Today we’d like to introduce you to Emma Gelbard.
Emma, please kick things off for us by telling us about yourself and your journey so far.
I’ve joked that I came out of the womb with a paintbrush — I’ve been making things for so long that I can’t remember a time in my life without art. I spent most of my childhood secure in my identity as an artist, blissfully unconcerned with the practicalities of how an art career might actually play out. I did know that if I was going to go to college, it would have to be art school, so in 2012, I started my undergraduate degree as a Fine Arts major at Cornell University. I made it two years before I had an existential crisis; I had access to more studio space, equipment, and experienced professors than ever, but I was miserable, and the art I made for classes wasn’t reflecting anything important to me.
I switched my major to Gender Studies with concentrations in Art History and Creative Writing, and let my formal artistic practice take a backseat to an impulse to learn more about the topics that would ultimately inform my artwork. This was a harrowing decision; at the time, it felt like giving up on myself. I oscillated between viewing the choice as a terrible mistake and an incredible opportunity. I’m grateful now for both halves of my education, and today, my art builds on both the technical foundation I earned from art school as well as the drive to critically analyze culture that I developed through my education in the humanities.
For two years after college, I struggled with severe health issues that limited my ability to paint and to advocate for my art. Over the past year, I have begun to emerge; as my health has improved, so have my opportunities. I started working as a studio assistant for Adrienne Shishko last fall, and her practice has shown me some of what it takes to succeed in this field while supporting a community of artists.
Can you give our readers some background on your art?
I paint and draw in order to connect with people; visual art is the most powerful mode of communication I know how to use. I want my art to convey evidence of my hand and an echo of my history in a way that resonates with its viewers, so I try to make it clear that a story is there without giving so much away that the audience feels limited; my individual experience is a finite moment within a million different perspectives. For me, a piece is finished when it elicits a response, and it’s successful if other people can see some of their own narrative reflected in mine.
I often reference issues of identity and the physical experience of corporeality; people, bodies, and paintings can all play as characters. The bodies I depict fall apart and reconfigure into visual puns and strange distortions that dissolve the idea of a single, static self. In my abstract work, I repeat marks and figures until they mass into patterns that reference anatomical and organic forms. I make art because I want to know what happens when you lean into the weirdness of having a body, celebrate the grotesque, and communicate everything you are without trying to make sense. Most of all, I want to create images that make people feel more alive and less alone.
Artists rarely, if ever pursue art for the money. Nonetheless, we all have bills and responsibilities and many aspiring artists are discouraged from pursuing art due to financial reasons. Any advice or thoughts you’d like to share with prospective artists?
I think financial success is a product of luck and persistence; if you’re both patient and relentless, you will eventually find a way. Having an unpredictable income gives me a lot of anxiety, but I have a part-time job, a very detailed budget — and I’m very grateful to also have a community that can be a safety net in case of catastrophe.
The best advice I have is to be realistic but not pessimistic — there are times when I do have to prioritize my grocery bill over new paint, but I can always make some kind of art. When it feels like subsistence is all I can manage, being creative is a survival tactic that lets me feel like I’m still moving forward.
What’s the best way for someone to check out your work and provide support?
I have art in a pop-up gallery called Ruckus through July — it’s at 1327 Boylston St in Fenway, and the Instagram for the space is @ruckus.art. fenway.
Otherwise, my art is on my own Instagram — @emmagelbard — and on my website, emmagelbard.com, and I work out of my home in Jamaica Plain. The best way to support me is to contact me (through Instagram or my website) — most of what I post is for sale, and there are few things that give me more joy than hearing how other people interpret my art.
Contact Info:
- Website: emmagelbard.com
- Email: emmagelbard@gmail.com
- Instagram: emmagelbard
Image Credit:
Emma Gelbard
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