Lena Schmid

BIO

Lena Schmid (b.1985) paintings explore the kind of slow, strange change experienced in a space long inhabited: be it a body, a well known landscape, or the cosmos. She holds an MFA from Hunter College and a BFA from the Massachusetts College of Art and Design. Lena’s work has been included in exhibitions at New Release Gallery and the SPRING/BREAK Art Fair. She has held multiple Artist in Residence positions, including at the Arrowmont School of Arts and Crafts, the TIDES Institute, and the Wassaic Projects, where she was a 2018/19 Education Fellow. In 2020, Lena was awarded a Printmaking Fellowship from the New York Foundation for the Arts.

ARTIST STATEMENT

These painting are made on silk using dyes. They explore how the poetics and physics of time functions as a physical force by blurring the line between sensation and emotion, body and space, time and object. Descended from one continuously manipulated drawing, the paintings employ cleaving imagery, movement without discernible speed and richly textured surfaces. They evoke the multiplicity, being both generative and degenerative, bodily and alien, sensuous and threatening. Referring to bodies and scapes in a state of slow, strange change, they open and close, blush and flush, leak and drain, burn and cast light. The transparent nature of silk physically links the paintings to the passage of time, as they shift from opaque to transparent in differing light conditions. Never static, they shudder in the slightest breeze and pulse optically when viewed at varying distances. Not a metaphor or a likeness, they are the thing itself: both temporal and other-worldly, offering an escape from, and explanation for, the nature of time.

Interview with Lena Schmid

Can you tell us a bit about your background and how you became interested in becoming an artist? Who or what were some of your most important early influences?

When I was 19, I started taking art classes at my local community college, which changed my conception of myself and of the possibilities for my life. I had never wanted to work hard at anything before, and through the discipline of art-making I found a way to connect to my inner self and a structure to function within. I had some great professors there and at MassArt, where I completed my undergraduate degree, who were very encouraging and permissive. My early favorite artists were abstract expressionists: Franz Kline, Joan Mitchell, Kazuo Shiraga. I loved and love a big bodily gesture.

Where are you currently based and what initially brought you there? Are there any aspects of this specific location or community that have inspired your work?

I have been bouncing around for the past few years from Brooklyn to Western Massachusetts, to Tennessee, to upstate NY, and now Providence, RI. These moves were fueled by many things: the pandemic, family responsibilities, studio access, employment opportunities and a growing necessity to live in a place where I can drive. I have a chronic health condition that makes it difficult to walk or stand for long periods of time and commuting in NYC left me with very little energy for anything else. I just recently arrived in Providence, and I am excited to explore the city and find community here.

The last place I called home for any significant period of time was Gatlinburg, TN, where I spent a year living at the Arrowmont School of Arts and Crafts as an Artist in Residence. Here, I had access to specialized equipment for steaming large silk paintings, which opened up the practice of painting with dyes. Before this, I was frustrated with the constraints of working with dyes that needed to be mixed, timed and set according to precise processes. Using the vertical steamers allowed me to work on pieces for extended periods of time, to develop rich layers and textures, and allowed me to work with much more fluidity.

Can you describe your studio space? What are some of the most crucial aspects of a studio that make it functional? Do any of these specific aspects directly affect your work?

My work is iterative and inter-related, so I like to have previous pieces hanging in my studio. This allows me to examine what worked or what didn’t work about a particular painting, to plan for the next piece, and to consider how the subsequent work will relate to it. I am always shuffling my studio around, so ease and efficiency of work-flow is important to me. I like to maximize my space and time, which for me means creating a large, flexible work space, and systems of material, tool and work storage that are easy to maintain. I draw inspiration from my drawing practice, so reference drawings are constantly cycling on and off the walls. I also make a lot of lists- lists about concepts I am considering, music to listen to, qualities about the paintings, an interesting turn of phrase, poetry lines, etc. These lists don’t live in a notebook- they live on the walls of my studio, so I don’t forget about them, and so I can soak in them while working. I am informed by my immediate experience: what I see, touch, and feel goes directly into the work. Additionally, the quality of light is important to me. My studio has natural light and is also lit by halogen bulbs. I love warm light. My work flow is also designed around my physical limitations. As much as possible, I set up my studio in a way that does not remind me of or exacerbate my pain- I work at a comfortable counter-top height and everything is on wheels for ease of movement.

What is a typical day like? If you don't have a typical day, what is an ideal day?

On a typical studio day I get up, go swimming, eat breakfast, and get to the studio by 8:30 am. I like to play my guitar for ten minutes or so to shift my energy before I start painting. I make a list of things I want to focus on that day, including both tasks to complete and ideas/qualities to hold onto. I warm up my hand by drawing for a bit. I try to clean the studio the night before, so I am ready to start working right away. The morning is my best time, when I am the most open, so I don’t like to waste that energy on menial tasks or decisions. While working, I alternate between listening to music, audiobooks, and white noise in my headphones. I find white noise to be incredibly helpful when I am painting with dyes. There is no possibility for erasure, and one piece takes up to a month to make, so it requires intense, unbroken focus and attention. White noise helps me to ignore everything except the task at hand (my favorite one to listen to is called “celestial white noise” but it is definitely just an audio recording of a box fan). I usually have an early dinner around 6, and then wrap up/clean up the space. If this is an *ideal day*, I play music with friends in the evening and am in bed by 10.

What gets you in a creative groove or flow? Are snacks involved? ☺

I have lots of guidelines for myself in the studio that allow me to get into a creative flow. I turn my ringer off, and put my phone out of sight, so I’m not tempted to touch it. I wear noise cancelling headphones, sometimes even without anything playing- the way they dampen the environment makes it easier to focus. I try and prepare meals in advance, so my brain doesn’t have to do any extra work of deciding when and what to eat. I am *very* food focused, and having tasty meals that I am looking forward to eating is essential. Listening to or playing music shifts my energy from my mind into my body- allowing me to be present. I try to not make any other plans on the days I am in the studio- I like having the full possibility of the day available.

Is there anything that interrupts and stagnates your creative energy?

I am very internally-focused and private in the studio- so interruptions are difficult for me. As someone with ADHD, I am highly attuned to my surroundings and it is hard to work when I am aware of other people around me, especially when the possibility of intrusion is on the table. My worst nightmare is someone saying, “I might stop by your studio sometime today.” Physical pain also stagnates my creative energy- I have learned to live with a certain level of pain in my daily life, but when it is elevated, it can be too hard to work.

How do you select materials? How long have you worked with this particular media or method?

Historically, I have worked primarily on paper. I love the immediacy of drawing and the physicality of touch and mark making. Currently, I make paintings on silk using dyes, which is a natural extension of my drawing practice. Similar to working on paper, painting on silk uses the luminosity of the substrate to create an image. Initially, I started working with silk and dyes for two reasons: One, I wanted to be able to play with the object-hood of my work in a way that paper doesn’t lend itself to. The silk paintings have such a different presence- they move in the slightest breeze and change appearance radically depending upon the quality and directionality of light. Two, I wanted a substrate that had similar surface properties as paper, but would be more forgiving to move and store. Surface is very important to me, and materials move on silk in a way that is similar to paper. Silk painting is

Can you walk us through your overall process? How long has this approach been a part of your practice?

I start by drawing by hand and then scanning and manipulating these drawings in photoshop. My current body of work stems from one drawing that I have been continuously manipulating for a couple years. Once I’ve refined the drawing, I trace it to simplify the forms and get the geometry right. I project it onto a stretched piece of silk. I look at the scale of the forms and make further adjustments. Then I draw the forms onto the silk using a marker with disappearing ink. If I am working with an image that require masking, I also project and cut the masks out of frisket film. After this, the stretcher gets legs attached which bring it up to counter-top height. First, I paint with dye mixed with a paste-like resist. I paint and pipe the dyed resist with brushes and also a tool called an air pen which is a syringe attached to a small air compressor which allows me to make fine lines. When the resist is dried, I set it with a hair dryer and then apply fluid dye around the areas of painted resist. All of my dyes are custom mixed. I combine colors, and mix in a variety of agents that change the way the dyes move and flow, and also the amount of time they remain wet for. I let this sit for 24 hours, then roll the painting in newsprint and put it in the vertical steamer for two hours which is what sets the dye. Then, I rinse out the excess dye, iron it, and stretch it again for the next layer. I repeat this process two or three times before the painting is done.

I have been experimenting with painting with dyes on and off for the past five years, but only recently have I started to get a handle on the process and its variables. Working with dyes can be confounding, because there is no erasure and pieces look different after they have been steam set and rinsed, so you really have to know your variables. I have a lot of color charts that I reference.

Can you talk about some of the ongoing interests, imagery, and concepts that have informed your process and body of work over time? How do you anticipate your work progressing in the future?

I am largely interested in the body, time, touch, texture, light, physical pain, outer space, and slow, strange change. These interests have been ongoing for a least a decade, but manifest in different ways. Currently, I am exploring how the poetics and physics of time function as a physical force by using imagery and materials that blur the line between sensation and emotion, body and space, time and object. My current body of work is descended from one continuously manipulated drawing, with paintings that employ cleaving imagery, movement without discernible speed, and richly textured surfaces. I am interested in how I can change and shift the drawing to speak about a body’s experience of both deep time and sensorial experience. As such, the paintings blush and flush, open and close, leak and drain, burn and cast light. I love a magical surface, and silk is the most magical substrate I have worked with yet. Once I have washed out the excess dye and resist, there is no hand to the pieces, all of the color, texture and imagery has become a part of the cloth through dye chemistry.

As difficult as the process of painting with dyes can be, the end result is so wild when it works. The paintings on silk are mercurial and a have direct relationship to the passage of time, as they shift from opaque to transparent in differing light conditions. They move in the slightest breeze and pulse optically when viewed at varying distances. This interest in optical painting is new for me. If you had told me ten years ago that I would be interested in Op Art, I would have laughed in your face. But now, I love how optical performance gives the pieces another layer of movement, and a way for the viewer’s body to accord with them. For a long time, I have been after the idea of making paintings that are not a metaphor or a likeness, but are the thing itself. I think the optical elements of these paintings touches on that- it gives them another way to move, perform and be. Like the paintings are staring back.

Every time I make a painting, I learn more about the material potential of silk and dyes, which still feels very new to me. I am excited to play more with the sculptural potential of the silk - how the paintings can interact with different architecture and lighting situations. I am also in the process of designing seating that will accompany the paintings, allowing all people, but especially those with mobility issues to rest and enjoy the work for as long as they like when it is exhibited.

Do you pursue any collaborations, projects, or careers in addition to your studio practice? If so, can you tell us more about those projects, and are there connections between your studio practice and these endeavors?

Yes! I am a musician, and my songwriting practice is linked to my visual art. Often, my songs relate directly to my paintings in their form and lyrics: sharing themes of longing, escapism, the passage of time, chronic pain, and leaving one’s body. When things aren’t going well in the studio, I often play music and write. Songwriting provides me with a different kind of window into my thoughts and priorities- it can help reveal something I was circling around in my painting practice. I am not as good of a musician as I am a visual artist, and that means there are fewer places to hide.

I write independently and also as part of a long-running musical collaboration with the musician Vanessa Kerby. Our current project, Country Party Band, is releasing our first album, Sad Songs Only, featuring recordings made over two days in spring of 2021. It is all live-band recordings, done at the storied Dreamaway Lodge in Becket, Massachusetts. Because of the pandemic, we were only able to practice a handful of times, and the album is rough and raw and full of feeling.

Have you had any epiphanies recently that have changed the course of your work or caused you to shift directions?

I only recently became aware of the importance of my paintings’ linked lineage to one another. My current work functions in part as a body in a state of change, one that is constantly flexing and shifting. While this interrelatedness has always been important to me in my studio practice, with one painting directly informing the next, only now am I starting to understand how that practice functions in terms of the content of the work. This is not an insight that has changed the way I work, but instead has changed how I understand it.

As a result of the pandemic, many artists have experienced limited access to their studios or loss of exhibitions, income, or other opportunities. Has your way of working (or not working) shifted significantly during this time? Are there unexpected insights or particular challenges you’ve experienced?

I have chronic health issues and at the start of the pandemic, I lost access to all of my health care providers (a team that took me years to find) and haven’t been able to establish a care network since. This has had a significant impact on my quality of life, as my pain levels have increased and my mobility has decreased. However, losing access to healthcare freed up time and space and allowed me refocus on my studio practice and career.

Can you share some of your recent influences? Are there specific works—from visual art, literature, film, or music—that are important to you?

I am a voracious consumer of music- what I am listening to greatly affects my work. This past year I was listening to a lot of Linda Perhacs, Ed Askew, Josephine Foster, Buffy Sainte-Marie, Richard Thompson and Judee Sill. I’m interested in this kind of intimate, nature-infused, confessional, psychedelic folk. Especially Ed Askew- who writes and plays with such immense tenderness you can feel his body sing. His songs are reverence at its best- moments of daily, bodily life, expanded and touched from all sides.

All of my work is titled after what I am listening to. This is a practice I adopted maybe five years ago. It acknowledges the relationship between my listening practice and my painting practice, and allows me to never be at loss for a title.

I also watched a bunch of Werner Herzog’s documentaries this year. I was especially enchanted by Encounters at the End of the World, Into the Inferno, and The Wild Blue Yonder. I think this means I am a sucker for nature documentaries where the subject is actually the absurdity of human behavior.

Who are some contemporary artists you’re excited about? What are the best exhibitions you’ve seen in recent memory and why do they stand out?

I recently saw work by the artist, Jovencio de la Paz, whose black and white geometric weavings blew my mind with their optical tricks- they were the bounciest pieces I’ve ever seen. I love the work of artists who are blending the language of painting and textiles: Katerina Riesing, Anthony Akinbola, Julia Bland, and Lena Kolb. Also there are just so many seriously great cosmic surfaces to salivate over: Emily Furr, Loie Hollowell, Alex Jackson, Jenny Morgan and Richard Tinkler to name a few. Sarah Creagan’s drawings that address chronic illness with humor, wit, and lots of flying hair are some of my favorites.

Do you have any tips or advice that someone has shared with you that you have found particularly helpful?

While in undergraduate at MassArt, my professor Peter Wayne Lewis advised me that painting is found, “in the doing,” which has been a grounding principle ever since.

What are you working on in the studio right now? What’s coming up next for you?

In the studio, I am refining and developing a new set of drawings to use as source material for the paintings on silk. After continuously manipulating the same drawing for two years, I was beginning to feel like it has both endless potential, and also that I need something new to work from. Additionally, I am experimenting with my color palette within the dyes, to give myself a wider breadth of language. This fall, I have some paintings included in the group show, Shadow Work, at A.P.E. Gallery in Massachusetts, curated by A.J. Rombach. I am also looking forward to an upcoming residency at the Women’s Studio Workshop, focused on printmaking with dyes.

To find out more about Lena Schmid check out her Instagram and website.