New Jersey-based artist, Kelsi Kosinski, maintains an enviable balance of humor and wisdom in her work. Her series, Instagranimals, is evidence of this through and through. Combine the head of a rhino with the casual allure of a woman making her way home after late night out? Sure! Mix the heads of frogs with the bodies of selfie-taking beach bums? Awesome! This is the work of Kosinski, who brings the viewer in with the sublime and keeps her there with thoughtful depth. And because her work is so fabulous, we wanted to chat with Kosinski about her inspirations and her art. Enjoy!

Jake Uitti: When you’re thinking about creating an image, what about the human body and the animal intrigues you?

Kelsi Kosinski:  Bodies are like little creatures that we have to tend to. I find the whole thing really bizarre.  There’s the spiritual world and the physical world and something in between, that’s maybe ego. On one hand, there’s perfect, beautiful energy (spirit, soul, whatever you want to call it) and the spirit is capable of infinite knowledge, love, and imagination, with basically no limits, totally free to exist in any capacity for all time.  But then that is stuck inside something that dies.  An all powerful force locked into this animal object that needs to be fed, bathed, coddled, clothed, needs to sleep, has its own chemistry and desires, lusts, breaks, becomes addicted, deteriorates, and most importantly to this set of drawings, has a whole set of rules about what it needs to look like. So it’s this place where two disparate entities are locked together and there’s a fundamental clash; sometimes it breaks my heart. That is why biology and theology both find a place in my thoughts and art work because it’s ridiculous that the two are so intertwined.  Body and soul are strange bedfellows.

JU: It sounds like you’re equating making art to raising a child maybe? Either way, how has motherhood affected your creativity?

KK: No, I wouldn’t say making art is anything like raising a child, aside from the fact that it’s creative. They’re kind of opposite for me, actually.  Drawing puts me in a meditative trance, not that its mindless but its an inner world, being stimulated from within.  Being with my daughter is absolute extroversion, attention, improvisation, and intention.  You have to be creative to respond to a child thoughtfully; you speak different languages and her world is alien to her.  As the parent, you nurture her through forgetting what you think you know and allowing yourself to experience the same kind of wonder she feels.  It’s a crash-course in mindfulness.  I’m blessed beyond belief, don’t get me wrong, but being a single parent of a toddler is no joke.  The irony is that being a single mother turns you into the ultimate hustler.  You’re driving around with your baby in a car full of old cheerios and plastic animals and socks, singing songs about frogs or whatever, but in your heart you are a gangster.

JU: Where’s the oddest place you’ve found creative inspiration?

KK: Online dating actually has been one of my “muses.”  It requires you to herd yourself and others into often meaningless categories. My name is Kelsi, I’m 5’5”, I’m blonde, I like cats, I like tequila, I like tall men with dark hair, I do not like country music, etc, etc.  The truth is we all have this entire universe inside us that is boundless and unbelievably complex.  We have more memories, thoughts, dreams, interconnected stories, creativity, humor, contradictions, neuroses, and potential than could ever be shared.  Then we have to approach the world with this miniscule opening through which to share our internal universe.  So we are constantly curating who we are in one way or another.  It’s not a judgment; I just believe that’s how it is. We all have to do it, to a certain extent.  And even if you are able to be your true authentic self every second of every day, it can be painful.  People aren’t used to that. There’s rejection. If you’ve ever walked down the street and had someone tell you, “You should smile! You’re so pretty!” then, there you go.  Happens all the time. There’s little room in this world for the authentic self.  You have to shove your way through, join the pack, or disengage. Social media is an extreme version of that filtering of the self.  Online dating sites, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, they all are an even more manicured forum than real life.  It’s so easy to present yourself and your life in ways that are flattering and attractive to yourself and others.  And I am not an exception.  I’m not above being seduced by beauty and materials.  I am attracted to both the lies and the truth and I’m also disgusted by them, so that’s an edge I find myself up against.

JU: When are you your best self? How do these moments affect your output as an artist?

KK: My best self is on my deathbed.  That sounds intense but it’s good mindfulness practice to die often.  In moments of clarity, I am able to see that moment as one singular and precious part of my life that is (poof!) now already gone. I try to feel the intensity and power of that.  It actually keeps me light and easy.  My goal is to be present, open, and compassionate.  I’m surrounded by children 24/7, being a teacher and a parent.  There are accidents, questions, interruptions, lots of frantic energy, so this gets tested all day long every day.  You have to keep the love and tenderness alive.  I do fail but that’s why it’s called practice.  I’ve gotten better at it.  I make an effort to integrate the emotional and logical parts of me so I can operate from a place of wisdom.  I’ve had some good psychotherapy, can you tell? So how that affects my output as an artist is that it keeps me from taking myself and the work too seriously. My outlook is less likely to be shallow, thoughtless, arrogant, or cruel if I’m plugged in to the most core values of compassion and authenticity, everything that becomes clear at the end of a person’s life.  I try to maintain that clarity long before I do finally check out of earth for real.

JU: The images here are an interesting amalgam: you have the animal parts (head, claws) and the more normal human parts. What about this combination do you maybe feel in yourself, internally – this combination of random parts to make a “whole”?

KK: On one hand, I want to say, “Oh, here are some interesting things about me, things that make me complicated, things that are unexpected!” and that’s just more ego talking.  The ego wants so badly to establish itself, to feel security, it clamors and clings to identifying information.  It wants a special story and an alluring image.  The animal girls definitely reflect part of how I feel; the urge or pressure to seduce and attract, the rewards that come with that.  As a young girl, I learned how people like to be charmed, I learned what I could do to myself to make others want and accept me.  It is so second nature to please and attract others that it becomes a part of my own happiness and satisfaction- now I need it.  My ego needs it.  It feels good to be wanted and admired, no matter how it happens.  That means, in order to establish and live in an attractive persona, you have to omit things that are unpleasant or hard to swallow.  You know these Instagram poses that are basically memes? The perfect body and makeup, the peace sign and the lip injections and the “duck face” and the lovely filtered light? This face in this photograph is not who I am, yet I need so badly for you to like it because it represents me.  It’s a shallow representation. It’s all pure ego.  It’s all unattainable in reality, in these fallible bodies, living these finite lives. That’s why the bodies in my drawings are idealized and the species of animals I’ve chosen are extinct.  None of it exists.