How did you get into making art?
I’ve been drawing and painting for as long as I can remember. When I was nine, after moving to the US, I asked my parents if I could join an after-school art class, and from then through high school my days mostly revolved around school and making art. Painting felt so natural—it stuck with me, and I never really questioned why. In college, I took a step back from art, explored other subjects, and ended up majoring in political science. Those years gave me a broader lens for looking at the world. They impact how I research, build ideas, and problem solve in the studio now.
What are you currently working on?
I’m working on pieces for some upcoming projects this fall, but more broadly I’ve been focusing on material experimentation. I’ve been testing out different surfaces, ways of grounding them, and approaches to layering paint to expand both my expression and my understanding of what paint can do. It feels like each material opens a different door, and I’m trying to see how these experimentations can push my conceptual themes further while still holding onto the sensibilities that anchor my practice.
This body of work began with an exploration of how perception and identity fracture over time.
Amy Moon
What inspired you to get started on this body of work?
This body of work began with an exploration of how perception and identity fracture over time: what it means to see through a filter, to catch only a trace, or to belong to shifting phases of place and memory. I drew inspiration from various sites of impermanence, like a horizon that shifts as you move, temporary architectures such as scaffoldings, or landscapes continually reshaped by forces of water and dust. Water’s cyclical and elusive nature has become a way for me to think through these themes—not only in how it interacts with different surfaces and materials, but also in the symbolic weight it carries, evoking migration, place-lessness, and interconnectedness. In this context, I think of my paintings less as fixed images and more as temporary shelters for what is slipping away, holding moments at the threshold where visibility and disappearance, belonging and dislocation, unfold at once.
Do you work on distinct projects or do you take a broader approach to your practice?
I would say the latter. I like to keep multiple ideas in motion at once but all connected by the same larger framework. Typically, I have a group of four to six paintings in progress while also setting aside time to research and experiment on smaller scale. This balance keeps ideas moving for me and guides me toward where I want to take my practice next.
What’s a typical day like in your studio?
When I get to the studio, I usually start with some coffee and just stare at the works for a while. They always feel a little different after time away from the studio, and that fresh look usually sets the tone for how I’ll work that day. I’ll spend about 30 minutes to an hour drawing – drawing is always the starting point for my works – before working until I feel too tired to keep going. Then, I’ll jot down a to-do list for the next day and head out.
Who are your favorite artists?
The list is long and changes from time to time, but some artists I’ve deeply admired include Francis Bacon, Sarah Sze, Charline von Heyl, Sigmar Polke, Lee Krasner, Anicka Yi, and Sue Williams.
Where do you go to discover new artists?
Exhibitions, openings, open studios, social media.
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