Interview: Elise Thompson
Elise Thompson’s (b. 1988, Cincinnati, OH) layered surfaces call on the intricacies of transparency, both physical and figurative. Gestures made below, between, and above continue to be seen, in some way, all at once, whether made on a translucent or an opaque substrate. The resulting images are often quirky, vaguely referential, and even eerie.
Elise received a BFA from Northern Kentucky University in 2010 and an MFA at Florida State University in 2016. She attended the Boom Gallery Fellowship + Residency in Cincinnati, OH, in 2015 via an FSU Exceptional Opportunities Award and received the Mary Ola Reynolds Miller Scholarship in Visual Arts in 2016. Additional residencies include Vermont Studio Center, The Wassaic Artist Residency, The Maple Terrace Artist Residency Program, DNA Artist Residency, Stay Home Gallery + Residency, and ChaNorth Artist Residency. Thompson has been published in New American Paintings South #124, Friend of the Artist vol. 8, VAST Magazine vol. 1, Maake Magazine 14, and Whitehot Magazine of Contemporary Art. Past exhibitions include The Spartanburg Art Museum (SC), The Wassaic Project (NY), Laundromat Art Space (FL), Westobou Gallery (GA), Soft Times Gallery (CA), Florida Mining Gallery (FL), Blah Blah Gallery (PA), Bob’s Gallery (BK), SPRING/ BREAK Art Show (NYC), Ceysson & Bénétière (NYC), Helm Contemporary (NYC), and The Delaware Contemporary (DE). She lives and works in Brooklyn, NY.
Read our interview with Elise below!
Installation view of Hook, Cycle, and Flood in “Ctrl [Alt] Self” curated by Allison Westerfield at Westobou Gallery, Augusta, GA 2022
PP: Walk us through a typical day in your studio or generally through your process to make new work.
ET: Typical weekday: For now, I work remotely for my job, so I'm in and out of virtual meetings, doing research, writing, managing projects, and doing whatever else needs doing from about 9 am - 5 pm. Sometimes, there are gaps where I can fit in the studio (I have a live/work!). When 5 pm hits, and it's a "studio" evening, that's the priority. I'll eat quickly and work in the studio until about 9 pm. Sometimes, I'll go to about 10 - 11 pm during the week if I'm on a roll. Weekends: maybe it's a studio day all day; perhaps I'm out and about seeing shows; maybe I'm "resting."
I usually begin with small works on paper when it comes to process. They allow me to loosely work out composition, color palette, and other image aspects before I even think about getting into something more three-dimensional with a painting on the frame. Sometimes, I'll photograph these works on paper, put them in Photoshop, and chop up image elements further with the power to "command + z." I'll reference these flat works and mockups as the jumping-off point for a painting on the frame. I can pick and choose which sections to position under the substrate, between the frame, and above on the clear vinyl. I cut thick illustration board and watercolor paper into sculptural planes, which I then install into the frame as "image infrastructure" for what I want to recede behind the surface physically in the painting. I've even made a fully finished work on paper or illustration board and then decided to deconstruct that work into pieces to rearrange in frames. It's literally constructing/deconstructing/reconfiguring or pushing/pulling. Dura-lar and clear vinyl add extra translucent passes behind the translucent substrate, intersecting gestures obscuring and playing with the viewers' perception and the actual depth of the frame. Once the infrastructure of the work is finalized, I'll stretch clear vinyl, much like canvas, over the stretcher and make an additional painting on top. To put it more simply, I'm making several paintings on top of one another, choosing which parts to conceal and which to reveal through an additive process that feels a lot more like building than just painting.
Cover, Acrylic, glass beads, and mica on dura lar paper and clear vinyl, 36 x 24 inches, 2022
Maze, Acrylic, glass beads, and mica on dura lar paper and clear vinyl, 48 x 36 inches, 2023
PP: What motivates you to make art?
ET: I make what I make to see how ideas around concealing, revealing, disclosure, and just plain painting can be filtered through visual abstraction; a place where words might fall short. I also sometimes want to see how many referential points I can mix into a single image, from riffing on seemingly silly references like science fiction-like landscape illustrations from the 1950s-1980s, to avant-garde architecture, to veiled mushrooms, to camouflage, to water but still end with an image and object that is elegant, cohesive, and maybe a little bit strange.
PP: Name a childhood toy (or memory/cultural reference) you had, that you think relates to your practice today.
ET: Up until I was officially a “teenager”, I would only watch animated television and movies. Think Cartoon Network (switching over the cable box to “B”), Nickelodeon, Dr. Suess, and Don Bluth films. Seemingly juvenile and stuck in the mentality of just not wanting to grow up, inundated with pastels and neon within the programming and advertising was probably formative. The color palette alone, children’s nostalgia in animation and marketing in the 80s-90s “made for kids” is an era I come back to in addition to science fiction illustrations. Borrowing colorways from these materials can inevitably result in a very cohesive and strange image. It was oddly comforting but slightly unnerving. Animated palettes are abstracted from reality but are referential because the content is anchored in the familiar.
I love the idea of animated content in film and television, acting as a trojan horse. The Simpsons, for instance, looks like a children’s show, using that aesthetic and language to tackle something larger. Children’s movies by Don Bluth do something similar. There’s a dark underbelly to those films that run parallel to childhood innocence colliding with the unfortunate things that life can throw at you.
Long story short: With my paintings, I do want to invite you in with luscious, cohesive colors and textures while simultaneously instilling something a bit uncomfortable. It can be frustrating when a translucent surface shields you from what is below. The idea of the “unknown” can make you itch. The difference here is that I’m not serving obvious critiques as one-liners or tackling singular themes. But I am thinking about the “delivery system” of the image like in animation. Looks like one thing, but there’s more to mine. I aim not just to make “beautiful images”, but surfaces that also evoke something eerie, the familiar, hint multiple reference points you just might not be able to completely place. Some sort of in-between. They do more and hopefully say more than one thing. And the viewer is allowed and required to fill in the gaps.
Row, Acrylic, glass beads, and mica on dura lar paper and clear vinyl, 36 x 24 inches, 2023
PP: What are ways you support other artists?
ET: Whenever I can, I mention the names of artists' friends to other artists, gallerists, curators, etc. I believe you "get what you give", and that generosity in the art world is necessary. The worst thing we can do is view things with a "scarcity mentality" and never build each other up. You have to be willing to help one another.
PP: Favorite hobby outside of art?
ET: I started baking sourdough in 2017, and wow, is that an art in itself. It's so particular and requires a high level of balance, measurement, and an intuitive touch. I feel like baking is just another practice in "making" that can be shared very easily with others. Also, freshly baked sourdough: you can't beat it.
To learn more about Elise’s work, see her Instagram and Website