featured maker: Ansley Givhan

Ansley Givhan is a New Orleans based multi disciplinary artist. Her mesmerizing work is filled with wonder and delight. We were so excited to get a tour of her newest exhibit, Strange Plants, and chat with her about her inimitable work. Get lost in the poetry of her work and words below.

How did you get started as an artist? Was there a certain moment that you decided- this is what I’m going to do? 

As a child I was very imaginative but didn’t grow up in an art household, so I had little exposure to art. I was interested in painting, but my exploration of it was limited to copying photographs and master works. I started considering art more seriously in college, particularly during an intensive two-week course where I painted the landscape from direct observation. This prompted me to think about paint as a vehicle for responding to experience, rather than replicating what the eye sees. 

I moved to New Orleans in 2017 and didn’t know anyone, so I spent a lot of time in the basement of my house attempting to make pictures. I think I was lonely, but making art was so fulfilling that I hardly noticed. Ever since then I have been committed to a life centered around making.

Tell us a little about your newest exhibit.

Strange Plants comprises sculptural paintings, drawings, and objects constructed from collected everyday materials such as cardboard, wood, textiles, ink, thread, paper, nails, staples and clay, and objects found discarded on the street. I explore incalculable shifts: themes of the life cycle, change in the everyday, self-awareness, and the relationship between painting and poetry.

The ties to poetry in this body of work and particularly the relationship between painting and poetry are very powerful. Are there any poems or poets that you gravitate towards? 

Both painting and poetry are ambiguous in nature as they attempt to describe the underlying essence, the sensuality, of everyday experience. When I paint, I am often responding to poetry. I feel connected to Mary Oliver, enamored by her depiction of nature and its endless life cycles, how observations of small everyday changes reveal underlying truths: the loss, grief, hope, and joy that is shared by all living things. This poem by Oliver resonates with me deeply –

Foolishness? No, it’s not.


Sometimes I spend all day trying to count

The leaves on a single tree. To do this I 

Have to climb branch by branch and

Write down the numbers in a little book.

So I suppose, from their point of view,

it’s reasonable that my friends say: what

Foolishness! She’s got her head in the clouds

Again.

But it’s not. Of course I have to give up,

But by then I’m half crazy with the wonder

Of it – the abundance of the leaves, the 

Quietness of the branches, the hopelessness

Of my effort. And I am in that delicious 

And important place, roaring with laughter,

Full of earth-praise.

I also read poetry by Charles Bukowski, Walt Whitman, Agnes Martin, Richard Tuttle, and Allen Ginsberg to name a few. I’m currently reading a book of Essays titled Upstream by Mary Oliver– it's really lovely. 

Self Proclaimed cat

Tell us a little bit about your process and what inspires you to create. 

I spend a few hours each day walking in my neighborhood. I am looking, touching, smelling, listening, and feeling the world around me. Walking is my way of committing to the present moment. I focus my awareness on the ever-changing flux of existence. Birth, death, and re-birth are common occurrences in daily life, but our human minds are so consumed with our own thoughts, completing tasks, and keeping appointments that we don’t notice the shifting nature of everything around us. Our rejection of the fundamental ambiguity of life leaves us disconnected from the beauty, awkwardness, humor, and heartbreak of everyday experience. As our feet drag our clouded minds and limp bodies forward, the spider is weaving its web, the baby sparrows hatch from their nest, the caterpillar drops from its chrysalis a beautiful butterfly, the cat gets hit by a car. The world is vibrating all around us, and we position ourselves above as opposed to grounding ourselves within. My walks are for humming to the heron, braiding grass between my fingers, building stick circles, and engaging with even the tiniest of organisms with gratitude, laughter, and curiosity.

In my process I am in a constant state of editing. Everything can be covered, torn, cut, re-arranged, destroyed or re-purposed in some way; nothing is too precious, no idea is fixed. I feel most at ease when I’m not sure, in a place of not knowing what next or how. My adult-self attempts to control things, but I’d like to think that the inner child still exists in me somewhere. Of course, it takes practice in awareness to engage the inner child, as we are so conditioned as adults to prioritize analytical thinking over emotional intelligence.

We love this! We both happen to be HUGE walkers too. Found objects seem to be an aspect of this series as well as in your work as a whole. How do you choose materials and objects to work with? Do you collect anything?

When I was a child, I collected dead bugs and set up little altars for them in my closet– I’ve always been collecting things. The notion that anything and everything can be used as art material excites me. I am drawn to the possibility of a reclaimed object or material that is thrifted or found in the aisles of a craft or hardware store. I’m interested in re-contextualization, using common materials in uncommon ways. I like the idea of using a material that has a perceived function in an oppositional manner; the material contradicts itself, but at times can’t resist referring to its original function. 

If you could give any advice to emerging artists what would you say?

Experiment with new ways of making. Be self-critical, but also self-loving. Research can be anything. Be honest and always pursue delight.