q+a: madison warp

Tchotchke Gallery: For those who are not familiar with your practice, can you tell us a bit more about how you first got into painting and how you got to where you are now? 

Madison Warp: My painting practice began in pursuing both my interests in the feminine human form and storytelling through visual narratives. The art of communicating a lived experience through one image fascinates me; especially how the inclusion of the human form creates a fundamental connection with my viewers. Currently, these narratives have been rooted in exploring personal trauma as a means of self-healing and closure. 

TG: How do you think your practice has evolved since you first began? 

MW: My practice began with exploring the sociopolitical and religious pressures on women’s rights through the visual study of the feminine form. Lately, my gaze has turned gaze inwards to discuss themes of feminine mental health - a topic that marginalizes women- through the lens of personal trauma. In making pieces of an introspective nature, I connect with my viewers on a deeper level. Through sharing my world’s idiosyncrasies- the beverages she consumes, the narratives that fill my head, the characters that populate my imagination- I tell stories that make my trauma unique yet relatable. 

TG: Is there anything new you’ve been experimenting with? 

MW: I have been experimenting with ways I can communicate the condition of my mental state through a unique visual language. This has resulted in the marriage of my drawing and painting practices through the inclusion of oil pastel in my paintings. This experimentation has led to a translation of my anxieties through combining a realistic painted space with my mental projections drawn over the scenes. In combining the two, I enliven my scenes with what my imagination projects, thus allowing a more true image of my art to manifest. 

TG: Can you elaborate on specific themes and motifs we can find within your paintings? What inspires these? 

MW: My current series deals with confronting emotional trauma, navigating the complicated road of self healing, and hopefully, the ability to release and move forward. As the series is rooted in self portraiture, the main symbol I work with is my body. My portraits avoid direct eye contact with my viewer. This leaves the opportunity for my audience to project themselves into the scene and empathize with the work on a personal level. 

These paintings are set in my bedroom and home spaces. This is where my life unfolds: in the messy confines of my most revealing place. It is only in this environment that symbols are easy to come by and all things are loaded with lived subplot and personal dialogue. The tri-leaf philodendron that clings to life resembles my own grasp on survival. The consumed Tejava containers that collect reflect my need to stay awake when I yearn for unconsciousness. The crumbled mass of white claws showcase my self prescribed antidote to transformative misery: numbness. This environment provides me with every object I require to tell this story of this time in my life. It grants a level of intimacy necessary for this extremely personal work. 

TG: How does color inform your work? Do you have a methodical approach to incorporating it or do you think its use is intuitive for you? 

MW: Color informs my work by setting the mood of my interior spaces. My palettes prime the backgrounds for the drama of the scenes, often alluding to emotional transitions. In my current series, scenes transition from a muggy, boggled down afternoon haze of coppery oranges and blackish greens to a spiritual and transformative night composed of glowy blues and healing emeralds. Though in many instances I find myself intuitively gravitating towards my favorite hues in garments and objects in my work, and believe there is a subconscious emotional backing for this. For instance, my deep love for a brash pink paired with a deep, somber viridian matches my temperament in this series. To be confrontational yet compassionate, vocal yet cryptic, exploring the darkness through making it glow with light. I want my scenes to exist in a universe that has the potential to explore both glorious lucidity and gloomy darkness, illuminating the transformative middle ground that lies in between. 

TG: How do you come up with the titles for each of your paintings? Is it something that happens before a painting starts, mid-process, or once it is complete? 

MW: I never have an exact title in mind before I start. Instead, when first composing a work there’s an underlying theme that is in my mind’s eye, and I build from there. For instance, with my piece Proximity/ Long Gone, The Day From The Moon, I began the painting seeking to explore the feeling of yearning I had while letting go of an abusive relationship. The underlying theme was about exploring the notion of proximity and how memory and longing can distort this physical concept, leaving you in an insufferable limbo of feeling too close and too far from what has caused both pain and comfort. Simultaneously, while creating the painting, Adrienne Lenker’s song I Still Hear You came across my headphones, and it often echoed in the background while I worked. The song explores the singer’s remembrance of a lost loved one, and how the memory of this person bridges the impossible distance that now exists between them. In a line of the song, she reflects how even though the echo of their voice still envelops her mind, it quickly leaves and is “long gone, like the day from the moon”. It felt like a fitting title. It is through moments like these that I find the titles to my works; links of my personal life and experience that I tie to the work, making them personally reflective and publicly dynamic even after completion.

TG: What do you find the most rewarding part of the creative process and alternatively, what do you find the most taxing? 

MW: My practice is most rewarding when a piece finally starts to resemble the image that my imagination first conjured. In this, my chest relaxes a little and my shoulders spread from framing my chest. An emotional and physical release instills. When the physical expression of my original image finally starts to resemble the mental one, it feels like an unfathomable distance has been crossed and an emotional journey has been fulfilled. Consequently, there are many layers and steps to achieving this end goal. It can be most taxing when the work does not match your emotional reflection at certain stages. In these moments perseverance is essential, and you find yourself at war with the work. It is only through asking myself “how do I win this back”, that I reach my final rendition of the work. Through this, I can find what the piece needs, and as a result, my final image is realized.