Tell us a little bit about yourself and what you do.

I’m from a small town in Tennessee, and now I live in Chicago. Right now I live within walking distance of my job and studio, which I am grateful for. I love my small social worlds, and certainly mythologize them.

I can easily make things into lessons. I have a lot of realizations, and subsequent desires to change how I live. These things feel little-kidish but have served me well so far. 

I also write, sew, and play music, but painting is the best of what I do. It’s what I’ll focus on here.

Is there anything you’re working on right now that you’re really excited about?

I am putting together a solo show at Saw Horse to open this spring. The paintings are of castles and princesses. Working on them has made my winter great. 

How were you introduced to the mediums you work with?

I painted acrylics and watercolor in high school which was fine, but learned oils in college which I loved a lot more. 

What influences do you think play an essential role in your work?

I grew up Catholic which made me willing to suffer and good at waiting. These traits make painting easier.

I love writing things out, and I have great half-cursive handwriting. All of my lines look like it. 

I also used to wear a lot of makeup and would spend a long time blending everything out. There’s a dissonance between how makeup is supposed to look and how it actually looks on your skin when you get out into the sunlight. That bothers me so much. I think it made me take extra care in my painting surfaces and how my work looks in real life vs. what photographs well.

Who do you think is making important work right now?

I’ve been reading about Stuckism recently, the movement for “contemporary figure painting with ideas.” It was founded in the 90s and is against the pretensions of conceptual art; anti-anti art.

I am not a complete believer, but parts of Stuckism’s manifesto resonate with me. They say that artwork is made in the quest for authenticity, and that painting is the medium of self-discovery. “It is the duty of the artist to explore their own neurosis and innocence… the stuckist gives up the laborious task of playing games of novelty, shock, and gimmick.”

I think it’s obvious that anyone who can overcome the desire to play such games is making the most important work. 

How has your work evolved over time?

I used to make lots of fiber work, writings, and performances where I was working through emotional things and my past. My first paintings were also about things, like I would paint a poodle and say it was a painting about kitsch, or candles, or about the pursuit of love. I believe this was all necessary.

Then I realized painting is a unique beast and can have different rules than other works of art.

I made a lot of symmetry paintings, where I would make one side of the image entirely and then its opposite inverse. I liked that the different sides were slightly off. I remember saying my paintings were about “two-ness” at that time. After college I made paintings that had figures repeated more than twice, or entire irregular patterns. Then I got interested in implying that the picture keeps going outside the frame of my painting, and using small indicators to show where we are in a confusing space.

I am still always working through something in my life consciously and vocally. But I don’t need it to be said so plainly in my paintings.

Do you find a lot of your work to be historically referential?

My work has more to do with popular, general imagination than purposeful references. I know very little about the world and assume the same in other people.

Is there anything you’re reading or watching right now that feels important to what you’re doing?

I’m just now finishing up a long stay at my parents’ house, and I watched a lot of the MeTV network with them. Mostly shows from the 60’s and 70’s. So many are set in fancy homes where there’s moonlight shining through the window, and it’s done by a light blue screen outside. Or on the Lawrence Welk Show there’s always a perfect gradient background behind the band, and it has the word “Geritol” right in the middle of it (to advertise an iron supplement at the time). It’s just so good.

I loved this era of TV as a kid too. I showed a friend the Lawrence Welk show and she said it explained a lot about what I seem to think life is like.

Can you tell us about your primary subject matter and why that is?

I paint animals, curtains, golden rings, spots, frames, ribbons, decorations, balls, fences, steel rods, pillars, reflections, and bridges.

I honor my impulses which take me to different places. People have said my work looks like toys or has something to do with childhood. I roll with it, though it’s truly not a conscious effort. The bright colors and simplified shapes are just coincidences of my taste.

What I am conscious of are spatial tricks. My images are usually very flat but with one thing that implies depth, like a curtain with exaggerated perspective.

I wish I could remember which artist said a painting’s subject matter is “just a thing to hang your marks on.” When I make a painting, I add things because they would make the picture visually complete and not for any intended meaning. After I’m done with my show I want to make a Christmas painting.

Does your environment influence your work?

It must, because I always choose the same kind of studios. I work best in my own home or a place that looks like a home. I like it to have character.

Do you think your work takes on different contexts when shown in different areas of the world?

I have only shown abroad once, and it made me feel a little shy. Maybe it’s because that popular imagination I’ve referred to is actually distinctly American, and other parts of the world have their own aesthetics. But I know there’s nothing wrong with that. 

What was the last show you saw that stuck out to you?

Recess Gallery put on a show called Polly this past November curated by Julia Marks. That gallery is a single wood paneled room. This informs everything and makes colors more beautiful. There was a red chinese lantern with a long string attached and at the end was a little glued-on bead, I thought it looked like a cheap pair of earbuds. There was a collage mounted on a cabinet door and every glued down piece was outlined in pen. It’s hard to describe. Another artist was showing handmade hats and everyone was running around wearing them. It was wonderful.

What is it that you think might initially draw you towards a work of art?

Unexpected, tasteful use of color.

Do you have any rituals when entering the studio?

I keep a jar of peanut butter in the studio so I usually eat some of that, or an apple if I brought one. I also like to Facetime someone as I’m entering and getting set up.

What is something that you’ve always wanted to do and are working towards achieving?

Almost all of my daydreams are about performing. I have had an inherited accordion in my possession for years and started playing it seriously last spring.  I took group lessons in the city which led me to a week long intensive in France. It was a bit beyond my logical reach but I’m proud of having done it. My journey has been very fast and I’ve been saying yes to every opportunity to play. I’ve performed solo a few times but only one song at a time. I want to get comfortable enough to busk and do entire sets. 

Sometimes I think about writing songs, though I am not a strong singer so it wouldn’t be for myself. I think singers and songwriters are wonderful, they just shine, and that if you have some kind of message for the masses that it is best communicated in song.

For now I really like participating in other people’s music projects.

Can you tell us a memory of someone interacting with your work that frequently crosses your mind?

Early in college a professor told me, “It’s moving to see you paint in so much detail only to smooth it completely out every time.” It was the moment I realized someone could make assumptions about me based on my work. This one was correct – I was a self conscious student making self conscious moves. It was exciting proof that a person’s real spirit can become manifest on the canvas. It helps me believe in painting.

Interview edited by Paul Fitzpatrick