 |
| A Consolation, acrylic on panel, 12 inches x 18 inches, 2022. |
Part 39 of an interview series in which artists reply to the same six questions. Anna Wetzel Artz is an artist and educator based in the Seattle area. Her visual art, inspired by nature and landscape, consists of accumulations of beautifully spare and sensitive marks that suggest natural forms while retaining a keen semi-abstract sensibility. You can see more of her work here. Other interviews on this blog are available here.
Philip Hartigan: What medium/media do you chiefly use, and why?
Anna Wetzel Artz: I move back and forth between painting and drawing, mostly acrylic on panel and ink or colored pencil on paper. I’m interested in creating layers of expressive marks that evoke natural textures and landscapes, and appreciate materials that dry quickly and allow me to attend to several pieces simultaneously.
I also create out of my home studio, working around teaching and parenting roles, so it helps to have a rhythm of switching between wet and dry media for cycles of quicker clean-up here and there.
AW: Right now I’m working on a series of drawings on paper, Dialogues, that have been informed by collaboration with my two preschool-aged daughters.
Compelled by the tension between mothering young children and retreating into the studio to create my “serious” work, for one dedicated month this year I intensively integrated mark-making into parenting life, with the goal of enriching both roles. The resulting works are a dialogue between my daughters and my practice, and a path toward creative survival in this season of life.
 |
| Dialogue IV (Whidbey Island), colored pencil on paper, 22 x 30 inches, 2022 |
PH: What creative surprises are happening in the current work?
AW: First, I’ve been pleasantly surprised at how successful the integrative experiment has been. What was meant to be a short-term project has proven to be a rhythm I can incorporate regularly into my studio practice.
Prior to this, I maintained quite clear boundaries between the two spaces, concerned that I couldn’t adequately focus on art-making while around my small children. I did not bring drawing materials along on our family outings. I did not start a painting at the kitchen table while they drew on big swaths of paper on the wood floor. I parented while I parented, and I made art when I could get alone in the studio.
But through this purposeful integration of parenting and creating, I blurred the boundaries and found a powerful opportunity to keep my mark-making fresh and ready, even when I wasn’t able to get properly “into the studio.” I took the sketchbook to the beach on day trips. I began working on my drawings at the kitchen table, prepared for and ready to accept an errant scribble or spill. My mantra became, “No mark is wasted in this process,” and I found a new determination to let my studio practice spill over into the everyday.
I don’t pretend I’m the first artist to make this discovery--indeed, it was through the prompting of communities like the Artist/Mother network that I felt encouraged to emulate this approach. Imogen Cunningham’s 1957 image of Ruth Asawa working alongside her children has captivated me for years, and for the first time I felt that I could really step into that example.
The other big creative surprise has been finding such a deep mine of formal inspiration in these collaborative drawings with my children. As an elementary art teacher, I should never be surprised by the stunning images that young kids create. And yet, the purity of color choice, composition, and mark-making generated by my 5- and 2-year-old just blew me away (especially when translated to a larger scale, with artist-grade paper and pigment). I long to imitate just a fraction of that dazzling freedom.
AW: The spiritual and emotional nourishment I receive from being in nature is probably the biggest driver of my creative process, not to mention the fact that textures from the forest floor, tree bark, and the coastline constantly find their way into my work. My family hikes and visits the beach frequently, rain or shine! Where I live in the Pacific Northwest we are so easily confronted with stunning wilderness: it is beautiful and so generously accessible.
I don’t make it happen as often, but reading poetry also feeds my process, especially that which attempts to contain the mystery of place and belonging. I read David Whyte’s essay collection Consolations throughout the production of my last series, and felt so at home.
 |
| There Is A Certain Quietness, acrylic on panel, 12 x 16 inches, 2022 |
PH: What's the first ever piece of art you remember making?
AW: I had a really profound art education experience when I was about five years old. The result was a collaged brooch, made with mod podge and plastic gems. But the context is what made it so memorable. My parents had signed me up for classes at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City, Missouri, and I remember being so captivated by the neoclassical building and commanding, well-lit collections.
Even at that young age I was really impressed by it all and perceived my museum-based art class as this very elevated aesthetic experience. I think I’ve wanted to be an art educator ever since, and provide these sort of special and “elevated” aesthetic experiences to very young children.