A man leaning over a chair, another man squatting shirtless, a woman helping to pick up a friend by his arm. These moments, often lost in the day-to-day, are not forgotten by artist Anne Petty. She captures these awkward, human moments in rich paintings. We wanted to catch up with Anne, who was a contributor to our third print edition, Monarch #3, and ask her about her work.

Jake Uitti: The images of yours we published in Monarch #3 were very moving – what was the impetus to portraying these unflattering figures with these rich colors?

Anne Petty: The figure has been at the heart of my work for some time now with the gesture of the figure being a crucial part of my investigation. I’ve always been interested in the relationship the body and mind have, particularly concerning certain existential questions. Without trying to over explain the narrative, I’m working to connect particular emotions or feelings we all share that relate in some way to the uncertainty and anxiety of being a person. I’m fascinated by what we can gather from someone just from the way they carry themselves or move about. For me, the gestures that are most compelling tend to have some sort of tension to them. It’s that tension that starts to ask a question and has the power to hold a viewer’s attention. I’m looking for a balance between the tension of the figure in its environment and the way the painting is constructed. It needs to go beyond just the imagery. It’s funny, when I’m working on a painting and everything starts to look too traditionally “nice”, it actually can make me feel a little uncomfortable. I’m not sure exactly why that is, but there’s always this urge to seek out moments that aren’t easy to define. Not that I’m trying to paint sad or upsetting paintings—just that where the psychology of the figure is concerned, areas of uncertainty are much more complex and interesting.

JU: So when you observe people, say, on a day to day basis, do you try to get an idea of what’s going on in their psyche? Do you write this down, or just try to internalize the feeling?

AP: Yes. I’m always looking for those particular moments where a person’s gesture tells us something deeper about who they are and what they’re feeling. I find that I tend to do this more with strangers than I do with those I’m close to. When I’m around someone I know well, I’m still looking and processing—-there are certainly still things to uncover—-but it can actually be more difficult for me to step outside and be an observer. In getting to know them, I’ve become familiar with their movements and gestures and I read them in a different kind of way than I might with someone who’s unfamiliar to me. As an observer, I’m an outsider looking in, and while I’m very present in the moment, I can get a little lost in my own thoughts reflecting on what I’m visually consuming. For this reason, it’s easier for me to observe a stranger. Assuming I’m not in conversation with them, the only indication I have as to who they are is from their outward signs—clothing and body language. I’m not expected to react in any particular way. There seems to be more of a mystery to unfold. I want my paintings to present similar moments—a glimpse of a character where background information is not available, but perhaps you know a little piece of them because you know their gesture.  I have a small notebook that I always carry around with me. I’ll jot down an idea or note, but often it’ll be a quick sketch.

JU: What are some of your favorite, most telling moments you’ve jotted down or sketched in this notebook?

AP: While I was traveling in Spain last summer, I found that there was something special and specific to the older generation in comparison to America’s edlerly culture. They were out and about at all hours of the day and night. We would walk down the street at midnight and there would be a crowd of engaged, elderly people laughing and telling stories, sitting on park benches or strolling along the street. They seemed to be more integrated into daily life in a way. I realized that in America, we don’t see people of a certain age out enjoying life very often, especially in a group. They seemed vibrant and alive in a way that was new to me. They weren’t trying to dress or be young, but there was a youthfulness to their actions. I noted many couples holding hands and stealing kisses. I loved watching them as a group—their social dynamic, how they moved or nodded their head to a story…how they supported each other, arm in arm while walking down the street. They had substance and vitality. It was an inspiring look at how to live. I’ve only just started to touch upon some of these observations within my work. There were many times when I would be paying more attention to the people that surrounded us, than the historic sights we had set out to see. Perhaps it’ll be more of a memory, but if I can figure out an interesting way to make it work, I’d love to incorporate some of these moments into something bigger.

JU: When you were a kid, what were the things that inspired you?

AP: My parents were pretty strict on the no TV, no video game rule, so for the most part, we were left to our own devices. I did a lot of drawing—making paper dolls, drawing pictures of fairies, beautiful princesses, or from illustrations I found interesting. There was an illustrator who I especially admired (and still do)—Trina Schart Hyman. My mother actually sent her a letter letting her know just how much she inspired me. She ended up sending me several really cool and thoughtful letters and postcards in addition to some of her books. It was amazing. She encouraged me to send her some of my drawings. I remember just copying her work, thinking that’s what she would like the best. She wrote back and prodded me to send some of my original work. I think I had pretty high expectations for myself, even at a young age, and felt my own work was so far beneath hers that she wouldn’t be interested, so even the “original” work I ended up sending was a pretty closely related version of her own work. This may sound silly, but looking back, I realize that that was a pretty significant point in my development as an artist—I became more focused and dedicated to the practice. It became something more than just paper dolls. Trina was a huge part of that shift.

JU: What are your goals for future work? Collaboration? Growth?

AP: I plan to use this summer to really focus on light relationships, particularly in the landscape, so I have a lot of plein-air painting lined up. The landscape offers both narrative potential and unique formal challenges that excite me. The relationship between human psychology and its environment is something I’ve started to investigate in my current work, and would like to push further. I’ve always been interested in the tension between abstraction and representation. I would love to figure out an effective way of bringing that into my work. We’ll see what happens.