Today we’d like to introduce you to Nicole Kutz.
Every artist has a unique story. Can you briefly walk us through yours?
No matter how hard or often I tried to veer away from art, it would always find me. I am my best and happiest self when creating and no semblance of job stability or life security can shake that. My Oma was an artist and owned a gallery off of Peachtree Street in the 80s. She passed when I was 11, but in that moment, I felt a strong call to carry her legacy. I have a BFA in painting from the University of Georgia and am a recent SCAD MFA graduate. I have worked in art galleries, startups and will forever be on a conquest to find stability through art.
I was born and raised in Atlanta, but recently moved to Los Angeles to pursue my artistic dreams on the West Coast. It has been a learning curve to say the least but I know that with my Oma’s vision of art in my heart, nothing can stop me.
As cliché as it sounds, art is my therapy. Painting is how I process memory, past experiences, fears and dreams. Every series has its own story but it all centers around my internal struggle with chaos and control and a search to stay present.
Please tell us about your art.
We ultimately have no true power over our lives, but our grandiose illusions are enough to push us through existence. When we feel out of control or when things go awry, it is a human inclination to respond with anxiety or fear. As much as I attempt to preserve a person or memory, life will always take over.
While in graduate school, my grandparents’ aging on both sides of my family became a conscious undercurrent to my art-making. My grandmother, Jerry, had her first stroke at the start of my M.F.A. program, catalyzing years of deterioration from Alzheimer’s disease. Our conversations consisted of singing incoherent musical lines together, and the once loquacious woman became silent except in verse. When the quiet moments seemed too long for her to stand, she consistently sang the 1930’s Army Air Corp chant, “Off We Go into the Wild Blue Yonder”.
These last interactions had a tremendous impact on my art. I realized that the process of aging speaks more to impermanence, not my attempts at literal depictions through painting. I was letting go in a lot of ways: of my family members, of my long-term relationship and of my former artistic practice. I’ve always had to make art to connect with people, because otherwise I feel entirely detached. I recalled earlier cleansing practices – outside of art making in my own life. Therapy, specifically Reiki, purged a lot of those related insecurities and fears. The entire result of this letting go was cathartic.
My last body of work encapsulated my search for acceptance. I believe beauty and fragility are related, because you need to be made vulnerable to find strength. Sewing helps me replace that vulnerability with strength but doing so also encourages me to contemplate how something is made beautiful by accepting its flaws. By embracing a flaw, or chaos, as part of the self, we can grow into more complete beings. This happened with my grandparents, as they had to release to move on to something bigger.
As my grandmother died, I was driving in 2016’s ice storm to say a final goodbye
with Grimes’ Oblivion playing in the background. As the song climaxed, I came down the hill to the most incredible opening. The sky had been graying all morning, only to reveal beautiful rays of light and a full blue sky. By the time I made it home, she was gone, but my aunt later confirmed her death coincided with that moment.
Maybe that is why my pieces consistently have openings. I find that the most intimidating experience is how people become so prominent in your life – a fixture – but also how quickly they can leave; be that with death, a relationship ending, even a new job, everything comes and goes fluidly like waves. We are controlled like the tide, the moon pushing us back and forth out to sea. That is where the people I have loved go. They are out at sea. Floating away, only for a certain tide to bring them back.
What do you think is the biggest challenge facing artists today?
Allowing your voice to shine in your work without the influence and competition of others.
How or where can people see your work? How can people support your work?
My studio is based in Los Angeles, but you can find my work at gallery43 in Roswell, GA, through SCAD Atlanta, online at loupeart.com, on my website at nicolekutz.com and Instagram @nkutz.
Contact Info:
- Website: www.nicolekutz.com
- Phone: 6782343535
- Email: nkutzz@gmail.com
- Instagram: @nkutz
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