art Contest (my brother Lance—also an artist—also won 2^nd prize).

Are there artists or art works that have made a lasting impression on you?

A number of people: My uncle Carnell Walker—my initial inspiration; my cousin Shaaron, who made interesting “designs” that I tried to copy; my mom, who enjoyed creating fashions for me—I was her fashion model.

There was a nun (who terrified me), Sister Lawrence Emanuel, I believe that was her name, at my high school, Saint Agnes Academic School, that now is no more—she recommended a novel, Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier, (that terrified me for years) that kind of begins at the ending, “Manderley was no more”…, and also, there was no description of Rebecca, except that “she was the most beautiful creature I ever saw” one of the characters said…Also there was some other description about her looking innocent, like a “Botticelli angel” – So I looked up Botticelli angels, and found the lovely Venus that Botticelli had painted, and I began to get ideas from the flowing nature of his Venus.

In kindergarten, when I was four, Mrs. Jonas told me the ocean painting I made with red couldn’t possibly be the ocean – I disagreed, but didn’t tell her so, but I did tell my mother. Also, gymnastics, ballet, belly dancing, skaters, and dance in general (Peggy Fleming, Ludmilla Tourischeva, Olga Korbut, Nadia Comaneci, Robin Cousins, Surya Bonaly, Dominique Dawes…; 11”, 12” fashion dolls, like Barbie; The strict nuns and lay teachers; nursery rhymes, fairy tales, Grimms’ Fairy Tales, Hans Christian Andersen’s Tales, and The Inner City Mother Goose…; my late younger brother, amazing artist Lance D Walker; and cats, to whom I owe at least one of my nine lives! They all were influences, and continue to be influences… Cats are always in my art somewhere—except on a rare occasion.

Is your art actively influenced by thoughts, emotions, spirit in the moment of creation?

All of the above. I let my pencil do the work.  And cats are my muses.

Do current events, politics impact your creation?

Only occasionally, such as September 11; and the assassination of George Floyd – I did art on them.

I do have a work that references Jackson and Jefferson. There’s a “fight back piece” that portrays Black people as not being ok… the old Aunt Jemima; the images on tv…

Do you have other things going on when creating: music, visuals, meetings, company?

It depends on my current circumstances, location and surroundings and atmosphere, my mood, the amount of sleep, food or water that I have had, the temperature, etcetera.

What are, if any, your work habits?

I’m a hard worker, intense, but I have a good time.

Do you work at regularly scheduled time?

No.

Is creation planned, detailed, spontaneous, improvisational, reactive, proactive?

All of the above and more. I will fill in a whole page with what I want to see and then at times it’s like divining…it’s fun to let the pen go where it wants to go….

Parts of my work are auto biographical… My brother’s amazing artistic ability was energizing to me, and I probably mentioned that to him…

What, if any, is your primary medium? Is the medium you primarily work in your preferred medium?

Yes, ink.

Did you study art?

I once took a class, but I was too shy and lacking confidence, and although I turned in work, it was not quite what the teacher expected. He really liked me, so I think he gave me a B or a B-. I believe he was being kind…

Though I created the barest minimum of work for that class, I learned that I love working with ink, nibs, and round sable brushes.

…I was so afraid, I didn’t do anything in it. First assignment was a self-portrait. Was afraid because never felt free…felt, felt restrained by the thought of Rembrandt or Caravaggio, Botticelli…in general there are these restrains put on children. Wanted to do something different as a teacher. Felt this right away…not like the teacher who told me the sea was not red.

Are there things you had to unlearn?

Had to unlearn listening to other people and listen to my own heart – do what I want to do…. I learned how to extend the flow of a line, rather than make a series of short ones.

Are there art movements, styles, periods, and or artists that you’re responding to—expanding, changing, refuting the narrative?

No, it’s all about cats, and often autobiographical.

What role does money, income play in your creation of art?

At some point in my early teens, my father stopped paying for art supplies, but he would pay for graph paper, so I did a lot of doodling during this period. In high school, when I started doodling, I started to become free of restraints? This became especially true when I saw doodling similar to mine in a museum, although I still had feelings about not being skilled in realism

Art is like Soul Food, or peasant food: it starts off being unrecognized, can be lived on, and then in order to do it, it suddenly becomes an expensive delicacy, prohibitive, if that makes sense.

Yes… Is your basic living income derived from your art?

No, it is not.

I do sell my work. It’s an honor and a joy, also a sadness because you have to give away something you worked so hard on – 1st piece sold for $75, have sold many pieces subsequent to that including to Kim Cattrall and Patch Adams, MD.

What work, other interests occupy you in addition to art?

I am a Speaker who advocates for the rights of people who live with mental illnesses.

Adjusting to a new life after the death of my Mom…I was lucky–on my way to a meeting, I went into a room, the man was leading an art group. I later found out the man had a gallery. I was involved with the gallery for the next 20 years (HAI) until it went out of business.

The art gallery was most beneficial to me, because I got to express myself which is probably something I hadn’t done which caused me to get so sick.

Do you apply for grants, fellowships etc.?

I believe I would need to take a course on applying for those things.

Do you apply for gallery shows and other exhibits? Give artist talks?

Occasionally.

I do apply for gallery shows and other exhibits—I’ve shown in more than 50 group exhibitions, and in a solo show of 60 works in SoHo…  For any awards or honors I have received, I thank my muses - the cats that have graced my life.

Many thanks to Laura Anne Walker, view Laura Anne’s work here and in ArtIsUnity Gallery.

 ArtIsUnity Interviews – Sammy Bennett

 

 

I consider myself an artist who uses printing techniques through the lens of a painter. I’m not a traditionalist in the sense that a print is only a print and a painting is only a painting.

Can you explain what you like about printmaking and what you like about painting? Why do you like to combine both techniques?

Painting is a one to one ratio where you can see the brushstrokes my individual hand made. I usually paint things that have a lot of meaning to me.

What I like about printing is that I can reuse that image or pattern again and again, for years if you wanted to. It can hop across multiple materials. Each time you print it has a different context, so the meaning of that image is always growing as you use it in more diverse locations. Combining the two creates a new world with its own set of rules.

You made a series of paintings on window blinds, that were exploring people’s hidden lives? You were using a lot of Dr. Seuss imagery. Can you explain this series of work?

This was my thesis work l made while finishing up my MFA at Michigan State University. It was inspired by the textual and pictorial absurdity of Green Eggs and Ham. I liked the repetition of my own name in the story and thought multiple “Sams” represented different phases of my life. I modified the illustrations by cutting the figures out of the pages of the book and collaging zoomed in photos of genitals taken from pornographic magazines. I painted large scale on the blinds from those collages. It was about getting outside your comfort zone and trying new things.

You have also recently branched out into soft sculpture, tattoos, and clothing making. Do you consider that a part of your practice?

Yes, it’s all under the umbrella of what I do. It’s all literally just practice for me. I really just enjoy practicing a lot of different things with no hopes of ever perfecting them but maybe getting close to it. Also a lot of images I use will start as a painting and then later be turned into a tattoo or be thrown onto a hoodie. I want to see how an image works on different materials.

When you are making a lot of things it’s all about compartmentalization and keeping organized.

Can you explain the imagery in your work? You seem to have a specific language, or artistic lexicon, that you use that forms a loose narrative in your work. Do you see it that way?

Yes, I see it all as a narrative. I’m just one small footnote in a much larger story that is Humanity. The imagery is a jumble from personal family photos to found images from online or magazines. Children’s books or my old drawings, plants, bricks and woodgrains. These are all the patterns around me that I am constantly looking at.

From what you’ve told me you have a few subjects you often gravitate towards, which is sexual/ pornographic imagery and then on the flip-side it seems like recently you’ve been making a lot of art about childhood and your Midwestern upbringing. Can you talk about your sources and how you choose your imagery?

I take a lot of screenshots of shows I’m watching or something that turned me on. It’s really intuitive and I don’t think much when I’m grabbing an image. Its only after the fact I like to sit with it and decipher why I chose it.

Is your sexual content about sex itself or an exploration into sexuality itself?

It’s a mixture of the two. I was reading a lot of Michael Foucault at the time I started making working about sex and trying to think of sex as a scientific study. I wanted to connect pornography to something objective, universal and academic. I was also experimenting in my personal life with new and different partners and trying to break out of the male/female binary.

Have you ever or do you think you would ever work in total abstraction? Do you feel like you need to have some imagery?

I used to make purely abstract paintings a long time ago when I was learning to paint. It taught me how to move it around, make large gestures and not be so fussy. They were always side experiments and something I could then bring back into the figurate work I was making at that time. I don’t think I would work in pure abstraction, I’m just not that brave.

What inspires you? Do you feel like you are inspired by NYC, specifically Brooklyn? Do you think being from Michigan and having that background and then living in NYC has influenced how you think both in terms of content and imagery?

Yes, both the city and nature inspire me. Whether walking along the beach or down the street my eyes are always roaming and looking at different materials. Finding patterns that exist in both is also a fun game I like to play. My love of the outdoors and nature is always there

What was your experience like in school?

School was challenging.

I feel like craft is very important to you. Both in practice and an appreciation for it. Can you explain that?

My mom taught me an appreciation for craft. She was always sewing our costumes or making nativity scenes out of wood blocks. The time spent making the thing shows your love for the person. I don’t think craft needs to be elevated into a high art form, the pillow my grandma embroidered is just as important as a painting hanging in a gallery. They are both artifacts who hold the same value.

When I first met you, you were doing some curating, then took a break. Recently you have had the opportunity to transform your friend’s spare room into the Bob’s Gallery. Has it been fun to organize shows again? Do you like taking up the curator role? How do you see that fitting into your practice or overall vision of yourself as an artist?

Yeah it has been fun to organize shows again and it’s good to be on the other side of the gallery system, keeps you on point. I do really enjoy taking up the curator role and being behind the scenes. It’s not something I ever set out to do, it has always come out of a place of frustration and necessity. In this new installment of curating I’ve realized how import it is to build a community of artist around you. Quite simply my friends deserve to have their work seen and I want to help facilitate that and create dialogue around their work.

In terms of my overall vision, I would like my own artwork to be my main focus one day but I have this great opportunity right now that I’m going to take full advantage of. I’m not sure what will come out of it.

Can you talk about your education? How has that influenced the art you make? Do you have any opinions on the value of a BFA/MFA? Did you enjoy teaching art?

My education consisted of a traditional oil on canvas/Western view of art in undergrad and then in grad school I tried to explode all my teachings. I moved away from oil painting on canvas and more into installation and screen-printing. I enjoyed my seven years of art school. I only took a year and a half off between undergrad and grad school so my mindset was not really rooted in reality. So when I finally got out I fell flat on my face over and over again.

I owe a lot to all the great teachers I had that still care about their students. I think there are too many tenured profs out there that just don’t have it in them anymore.

Yeah, get a BFA and an MFA if you want; to each their own but I don’t think you need either to be an artist. You also don’t need to go into severe debt to go to art school.

Yes, I really enjoy teaching art to people who genuinely want to learn. I carry all those lessons and assignments with me and I enjoy giving them back to students.

Many thanks to Sammy Bennett; view Sammy’s work here, and in our ArtIsUnity Gallery.

Comment Here

 

ArtIsUnity Interviews – Brittany Hayden

I do define myself as a figurative painter. I wouldn’t say it’s important to me to be one, but the figure is a subject I really enjoy painting and plan to paint more of in the future. I’ve tried abstraction and I just don’t get the same satisfaction out of making abstract work as I do making figurative work, although, I very much appreciate abstract art and I do find myself inspired by a lot of abstract painters.

It seems like in your earlier work you use a lot of symbolic imagery and use characters that exist in a narrative context.  Is this true?  If so, can you talk about the symbolism and different repeating characters in your work? 

Yes, I used a lot of symbolism in my earlier work because I was focused on creating a dreamlike narrative driven by childhood nonsense. For example, a lamb with hands and a hat is a recurring character in my earlier paintings; it was created in a playful and spontaneous state of mind, channeling my inner child.

Your more recent work seems to be much more straightforward figurative painting. The style also seems more modern and direct.  Do you feel this is accurate?

Yes I do. I like the simplicity of a more traditional subject matter. I feel that it gives the viewer more time to focus on the way something is being painted than what’s being painted.

How has your process changed in making the work?  Is that important to you artistically and conceptually?

My process has changed a bit in 2020. I’ve learned the importance of painter’s tape thus giving me the opportunity to have crisper lines. I also used to use strictly oil paints, and then I learned how to use oil pastels and a little acrylic never hurt anyone.

Much of your work deals with intimacy, sensuality and sexuality.  Can you talk about these themes in your work?  How much of your art is about yourself?  How much is about others and the world around you?

What queer doesn’t love talking about their sexuality haha? Most of my paintings either involve myself, queer people that I know in real life, or people I’ve dreamt up and created on the canvas. Queer humans are very vibrant people in their clothing and their personalities so I try to use a wide range of color to express the boldness and excitement  of the LGBTQ+ community

Do you work in other mediums besides painting?  Is drawing important to you and your process?  Do you do studies? 

Drawing is  very important to me and I make studies for all of my paintings unless I’m copying a photograph. I often feel like I can’t get started on painting until I have at least 50% of the idea fleshed out. It gives me more confidence when approaching a new painting and it also saves a lot of time when I’m ready to put down a layer of paint. I often wonder what would happen if I skipped the study step and went straight to the canvas… an experiment to try in the future I suppose.

Who are some of your influences?

Tons! I often think about Robin F. Williams’s color palette especially in her 2017 exhibition, and her painting “Rescue Party” is one that I think about on a daily basis. Andrew Salgado is another painter I have recently started to look up to, I love his use of color and the flatness of his figures. After seeing the works from just the two artists that I’ve listed they have both changed the way that I look at my work. Their paintings changed my color palette and the way that I render a form.

Do you listen or watch things while you’re working?

Sometimes I’ll have music playing or a podcast if I feel like my brain is too busy thinking about other things outside of my studio, but a lot of the time it’s silent and I don’t even notice.

Do you work at regularly scheduled time?

Not at all haha.

Many thanks to Brittany Hayden: view Brittany’s work here, and in our ArtIsUnity Gallery.

ArtIsUnity Interviews: Yasmeen Abdallah

I am an artist. But growing up, I didn’t know any artists; I didn’t think “being an artist” was even an actual occupation. I certainly didn’t have any role models or guidance in that area. It was only in college that I took an art class as an elective and learned that it was considered a profession. That’s when I decided I was going to pursue it, and that I would teach art to supplement my living. Or at least do my best to earn a living wage on it!

What are you working on right now? 

Right now, I’m working on some mini drawings, paintings, collages, textile pieces, zines, and artist books, all composed from scraps I’ve accumulated during 2020. Their scale reflects the limitations of space, which I’m approaching as a prompt, rather than a challenge. I am enjoying the intimacy of working so small, and rethinking the domestic sphere and online as spaces to make art for, as an alternative to the traditional gallery setting.

How is it different from your former work? 

My former work took up space, quite often, in the form of large sculptures and installations that played with light, shadow, interactivity, multidisciplinary hybrids, and experience. The work made during the pandemic is more introspective and vulnerable; they’re like visual diaries about this awful time, focusing more on isolation, mental health, loss, uncertainty and instability, and essentially just trying to survive amidst the stressors of the pandemic and beyond.

Can you talk about your process of mark making? You use a lot of different materials, most of which are found and then stitched together. Can you explain why? Do you feel like there is an aesthetic and conceptual element to these materials? 

I often think about misfits lost in the world (myself included), trying to find their way. I think a lot about fragments left behind (that could be from my historical archaeology concentration in college). I’m interested in heirlooms, keepsakes, mementos, but equally as fascinated by the materials deemed unworthy of precioushood. I think this is because I draw connections between the material objects and the people to whom they belonged.

Growing up, I’ve never really had much family, and my father, with whom I was closest, and with him, my connections to the histories and lineages housed within the material culture. On the rare occasion when I would hear things of long-lost relatives, such as a great aunt being a W.A.C. by discovering a moth-eaten hat that had belonged to her, I would study that hat, those deteriorating threads, and try to get to know them through the fragments left behind. It can be pretty emotional and intense. Sometimes, I’ll come across scraps that possess characteristics of someone I know, and that will prompt me to make something. Other times, the work may be inspired by no one in particular, and may be responding to broader feelings and concerns of loss, alienation, fragmentation, or resilience. I stitch with deliberate features, much like the brushstrokes of a painter. At times the marks are grandiose, meticulous, refined, sloppy, haphazard, exuberant. I refer to my sewing technique as “Frankenstitches” because it is like Dr. Frankenstein piecing together broken particles to create a whole being.

I want to honor people that have survived hardships, and I want to pay homage to them. I am a big believer in the idea of unity and building community and solidarity, and I see these textile works as a celebration of these ideals; as a form of protest art. They are less explicit than the traditional signage that one is used to, with fonts, graphics; they are deliberately abstracted, and crudely woven, because they are defying death, defeat, and their intended landfill destinies. They are meant to provoke thought and critical engagement, and I hope are accessible enough for people to connect with and feel the same sense of urgency that I do to push back at systems of oppression and complacency in societies.

Do you consider your art a form of political activism? [Which causes are you most involved with in your art? Environmentalism comes to mind? 

Yes, I think it depends on the medium which issues I’m dealing with. With things more rooted in human rights and social justice, they often take form in more text-based or figurative works, as traditionally, the visual vocabulary of activist art is often font or graphic-heavy, which makes for powerful and memorable iconography. I recognize and often draw from this potent and impactful way of working when I work in collage, zine, or digital art forms. With painting and fiber arts, I gravitate more toward the abstraction route, as it offers some respite from messaging and there is a bit more room for interpretation of the works. With color, shape, texture, and gravity, narrative is less controlled and offers an opportunity to connect on another sensory level, which can be empowering, because people can draw from the art in many different ways while you are leading them somewhere more ambiguous, and I’ve found that it’s often those conversations that are most exciting and can lead to something revelatory. In these works, I focus more on environmental concerns, and collect and repurpose discarded materials and consumer waste. In salvaging the unwanted, I am finding ways to think about care, potential, and sustainable modes of living. I piece them together slowly and painstakingly, giving them the attention and love they have been denied. I hope that this will inspire others to help undo the extreme damage done to this planet. I impart my practice in all of my classes, and it’s great to see when students and other artists bring it into their practice. So I think that’s also a form of activism. Engaging different generations of students to think more ecologically about material sourcing, use, and potential.

Do you work at regularly scheduled time? Is creation planned, detailed, spontaneous, improvisational, reactive, proactive? 

I generally don’t have a set time, I feel the impetus to create, and work that way. The schedule and the implementation of rules is something that I’ve never worked well with. I love the fluidity of time and space. And when I sit down to work, I sometimes have an idea in mind; other times, it’s purely free-flowing.

Do you consider yourself a conceptual artist? 

In some ways, I would say so. I’m really driven by both materiality as well as concept, as a means of exploring questions or human behavior through art. Sometimes I explore materials conceptually as well: where does this material come from? What are the ethical implications of its production, the marketing, its intended use, what becomes of it upon human interaction? Do repercussions result from its existence? How can it be transformed after it’s been disposed of?

Did you study Art? 

Artists are such unique contributors/members of societies they inhabit, and the roles vary so much based upon the conditions in which they exist. I went to UMass Boston, a state university, double majored in studio art and anthropology in college, and minored in women’s, gender & sexuality studies. I was fortunate enough in many ways to have some freedom to tailor my studies to explore art around the world, and to think about human evolution and degradation through a visual art lens. I was able to understand revolution, protest, war, environmental destruction, economic collapse, education systems, politics, oppression, consumerism, and resilience through the art made that addressed or responded to these issues.

I have so much admiration for my former art educators. They pushed me, nourished me, and gave me the space I needed to grow. I am so grateful for their support and belief that I was making work that mattered. Everyone should feel that they matter, and that the work they do has value and validity. I learned so much about how to be an artist from then, but also how to be a compassionate educator that does their best to make sure their students are prepared for what awaits them beyond graduation.

The ways I look at history and contemporary culture are drawn from my archaeology and art courses and the professors who taught them. Their expertise contributed a lot to my worldview. From studying indigenous cultures and later doing archaeology field work with two New England tribes and understanding history through those lenses, to understanding world history through photography art history classes, or through finer , I began to see ways to use art in ways that spoke of documentation in an array of forms. I began to make connections into how I could weave activism through art. I was so continually inspired through the experiences I had while in school. They provided insight into who I wanted to be as an art educator, and how my practice plays into the curricula I create.

What role does money, income play in your creation of art? 

The fact of not having much definitely does impact how and what I create. I have learned as I have grown as an artist just how much this plays into the ways I work, and what is produced in the studio. I only buy the bare bones required—mainly glue, paint, tools, a basic sewing kit. Everything else has been collected from various free stores, artists upgrading their materials, recycled from daily life, or scrounged from various pockets of the world. In a way, I am a collector, an archivist, and a repurposer of the mundane, much more so than a consumer. It pains me to have to purchase things when I know that so many things go to waste, and I’m much more interested in using an almost empty mascara tube than a new box of something, because I want to push that nearly-gone object into new terrains. There’s something really magical about that process for me.

Is your basic living income derived from your art? 

My income is mainly derived from teaching art, much more so than selling work. My work is not for everyone’s taste, it has punk roots, and is very DIY and all about rule-breaking and not caring what the crowd is doing. I would never want my work to be just a commodity, or something purely decorative. It’s raw, primal and vulnerable. So while I appreciate that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, when someone does connect with it, it makes that much more meaningful.

Do you apply for grants, fellowships etc.? 

I have not been doing much in terms of applying for things since the pandemic began. I had been teaching remotely for the first year and a half, before being thrust back into a fusion of remote and in-person classes, and it was the most challenging point in my teaching career yet. I teach a wide range of courses, disciplines, and ages, so I’m constantly moving furniture and materials around between classes and setting up demos. Additionally, as an adjunct professor and a teaching artist, I am an independent contractor, working for multiple schools and organizations. Each one has their own platform, curriculum setup, point people, and requirements. So I have numerous email accounts, faculty meetings, and administrative tasks each week, on top of individual and group meetings and check-ins with students. Time that I had spent commuting pivoted to endless Zoom calls, Google Meets, emails, stream updates, Slack responses, and etcetera. As we moved back to in-person classes, the demands remained, while commuting time and in-person meetings also factored back into the equation. So I would say the last year has really been a new learning curve of how to budget in-person and virtual needs in a way that doesn’t burn one out, while still supporting my many students to the fullest of my capabilities. That has been my main area of focus, which is still being delicately navigated, and taken up an extraordinary amount of time. I’m hoping that as things move forward, my time will be my own again and I can pursue my interests and fulfill my needs and remind myself again why I chose this path.

What work, important interests occupy you in addition to art? 

Social justice initiatives and issues are really important and occupy the rest of my time. I think they intersect a lot with education and art in a myriad of ways, or at least in the work that I do. It’s very important to continue to find new ways to use our time and strengths to address these issues.

Do you give artist talks?

I do a fair amount of artist talks. It’s so awesome to connect with people through conversations about art in meaningful ways through discussion. Engaged dialogue is so nourishing and reflective, and something I can’t convey the significance of enough.

Many thanks to Yasmeen Abdallah; view Yasmeen’s work here, and in our ArtIsUnity Gallery.

 

 

The term “artist” is so weighted now, I’d rather just view someone as an artist if they’ve chosen to make art of some kind. The rest is just categorization of monetary success or professional commitment, differentiating between fine and commercial art or lowbrow vs highbrow—but sure, I think of myself as an artist. Currently I’m working on pieces that engage directly with the work of other artists, namely John Baldessari and Robert Ryman. Engaging directly with existing art is a new path—and one I had to come to terms with going down because there’s an almost inevitable “wink, wink, nudge, nudge” element to it. I don’t want it to be academic or too “insider.” So, I’m trying to be playful with it and make sure that comes through.

Your process is deceptively complex and uses different methods including inkjet printing, stenciling and hand painting.  How did you end up with this process?  Why is it important to you?

I’ve been working fairly fluidly between digital sketches and the canvas for a while now, even before involving inkjet and stencils. But using inkjet and stencils both started with the “Death of the Author” series a couple of years ago. I had recently purchased a large format vinyl cutter, which is usually used for the vinyl lettering you see on museum walls or for stencils in commercial airbrushing. My original intention was to make stencils for pure text pieces. But I put that project on pause to work on digital sketches for the “Death of the Author” series.

While working on sketches in Photoshop and not finding them compelling enough, I decided to copy and paste a scribble. It was just one stupid little pasted scribble, but I recognized as soon as I did it that the duplication had to be a core part of the work. And immediately after that I thought of the vinyl cutter sitting just a few feet away and how stencils would be the perfect tool for painting reproductions of complex scribbles. And, of course, the duplication also reflected perfectly some of the themes of originality in the text. There aren’t a lot of “aha” moments in making art, so that was a rather lovely little convergence. That simple copy/paste ended up setting me off the work I’ve been doing for the past couple of years.

Can you explain your use of pop imagery and why you use it?  Is the clean, but also seemingly Twomblyesque mark making important to your artistic vision? 

Pop art for me is something that addresses pop culture, which isn’t something my work touches on too much. Even when I was focused on cartoons and comics, it was more about the means of communication rather than the pop culture aspect. But I’ve brought some of the aesthetic from the cartoon-based work into the text work to allow for levity. If there weren’t a sense of humor in it, I’d probably find my own work dreadful.

Do you consider yourself an abstract pop artist in the vein of Jonathan Lasker or Nicholas Kurshnick? Your work also has a conceptual element.  Do you consider yourself a conceptual artist?  Or a painter where the concepts are very important, but the object still takes precedence?

Well, I didn’t know Nicholas Kurshnick so thanks for the tip! But the narrative that conceptual art denies the object bothers me. Let’s take an 8.5 x 11” page that describes a work that could be executed, for example. There’s an assumption that the art has no object because the work described in the text doesn’t exist—or at least doesn’t have to. However, the page format, font, and framing of the work all have an effect on how we perceive the work. The fact that a physical document exists is important, as is the fact that it’s the printed word and not written or oral. It’s also a commodity. The same is true of a black and white photo of a performance that no longer exists. Those early conceptual artists deliberately chose an aesthetic. Even if they said there’s no aesthetic, there is one. It was just reduced. In fact in several recent paintings I’m deliberately lifting that aesthetic.

Fortunately, artists today can combine the conceptual and painting without having to toe a party line—whether conceptual vs painting, figurative vs abstract, etcetera. And 1980s painters like Lasker, Christopher Wool, and Peter Halley opened that up a lot for painters like me.

Can you talk about your use of text?  Why are you working over text and how do you feel about that conceptually and aesthetically?  When you choose a text, how do you choose it and why?  Why do you obstruct them with paint and other mediums?

Aesthetically, I find working with text an interesting challenge because of its regular pattern–pitting these loose marks against the Gutenberg galaxy, as McLuhan calls it.

So far, the texts that I’ve chosen are ones that I’ve been mulling over. I had worked with existing text before–but in a comics context. But the impetus to work with the printed word came from a combination of getting bored with working with comics and mulling over the essay “Death of the Author” by Roland Barthes. I hadn’t read it in years, but it was something I’d occasionally think about.  It occurred to me that, if you take his position to the logical conclusion, you could not only disregard the intent of the author, as he suggests, but also cancel the text itself. In other words: If the reader’s interpretation of the text trumps the author’s intent, why bother with the text? So I thought of how to cancel the text in a playful way. The reproduced scribbles act as a callback to the content of the text, so it’s not just some sort of antagonistic gesture. It’s also not a definitive statement but rather an exploration.

Is creation planned, detailed, spontaneous, improvisational, reactive, proactive?

Once I start the actual painting, everything is planned, even if there are still small decisions being made along the way. But I allow for a lot of spontaneity in the ideation and sketch phase. And I also allow myself to try out stupid ideas in those phases–absolutely horrible concepts and sketches. Every once in a while, even a stupid idea will suggest something worth following.

Does the medium you’re working in influence the content and or composition of what you’re creating?

Generally I start with a general concept and then work out what technique would work best to execute it. But since there’s a self-reflexive element, the medium usually does become the message, as it were.

Did you study Art?    If so, in what ways was it most useful? Are there things you had to unlearn?

I studied at the Academy of Fine Arts Vienna. Probably the most useful thing was connecting with other people who were seriously engaged with art. Professors can be important but it’s students who you end up exchanging ideas with and spending the most time with. The luxury of a lot of time spent in the studio is important, making horrible work and learning from that. The Academy was in transition when I was there. After my first year, a whole fleet of older professors exited. The curriculum was probably the same one Egon Schiele had–classical perspective, life drawing, paint chemistry, etcetera. But the new batch of professors brought in new trends, new media—artists like Sue Williams, Muntean and Rosenblum, Eva Schlegel, Renée Green, Peter Kogler, and so on. None of the professors in my master class were dogmatic so any unlearning I’ve had to do are things I had taught myself.

Can you talk about your experience in both the US and in Europe?  How has that influenced your art?

Living in both places has definitely had an effect personally, socially, and politically. But it would be hard for me to say how that’s influenced my work. But living in Austria, where tuition was reasonable, made it possible for me to get a master’s without crippling debt.

Are there artists or art works, in addition to the artists you’ve talked about, that have made a lasting impression on you? If so, has it influenced your thinking about art or the art you make?  This does not need to be limited to visual artists.

There have been plenty, some probably more apparent than others. I connect with a lot of the American artists from the 50s and 60s like Ryman, Twombly, Agnes Martin, and Sol LeWitt. But also painting that references itself—Bram Bogart, Jonathan Lasker, Pia Fries, Bernard Frieze, Mark Bradford, Wade Guyton, and so on.  But I’m also always drawn to Netherlandish painters like van Eyk and van der Weyden and Venetian Renaissance painters like Crivelli, Bellini, and Mantegna.

And the 1960s films of Jean-Luc Godard take up an unhealthy amount of my thoughts.

You’re also a musician.  Is there overlap between your music and your visual art practice?

I’ve thought about this, and the short version is that I don’t think there is much overlap. I’m happy to keep them as two separate streams.

Is your art actively influenced by thoughts, emotions or spirit in the moment of creation?  If so, how? Do current events or politics impact your creation?

That sounds like something an artist should say “yes” to…But honestly, emotion is not the first thing on my mind. But I can listen to, for example, a process piece by Steve Reich and have an emotional response. So I know that a work where the artist isn’t trying to convey specific emotions can actually evoke an emotional response. Similarly, I don’t see my work as reacting directly to current events and politics,… it’s not too hard to see some overlap with the dialog on fake news, disinformation, etcetera. But that’s not been the impetus for the work; my work deals with authenticity and communication

Many thanks to Michael Boring; view Michael’s work here, and in our ArtIsUnity Gallery.

Comment Here

Liz Menzie

Liz Menzie

Liz Menzie

I chose photography as my art form because it was the one I felt the most connected to. The act of taking a photo brings me back to being young, in Jamaica with my mom and family members. My mom would bring so many disposable cameras and we would take photos everywhere. Now, one of my favorite things to do with her is to look through those photos and relive those memories. With my art, I am hoping to recreate that experience but for the people yet to enter this world. I like to think I’m creating a visual archive of people in this time.

I actually love that the iPhone is powerful enough to take quality images and videos, especially because pursuing photography can be very expensive. I will say that I struggle a bit with Instagram and actually decreased my engagement on the app. As a photographer, I want to ensure that I am always shooting for the right reasons and shooting images that I will always care for. I think being on Instagram and having that desire for likes can send you down a path where you are solely posting just to post in hopes that you beat an unknown algorithm. I don’t want to get lost in that. As for the future of Instagram, I hope I’m wrong but, I don’t think it will be a place for photographers in the near future.

Do you think of yourself as an artist?

I do and it has not been long since I’ve considered myself one. It wasn’t until my first showing in November 2019 that I felt comfortable using the words artist and photographer. It was as if I needed permission. It’s interesting though because for me, showings do not define me and doesn’t dictate the art I make so it was kind of silly to wait until then to consider myself an artist.

Is creation planned, detailed, spontaneous, improvisational, reactive, proactive?

The creation of my images tends to be reactive. It is me reacting to what and who the universe presents to me in that very moment. I will say though, I’ve seen my art improve when I spent time thinking about the images I wanted to come home with. Doing so allowed me to waste less time capturing images I will not use and instead spending that time on ensuring I am in the right place to get the best shots.

Is there an artist or artists that have made a lasting impression on you?

For a long time, I did not have a favorite photographer who inspired me and my work until I stumbled upon the work of the late Gordon Parks. I love how he captured the story of Black children, men, and women during his time. What I appreciate the most about his images is that they appear effortless which I seek to emulate in my work. I am really impressed by art that says a lot without doing too much.

What did you study in school? Do you feel you have any advantages or disadvantages of not studying art in college? Is it relevant to your life today as a photographer? If so, how?

I studied Political Science and I honestly wouldn’t change it for the world. Being a Caribbean American woman, it was important for me to understand how certain legislations impact my Black people. Now, with my images I do find that I lean towards telling the stories of Black people and other minorities.

Though I am still happy with my major, 7 years later, I do wish I took visual art classes because being a self-taught photographer is not easy. There is so much I don’t know. For instance, I wouldn’t edit my images for a very long time because I did not know how to use Adobe Lightroom and Photoshop. During lockdown, I decided to purchase and start using both; tools that a trained photographer would’ve used during their first year at school. Another disadvantage to not studying art in college is not having a network of artists. I would argue that lacking that network is more difficult to manage than not having the technical skills necessary to be a good photographer.

Are there art movements, styles, and periods that you’re drawn?

This could be a result of me not studying art but no, I am not drawn to any movements or periods in history. I am drawn to the style of documentary photography where a story is being told about a subject we may not see highlighted in Western media. I believe this is why I travel so much! There are so many different people walking this planet, but we wouldn’t know it just by scrolling through our IG feeds and Netflix Top 10s. It’s important for me to share the experiences I’ve had when traveling so that others may know what other worlds exist outside of our little bubble.

What role does money/income play in your creation of art? Is your basic living income derived from your art?

I currently work as a Project Manager in the Finance industry. I will say it is a true luxury that I get to pursue my art the way I do, and I am grateful for it. Having a career outside of photography allows me to afford my livelihood, stripping away any pressure to create and monetize my art. That separation allows me to use my art as a form of escapism and a way to keep in touch with reality.

Though I have sold some prints, I currently do not use my art as a means of earning income. I am considering monetizing my art so it will be interesting to see how that plays a part in my creative process.  It is something that I am afraid of as I never want the desire or need to earn money to dictate what images I capture.

Do you apply for grants, fellowships? Do you apply for gallery shows and other exhibits? If so, what is the process like for you?

Yes! Anything that is free, and I feel is applicable to my art, I will apply to it. There are a few sites that I will sift through every now and then to see what opportunities are available. For someone like myself who wants to meet other creatives and share work beyond the scope of Instagram, I think fellowships and exhibits/showings are great opportunities.

What work or interests occupy you in addition to art?

Outside of photography and work, I enjoy yoga and reading. I’m currently learning Spanish and how to dance Salsa.

Many thanks to Liz Menzie; view her work here and see her in our ArtIsUnity Gallery

Comment Here