Page 20 - Winter Issue

Your paintings feature recurring motifs like fish, teeth, shooting stars, and houses. Can you share the
personal significance of each, and how they serve as symbols in your work?
In May 2023 I was undergoing drastic change and creating art. College was coming to an end, two major relationships
in my life shifted drastically, and above all, I was preparing to move to a new country alone. I was also producing a lot
of artwork, doodling, taking photos, and working on a stained glass piece. Especially in my drawings a series of
symbols emerged and recurred until I was drawing them in a way that reflected my artistic style. The fish, rabbit,
house, and tooth, among other motifs, became familiar visuals that I would draw at the top of my notes or render in
glass to cast protection and comfort I was creating.
Your work is deeply inspired by children’s art. What aspects of children's creativity or perception of the
world do you try to capture in your paintings?
I worked as an assistant in a community mural organization called Kulturelia two years ago. I assisted in facilitating
neighborhood murals in and around Paris. The murals were often filled with children’s paintings, and I was always
inspired by the kid’s approach to the wall. There was absolute liberty and confidence in the way children would paint.
Every choice, from color to shape felt like an experiment and I rarely witnessed doubt or questioning regarding what
would be created. I try to approach color that way and experiment with forms and materials in my painting.
Surrealism often allows artists to access deeper, sometimes unsettling truths. What draws you to
surreal environments, and how do they enable you to confront self-reflection?
My painting titled Shiny Things Make Me Cry is a good example of self-reflection, a surreal environment, and unsettling
truths. The portrait and apples are based on pictures I took and I developed the composition with the portrait as the
focal point. I aim to only have a couple of realistic figures in each painting and aim for ambiguity in the animals, space,
or objects that complete the rest of the piece. In Shiny Things, the dog and the shadows, for instance, were my final
touches to the painting. As I aimed to make something visually pleasing based on a selfie of me crying, I developed a
personal narrative of facades in the painting. Masking something sad with something visually pleasing, something
rotten (the apples) with something shiny (the painting of apples), or something violent (the dog) with something that
can’t harm (shadow puppets) made sense to me because of the evolution of self I felt I was undergoing in my own life
at the time. I doubt the same narrative jumps forward for someone seeing the painting for the first time, but the
presence of the fish, and the apples in the painting once again marks the personal, tumultuous narrative with familiar,
comforting motifs. In short, self-reflection emerges during the painting process, but I’ve developed a visual language
that requires confrontation of self that always results in a collage-like composition of bizarre motifs, ambiguous
animals, and recognizable figures.
How does the history or texture of a found canvas influence a new piece?
I paint found canvases because new canvases are too expensive, but I do find that painting onto an abandoned canvas
does a few important things for my process. First, it takes the pressure off of starting something entirely new. Second,
because I’m often painting on top of an image printed on canvas, I feel like the painting I make is part of a much larger
narrative that I’m contributing to now and I imagine others could one day contribute to as well.
There’s a clear interplay between vibrant colors and dark, sometimes sinister undertones in your work.
What motivates this contrast, and how do you see it impacting the viewers?
The process of creating something I find visually satisfying and narratively compelling often results in a balance
between bright colors and unsettling visuals. By working with intense colors I aim to bridge the gap between the figures
on the canvas and the emotions the paintings evoke. I’m happy the contrast between dark undertones and bright
colors is visually evident, and I always hope my work sparks curiosity if not a more personal emotion in the viewer.
You mentioned painting as a way to explore “dark and vulnerable” parts of yourself. Could you talk
about any specific personal experiences or reflections that have shaped this aspect?
My painting practice is process-based in that as I develop a work, I grow more attached to the narrative that unfolds.
When painting realistic figures, I tend to depict moments of great change or emotion–my best friend after surgery, and
my crying face when I prepared to move out of my apartment in France. Pairing those real moments with recognizable
motifs, or imagined environments draws out a new narrative, one that often demands self-reflection. Suddenly that
crying selfie is in conversation with a pile of ridiculously shiny apples I pass by at the market on my way to work every
day. My moment of change comes into conversation with my daily routine. The vulnerable part of myself revealed
through my work appears not only in the recognizably dark or unsettling imagery but in the process of making the
work as well.

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