Grace & Harmony
by Alyssa Monks
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Dear Alyssa, Your paintings are hauntingly beautiful of colorful emotions and complex feelings. How long did it take you to achieve the level of perfection that we see in your work? Thank you, that’s great to hear. I started painting at about 8 years old and kept it up all through my adolescence. I think that helped me to get a familiarity with the materials and create a relationship with the medium. It also created an obsessive curiosity in me that led me to study with many different teachers and eventually to the NYAA where I did my graduate work. |
Photo: courtesy of the artist |
So about 30 years, although about half of that time I was in school and given some direction. The other half since grad school has been a different kind of education, following whatever grabs my curiosity and motivates me. Each idea comes with its own set of complications to research and figure out. It’s been important in my work to have those moments of problem-solving to stay very engaged with the process, and never let it get stale.
In addition to technique, what else is necessary to make mesmerizing art?
I agree that great art is not simply great technical skill. I like the word facility, instead. It implies an ease with the materials as instruments to do something with. Personally, for me, the skill, or facility, while a very powerful tool – is not an end unto itself.
I think of the thing I want to make and then learn the tools with which to make that thing – not the other way around. I think the word is vision. Vision is what is necessary for me to make something – a somewhat vivid, imaginative conception or anticipation of the thing before it’s made, and also a real need for it to actually be made.
Curiosity that surpasses my ego – the desire to experiment and push beyond what is expected or comfortable is really essential to stay engaged. Willingness to have a detached relationship with the object itself and its outcome helps a great deal. I shoot for a 30-60% success rate so I can push my ability and vision in places I am not sure what will actually work, but I still have a safety net of things I know will probably work. In other words, there must be willingness to still keep doing it even if it does not to go well. This is about humility and respect for the process of creating something. (It is about the process at the end of the day, not the outcome. That isn’t a cliché, but rather a very valuable concept. Personally, when I made that shift from focusing on process instead of outcome the work got a lot stronger.
The act of making something is an emotional roller coaster of love / hate / frustration / exhilaration / ecstasy / destruction / fascination that makes the whole thing worth it. The eventual painting that I make belongs to someone else who will have a whole other relationship with it. To me, it becomes a way to remember the days of making it, and how life was for me in those days. It is like a diary entry of a period in my life. The final painting often surprises me when I see one of my paintings later – so finished. I never linger very long with the finished paintings. I may be a little afraid to look too long at a finished painting that it might suck me and take me back in time.)
I also have a certain amount of unrelenting faith that eventually it will go well if I keep at it. And it doesn’t matter at all if it doesn’t anyway. I was never afraid to paint and fail. It isn’t about courage – it’s just a realization that there is absolutely nothing to lose, to be afraid of to begin with. I think this is because I started so young before my self-consciousness developed. My ego never got involved much with my painting practice.
It also takes concentration – very deliberate focus with no distractions. The ability to concentrate is often a skill in and of itself, as life gets more and more busy. And the most obvious things I need are: time and patience. It takes a lot of time for me to make something the way I want to. It takes 4 times as long as I think it should, no matter how much time I allow. So – vision, need for actualization, facility, detachment to outcome, humility, unrelenting faith, time, patience, concentration. Grit, basically.
In addition to technique, what else is necessary to make mesmerizing art?
I agree that great art is not simply great technical skill. I like the word facility, instead. It implies an ease with the materials as instruments to do something with. Personally, for me, the skill, or facility, while a very powerful tool – is not an end unto itself.
I think of the thing I want to make and then learn the tools with which to make that thing – not the other way around. I think the word is vision. Vision is what is necessary for me to make something – a somewhat vivid, imaginative conception or anticipation of the thing before it’s made, and also a real need for it to actually be made.
Curiosity that surpasses my ego – the desire to experiment and push beyond what is expected or comfortable is really essential to stay engaged. Willingness to have a detached relationship with the object itself and its outcome helps a great deal. I shoot for a 30-60% success rate so I can push my ability and vision in places I am not sure what will actually work, but I still have a safety net of things I know will probably work. In other words, there must be willingness to still keep doing it even if it does not to go well. This is about humility and respect for the process of creating something. (It is about the process at the end of the day, not the outcome. That isn’t a cliché, but rather a very valuable concept. Personally, when I made that shift from focusing on process instead of outcome the work got a lot stronger.
The act of making something is an emotional roller coaster of love / hate / frustration / exhilaration / ecstasy / destruction / fascination that makes the whole thing worth it. The eventual painting that I make belongs to someone else who will have a whole other relationship with it. To me, it becomes a way to remember the days of making it, and how life was for me in those days. It is like a diary entry of a period in my life. The final painting often surprises me when I see one of my paintings later – so finished. I never linger very long with the finished paintings. I may be a little afraid to look too long at a finished painting that it might suck me and take me back in time.)
I also have a certain amount of unrelenting faith that eventually it will go well if I keep at it. And it doesn’t matter at all if it doesn’t anyway. I was never afraid to paint and fail. It isn’t about courage – it’s just a realization that there is absolutely nothing to lose, to be afraid of to begin with. I think this is because I started so young before my self-consciousness developed. My ego never got involved much with my painting practice.
It also takes concentration – very deliberate focus with no distractions. The ability to concentrate is often a skill in and of itself, as life gets more and more busy. And the most obvious things I need are: time and patience. It takes a lot of time for me to make something the way I want to. It takes 4 times as long as I think it should, no matter how much time I allow. So – vision, need for actualization, facility, detachment to outcome, humility, unrelenting faith, time, patience, concentration. Grit, basically.
Being brave enough to face your vulnerabilities is something that cannot be learned empirically. From an artist’s perspective, why is it important to remain curious and not to shy or hide away from all we’re dealt in life?
It’s true we have, as people, an innate reflex to protect our vulnerabilities and often times we react with the “fight, flight or freeze” response when something feels threatening. I don’t think it’s a bad reflex, to be clear. I do think that when it comes to art-making, it is a very ripe place to go for research. I have found that it is in showing my vulnerability that I can deeply connect with others at a gut level, provided they are capable and willing to accept and reciprocate.
In my work, and it’s taken me 30 years to realize this and articulate it accurately, I think the underlying experience for those who enjoy my paintings is an experience of empathy. I hear very specific feedback from people who feel the work is about them, for them, of them. The painting seems to articulate what they feel. For me, this response is very interesting and satisfying because we usually practice empathy with a certain boundary to separate two people’s experiences and identities – and art removes that boundary. It becomes an open port for someone else to see his or her story through and connect to it, like a favorite song, without the identity of the artist attached.
The comradery created by empathic connection feels so comforting, validating, and empowering. To feel fully understood and validated is such an intense relief. And it isn’t possible without revealing some vulnerability, putting down our carefully curated masks and identities. (There is a caveat to this – one must be discriminating in who to expose vulnerability to and how much, an effort of empathy in itself.) In making my work, I am not actually bearing my deepest, darkest secrets, fears, desires, and painting from the gut 100%. The process for me has been one of introspection work and emotional processing that is done separately from the art making. I make some progress in my emotional/vulnerable life, and then I can access what I’ve learned and use it in constructing my work, from an objective, professional-like, expert-like perspective. I can’t work from the place of embodied vulnerability. It is too egoistic, fragile and self-conscious. I work from a place of having studied it with curiosity, respect, humility, kindness, and love – very objectively. This way I can have clarity with focus to avoid getting derailed or lost completely down the rabbit holes of some kind of “art therapy” project. Now, having some greater distance from my older paintings, I can see how vulnerable they look and feel, and it is kind of shocking to me. I did not feel vulnerable for a minute when painting them.
As an artist who has mastered traditional and non-traditional painting techniques, how do you see the role of technological progress affecting the way art is conceptualized, created, and consumed today? How would you describe nature’s role in your own creative journey?
I think there is an ebb and flow to most tendencies. We tend to vacillate between extremes looking for the best way but never settling in the middle. Small was very cool, then big is all the rage, then small again, etc. Such is technology and its effect on art making and consuming. I think the fascination with the convenience and ease of the machine made, screen interface, mediated experience that is overtaking our culture now will eventually lead to its contrasted and even finer appreciation for the human touch, the handmade, the personal experience. “IRL” will actually mean something very powerful, coveted, and have great value.
At this point many people are satisfied with the digital experience as a stand in for the face to face moment. People say they’ve “seen” a painting because they saw it on instagram at 3x3 inches on their phone. None one would say they’ve “seen” the David or the Mona Lisa if they weren’t there in person. The concept of “seeing” something right now is literal, but I think eventually the pendulum will swing back the other way and there will be a new appreciation for being in the presence of, not just seeing it on a screen. Fast food was the rage of the 80’s. Now it’s “slow food.” And fast food has a terrible rap. Hard to believe it was once practically the greatest invention of our time.
As far as using technology to make art I think it’s good…and it’s going to take some time for it to be great. As with any new tool, it takes some time to develop its potential. I think there is great possibility, as long as one isn’t resting on the convenience and ease instead of learning the basic skills of composition, proportional relationships, drawing. Also there is some danger of atrophy of the imagination muscle. I think its all fine though. We’ve gone through this before with photography. There will be hobbyists to varying levels of seriousness, and there will be artists who use the new technology as a tool and create something unique that will resonate. One danger I see in students working from photography is a lack of empathy for their subject. It’s too easy to objectify a photograph and miss the human presence, the living life that has to be felt in order to really empathize with it, and then bring that into the work.
It may be “easier” to get a painting to look like a photo more than ever with digital photography and projectors and canvas printers, etc. But what is the point if it has no soul? No resonance? No life? I think we will feel the difference and miss it. The pendulum will always swing back.
I allow a lot of time and attention lately for connecting with the people in my paintings. That connection must be present for me – it holds me to a standard. I feel it is a collaboration between us. Now this earthy landscape makes me stand up straight and pay attention to it with greater respect. The collaborating nature of the relationship informs the process. I need to feel that human connection in the process or it won’t ever feel real or true to me.
Do you have any go-to examples of how technology and art coming together provide the best escape from routine, monotony or even the craziness of it all?
To be honest, I don’t have much of a routine and there is no monotony in my life. I long for routine and monotony sometimes, but that isn’t how my life seems to be going. Each day has its own structure of projects to get done, things to do.
When I have a full painting day, or a few in a row – that is a totally separate kind of consciousness for me. It feels like I’m going into a different world for a while. The rules are different there. Time is different. The energy is different. I am pretty much always planning and prioritizing my schedule around creating those big blocks of time in the studio without distraction. Your question makes me wonder if there isn’t a better way to live so that we don’t want to escape. My gut tells me to stay when I want to leave.
What is your favorite part of the workshops you lead in New York and Europe throughout the year? What do you value the most from these experiences?
The people, for sure. I meet wonderful, open-minded, focused artists who are all so curious and eager to learn. It is a fantastic energy to be around. I think that is truly the best part. It reminds me of my own curiosity and fascination with the materials and really brightens up my attitude. I get perspective and objectivity from the students, which gives me new ideas and new curiosities to explore in my own work and studio practice. We have a lot of fun in the process of getting the work done together. They give so much.
What are some of the most intriguing details that catch your attention when you critique other artists’ works?
I am always curious to understand the relationship of the artist to his or her own work. While I look at the work I like to hear them talk to me about their intention, their struggle, their general attitude about the work they are doing. That always fascinates me.
The artists who are clearly out of their ego and totally wrapped up and swept up by their own curiosity and experimentation fascinate and excite me the most. No matter what the work looks like, I feel like they are tapping into something very fruitful, and at the very least they will have the momentum and energy to keep working a lot. With more and more work, there is more and more possibility.
I look for their enthusiasm, boldness, commitment, and fascination. I want to see them basically acting like they are in love with someone, but with paint and painting. They are the most available for conversation and feedback and discussing ideas. They usually have tons of work, lots of types of mediums, but everything feels very specific to their hand or vision. The vision may be uncertain and not fully formed, but it is definitely there. It has the artist, not the other way around. The artist is so wrapped up in it that they forget to be hard on themselves because they have work to do.
What are you most shocked by and why?
Being shocked by a piece of art or an artist is a wonderful feeling. It happens sometimes. Usually when something or someone is trying to be shocking, it isn’t. And its brash arrogance of thinking it can be very shocking is actually annoying. I don’t think shooting for a shock factor is a wise goal.
Shoot for greatness, innovation, creativity, flow, authenticity, integrity, conviction, fascination, awe, love. When I see all that in artwork I am shocked and moved and taken out of myself into a whole experience. That is great art.
Who are the people that make you hopeful about what’s to come?
When I meet and see people who are grateful, humble, and present to others, who practice empathy and compassion and try to make the world better for another person using that kind of empathic connection I mentioned – this makes me feel hopeful. I am inspired seeing people who are genuinely in love with their lives, present in their own life, even some of the time, or at least striving for that. When I see someone showing their heartache and allowing their heartache to humble them and change their life and attitude to one of gratitude and compassion, this is inspiring.
Meeting people who bring their whole essence into a room, uninhibited and unprotected - unafraid to be where they are, and still respect and honor others as well – this is a great inspiration.
Given all your achievements, your life experiences, trials and tribulations, one thing you’re confident about is…
Most of life is beyond my control. To try to fight that, is to cause myself and perhaps others pain or disappointment or pointless struggle. May as well marvel at what is here and accept it all, as much as I can.
It’s true we have, as people, an innate reflex to protect our vulnerabilities and often times we react with the “fight, flight or freeze” response when something feels threatening. I don’t think it’s a bad reflex, to be clear. I do think that when it comes to art-making, it is a very ripe place to go for research. I have found that it is in showing my vulnerability that I can deeply connect with others at a gut level, provided they are capable and willing to accept and reciprocate.
In my work, and it’s taken me 30 years to realize this and articulate it accurately, I think the underlying experience for those who enjoy my paintings is an experience of empathy. I hear very specific feedback from people who feel the work is about them, for them, of them. The painting seems to articulate what they feel. For me, this response is very interesting and satisfying because we usually practice empathy with a certain boundary to separate two people’s experiences and identities – and art removes that boundary. It becomes an open port for someone else to see his or her story through and connect to it, like a favorite song, without the identity of the artist attached.
The comradery created by empathic connection feels so comforting, validating, and empowering. To feel fully understood and validated is such an intense relief. And it isn’t possible without revealing some vulnerability, putting down our carefully curated masks and identities. (There is a caveat to this – one must be discriminating in who to expose vulnerability to and how much, an effort of empathy in itself.) In making my work, I am not actually bearing my deepest, darkest secrets, fears, desires, and painting from the gut 100%. The process for me has been one of introspection work and emotional processing that is done separately from the art making. I make some progress in my emotional/vulnerable life, and then I can access what I’ve learned and use it in constructing my work, from an objective, professional-like, expert-like perspective. I can’t work from the place of embodied vulnerability. It is too egoistic, fragile and self-conscious. I work from a place of having studied it with curiosity, respect, humility, kindness, and love – very objectively. This way I can have clarity with focus to avoid getting derailed or lost completely down the rabbit holes of some kind of “art therapy” project. Now, having some greater distance from my older paintings, I can see how vulnerable they look and feel, and it is kind of shocking to me. I did not feel vulnerable for a minute when painting them.
As an artist who has mastered traditional and non-traditional painting techniques, how do you see the role of technological progress affecting the way art is conceptualized, created, and consumed today? How would you describe nature’s role in your own creative journey?
I think there is an ebb and flow to most tendencies. We tend to vacillate between extremes looking for the best way but never settling in the middle. Small was very cool, then big is all the rage, then small again, etc. Such is technology and its effect on art making and consuming. I think the fascination with the convenience and ease of the machine made, screen interface, mediated experience that is overtaking our culture now will eventually lead to its contrasted and even finer appreciation for the human touch, the handmade, the personal experience. “IRL” will actually mean something very powerful, coveted, and have great value.
At this point many people are satisfied with the digital experience as a stand in for the face to face moment. People say they’ve “seen” a painting because they saw it on instagram at 3x3 inches on their phone. None one would say they’ve “seen” the David or the Mona Lisa if they weren’t there in person. The concept of “seeing” something right now is literal, but I think eventually the pendulum will swing back the other way and there will be a new appreciation for being in the presence of, not just seeing it on a screen. Fast food was the rage of the 80’s. Now it’s “slow food.” And fast food has a terrible rap. Hard to believe it was once practically the greatest invention of our time.
As far as using technology to make art I think it’s good…and it’s going to take some time for it to be great. As with any new tool, it takes some time to develop its potential. I think there is great possibility, as long as one isn’t resting on the convenience and ease instead of learning the basic skills of composition, proportional relationships, drawing. Also there is some danger of atrophy of the imagination muscle. I think its all fine though. We’ve gone through this before with photography. There will be hobbyists to varying levels of seriousness, and there will be artists who use the new technology as a tool and create something unique that will resonate. One danger I see in students working from photography is a lack of empathy for their subject. It’s too easy to objectify a photograph and miss the human presence, the living life that has to be felt in order to really empathize with it, and then bring that into the work.
It may be “easier” to get a painting to look like a photo more than ever with digital photography and projectors and canvas printers, etc. But what is the point if it has no soul? No resonance? No life? I think we will feel the difference and miss it. The pendulum will always swing back.
I allow a lot of time and attention lately for connecting with the people in my paintings. That connection must be present for me – it holds me to a standard. I feel it is a collaboration between us. Now this earthy landscape makes me stand up straight and pay attention to it with greater respect. The collaborating nature of the relationship informs the process. I need to feel that human connection in the process or it won’t ever feel real or true to me.
Do you have any go-to examples of how technology and art coming together provide the best escape from routine, monotony or even the craziness of it all?
To be honest, I don’t have much of a routine and there is no monotony in my life. I long for routine and monotony sometimes, but that isn’t how my life seems to be going. Each day has its own structure of projects to get done, things to do.
When I have a full painting day, or a few in a row – that is a totally separate kind of consciousness for me. It feels like I’m going into a different world for a while. The rules are different there. Time is different. The energy is different. I am pretty much always planning and prioritizing my schedule around creating those big blocks of time in the studio without distraction. Your question makes me wonder if there isn’t a better way to live so that we don’t want to escape. My gut tells me to stay when I want to leave.
What is your favorite part of the workshops you lead in New York and Europe throughout the year? What do you value the most from these experiences?
The people, for sure. I meet wonderful, open-minded, focused artists who are all so curious and eager to learn. It is a fantastic energy to be around. I think that is truly the best part. It reminds me of my own curiosity and fascination with the materials and really brightens up my attitude. I get perspective and objectivity from the students, which gives me new ideas and new curiosities to explore in my own work and studio practice. We have a lot of fun in the process of getting the work done together. They give so much.
What are some of the most intriguing details that catch your attention when you critique other artists’ works?
I am always curious to understand the relationship of the artist to his or her own work. While I look at the work I like to hear them talk to me about their intention, their struggle, their general attitude about the work they are doing. That always fascinates me.
The artists who are clearly out of their ego and totally wrapped up and swept up by their own curiosity and experimentation fascinate and excite me the most. No matter what the work looks like, I feel like they are tapping into something very fruitful, and at the very least they will have the momentum and energy to keep working a lot. With more and more work, there is more and more possibility.
I look for their enthusiasm, boldness, commitment, and fascination. I want to see them basically acting like they are in love with someone, but with paint and painting. They are the most available for conversation and feedback and discussing ideas. They usually have tons of work, lots of types of mediums, but everything feels very specific to their hand or vision. The vision may be uncertain and not fully formed, but it is definitely there. It has the artist, not the other way around. The artist is so wrapped up in it that they forget to be hard on themselves because they have work to do.
What are you most shocked by and why?
Being shocked by a piece of art or an artist is a wonderful feeling. It happens sometimes. Usually when something or someone is trying to be shocking, it isn’t. And its brash arrogance of thinking it can be very shocking is actually annoying. I don’t think shooting for a shock factor is a wise goal.
Shoot for greatness, innovation, creativity, flow, authenticity, integrity, conviction, fascination, awe, love. When I see all that in artwork I am shocked and moved and taken out of myself into a whole experience. That is great art.
Who are the people that make you hopeful about what’s to come?
When I meet and see people who are grateful, humble, and present to others, who practice empathy and compassion and try to make the world better for another person using that kind of empathic connection I mentioned – this makes me feel hopeful. I am inspired seeing people who are genuinely in love with their lives, present in their own life, even some of the time, or at least striving for that. When I see someone showing their heartache and allowing their heartache to humble them and change their life and attitude to one of gratitude and compassion, this is inspiring.
Meeting people who bring their whole essence into a room, uninhibited and unprotected - unafraid to be where they are, and still respect and honor others as well – this is a great inspiration.
Given all your achievements, your life experiences, trials and tribulations, one thing you’re confident about is…
Most of life is beyond my control. To try to fight that, is to cause myself and perhaps others pain or disappointment or pointless struggle. May as well marvel at what is here and accept it all, as much as I can.