Interview with Rita Schoonmaker — Contemporary Art Curator Magazine

My creative exploration began in earnest through the full-time pursuit of a BFA during 1972-1976, fortuitously, an exciting and remarkable point in time. After graduating from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, I continued to create and show locally while working in related creative fields.

Always forward-looking, I typically test related forms of expression and mediums in the pursuit of inspiration. That being said, my current work reflects a journey marked by flowing lines and color relationships expressing observations made of the less tangible through acrylics on high quality papers.

By using contrasting approaches to gather experiences and testing different substrates I have challenged myself and refreshed my continuing journey of image-finding to create unique pieces. Exploration keeps the passion alive, allowing me to remain engaged in this artistic journey. These new works comprise a body of several pieces depicting a linear exploration of movement, color and texture.

This approach has become a focal point for expressing the natural or metaphysical. I hope the results encourage each viewer to embark their personal adventures of interpretation.

Over the decades, you’ve transitioned from graphite rubbings of rock formations to bold expressionistic abstracts and then to constructions involving unconventional materials. How do you decide when it’s time to shift your focus to a new medium or style, and what internal or external cues signal these shifts?

I am always curious about “what will happen if I try this?” Sometimes the results are disappointing, but sometimes they lead to new insights. Experimenting is a positive thing. You have to remain in the spirit of the nature of creativity. And sometimes I find myself circling back to an older approach, but in a new context. Ideas evolve. I am constantly vacillating back and forth between the loose, expressionistic style and a very hard edge geometric style. The constructions were an amalgamation of the two extremes. Today they have morphed into the use of actual texture or more recently or screening as a stencil, in a few of the newer two-dimensional paintings.

You’ve mentioned the appeal of large, expressionistic abstract works in the 80s and a move to smaller, more personal pieces during the pandemic. How has the scale of your work influenced the intimacy or impact of your artistic expression?

I started out working large while in college in the early 70s. It was deemed as the only way you would be taken seriously as an artist, and remained my preference for several years. And I truly loved exploring imagery on a larger area. However it comes with equally as large drawbacks in terms of work space, framing or storage. I have had to move around quite a bit over the years, so my choices for space were usually either a spare bedroom or a very narrow section of a garage.

When isolating during the pandemic became mandatory, I had just retired from a lengthy tenure as a graphic artist, and had moved my work area into a pre-existing workroom in my current garage. I had already made the transition to working smaller a few years earlier. However, out of necessity I chose to half my 24” x 30” sheets of paper to make my materials last long enough to begin to see deliveries for more supplies through online ordering. Then I went to work producing a number of pastel drawing, preferring to use the time productively and positively. And that practice has stayed with me. I find the new, more intimate sizes equally as challenging and fulfilling.

Considering your adventurous approach to materials—from pastels and inks to wire mesh and Fimo Clay—could you share an instance where a particular material challenged you unexpectedly? How did this challenge enhance your creative process?

Challenges are abundant! Perhaps the most surprising was how badly Fido clay smells when being baked in the oven. Not recommended! That was the primary reason I quit using it shortly after purchasing a few small blocks. Today, I would say that acrylic paint itself an be particularly challenging. For the most part, it’s inspirational, along with the feel of either paper, panel or canvas. But occasionally it’s the execution of the medium in relation to the image – is it a “truthful” application, or not. I have used oils in the past, but changed to acrylics for health reasons. Sometimes they don’t always behave in the expected manner. But for the most part, they are preferred.

Your work is deeply tied to your personal experiences and observations of the natural world. Can you discuss a piece that was particularly transformative for you—perhaps changing your perspective or method in a fundamental way?

I’ve always tried to communicate my observations about my environment. Sometimes, it’s been through quite literal drawings or paintings, or sometimes dabbling in a surrealistic photographic representation of a particular scene (small lawn chair in a dry wash bed). I went from working from live models while in college and for a couple of years afterwards to something less dependent on my meager wages. Somewhere I stumbled across the concept of capturing texture while out photographing rocks while on a hike, so I brought one home and experimented with it. It “clicked” for me. Now, I try to use lines, planes, color and movement to express intangible qualities of the less specific, such as light or mass, or you could say, the spirit of an open and at times, harsh environment. I am always aware of color relationships, and how colors can convey certain feelings. As a student of the concepts of color theory as written in books by Joseph Albers and Hans Hoffman, I am selective in my color choices with the evolving image. I only hope that I am capturing the energy of living in a spacious valley with vistas for miles.

You strive to balance the accidental with the spontaneous in your art. Could you describe a memorable moment when something unplanned in your creative process opened up new possibilities for your work?

My first “real” oil painting in my life studies painting class. I still have it to this very day. It’s an oil on canvas of a female nude, 41” x 46” – and where in my mind it came out of, I can’t tell you. It surprised me, and I’m glad it did. At that point I think I saw that I could trust my instincts. That sometimes I might miss the mark, but there would be times where I would be spot on. And I persisted with large, expansive work from that point on well into the late 80s before I began to move towards new ideas and sizes.

The concept of “no clear resolution” seems central to your philosophy. Can you discuss how this acceptance of uncertainty influences the way you approach a new piece or review a completed work?

For me, choosing to work within the reality that each piece will most likely turn out differently from what I initially conceived of means accepting that art does imitate life. I like the edginess of not knowing what will happen. It’s a leap of faith. Uncertainty in our lives can be nerve-wracking, but uncertainty in my art is a method for finding a solution to the uncertainty in the living.

You’ve lived through many changes in the art world, including shifts in technology and audience engagement. How have these changes affected the way you create or promote your art?

I am so grateful for the connected world today, in spite of the obvious hazards. Technology was my connection throughout the pandemic. Being comfortable with it after 25 years of producing products for print or web using Adobe suite products, I made the choice to give some of the online exhibitions a try once I felt I had enough pieces I could choose from. I had struggled for too long trying to put my work out “there.” I came up in an age where you still sought out a gallery to represent you, but without any real direction or guidance as to how to go about it, or even how to find pending exhibitions or competitions outside of looking in the back pages of art-specific magazines. I was lucky enough to find two new local galleries early which were receptive to the local artists. However, they were only in business for a short time, and it hurt when they had to close their doors. I had to rely on a couple of people I had come to know who were influential in my community and involved in charitable fund-raisers. Through them I was able to have a handful of works auctioned off to undisclosed collectors. This doesn’t bring in income, but it does place your work into the world, so to speak. Today’s art students have an incredible wealth of choices as to pursuits and venues which we did not have in the 70s through to fairly recently. And they are more tech-savvy. I was lucky my job made me tech-savvy enough to compete in exhibitions and fill out the forms!

As someone who has repeatedly reinvented her approach, what advice would you give to emerging artists about navigating their evolving artistic identities without losing their core vision?

You truly never know what life is going to throw your way – or at you. Be as prepared as you can be within reason for economic downturns. Be prepared for the art world and market to slow down. Be ready to think on your feet. Be prepared to get a 9-5 job if freelancing doesn’t bring in sufficient income. Setbacks are a part of life, but don’t let them stop you from being creative. Always stop and look around. Stay engaged, stay receptive to new possibilities. Find positive outlets to recharge. But don’t let disappointments, rejections, or the struggles you may personally have to face stop you from being the creative person that you are. Try new approaches, don’t worry if it will hurt your branding – you will in time understand what is worthwhile and what isn’t, that which is authentic to yourself.

In your statement, you mention that making art is like solving a puzzle. Can you walk us through your thought process for beginning a new piece? How do you decide which elements to include and which might disrupt the balance of an image?

My process is admittedly haphazard. As I tend to work intuitively, I generally only have the faintest concept of a starting point. There are times where I do sense when I am in a “zone,” that I have momentum with a particular concept. It may last for two to four pieces and fizzle for another two to four attempts. Sometimes I decide on a set of colors I want to use first. Then I decide of the substrate – whether, canvas, board or paper. If I had a good idea in the prior piece, I try to replicate it with modifications. And sometimes I wish I could use “command z” (Mac) to undo a brush stroke instead of a paper towel and water. But that only works in the digital world. Every choice I make is a puzzle piece, and I try to make each “puzzle” unique. Sometimes a piece will come together quickly. Other times it may take days, or a couple of weeks. I have had pieces where I have had to “fight” for the image – to clean up repeatedly an errant arc or line, and then everything around it, in order to make the painting “work.” I have one piece I did earlier this year where that was definitely the case. The cold temperatures at the time were causing the masking fluid and paint to dry very slowly, adding to the struggle to find a resolution. But eventually it all pulled together into, what I believe, is a very nice piece.

Looking at your broader body of work, how do you hope your artistic legacy will be understood and studied in the future? What themes or messages do you hope viewers will extract and carry forward from your art?

(Oh, that is deep!) I am hoping to leave an artistic legacy of quality work, cataloged and inventoried in a database for family use. I want to leave a legacy of persistence, of finding freshness in each phase, but still maintaining that character that is distinctly my own throughout.

https://www.artworkarchive.com/profile/rita-schoonmaker