Tell us a little bit about yourself and what you do.
My name is Nicolina Morra and I was born on Long Island in 2003. My family moved to Florida when I was young, but now I’m back in New York living and working in Brooklyn. I am an artist that makes paintings about longing for something more. I don’t drink enough water but I want to start.
What kind of imagery are you drawn to?
I have numerous folders on my computer filled with images that I may want to incorporate into my paintings. My “UFO” folder is the largest right now, and I only started it a little over a year ago. I have one for cults, Marian apparitions, flowers, Elvis, crop circles, Beanie Babies, and the list goes on. What draws me to an image is its potential to sit at an intersection of evidence and belief, of the sublime and the mundane, of transcendence and fear, of desire and the unknowable.
It’s hard for me to identify exactly what triggers that recognition. I keep coming back to something Patti Smith observed about Robert Mapplethorpe and the way he would use the word magic to describe a successful piece of work: this is the one with magic. I guess I just try to find the things with magic.
Can you tell us about something that continues to influence your work?
Catholic Grandmas. Wanting to Believe. The Sky.
Your paintings evoke the visual language of photography but are nearly all oil on canvas. This creates a tension where we might think of them as reproductions of reproductions but are also able to see the materials of their making. It’s a confounding and productive interplay for the viewer to sit with. When did you start incorporating photographic references into your painting?
I’ve always worked from photographs. I grew up online with a constant flow of images, and I think that’s just how my brain learned to see and make art. There’s something about that experience of endlessly scrolling and curating, of pulling images out of context and saving them somewhere personal, that has followed me into how I work in the studio now. Photographs as source material have always felt natural and almost unavoidable.
Does nostalgia play a role in your work?
A lot of my paintings contain imagery that evokes nostalgia, and I do play with it in my work. For me it’s a subset of longing as a general condition, that sense of reaching for something just out of grasp. I think Beanie Babies are the most prominent example of nostalgic imagery in my paintings. I really love when people get excited when they recognize their childhood toy, but I think what interests me most is what was once projected onto them: a collective hope and almost worshipful belief that they would one day be worth something. Believing something is there when it isn’t, but wanting it to be so badly. Belief perseverance. I play with the same idea through red circles in my work, letting them act as evidence of nothing.
What is like living and working in New York?
Ask me again once the disenchantment has set in.
What is something you’ve always wanted to do and are working towards achieving?
Levitating.
What was the last art show you saw that stuck out to you?
I really loved Nina Hartmann’s show at Silke Linder, every recent show at IRL Gallery, and of course Gerhard Richter at David Zwirner.
What have you been reading or watching recently?
I just finished American Cosmic by Diana Pasulka, and am in the middle of Flying Saucers by Carl Jung. Currently on the hunt for my next UFO book.
Could you share some recent, current, or upcoming projects you’re working on?
I’m currently in two three-person shows. One is called ‘Sweet Surrender’ at Enari Gallery in Amsterdam, and the other is called ‘Thief of Joy’ in the Lower East Side and was put together by Harsh Collective. I have more shows planned for this September in NYC that I absolutely cannot wait for.
What do you collect?
Espresso cups, images, songs, and secrets.
Interview by Paul Fitzpatrick