Inka Essenhigh
Every era needs an artist to prod it into recognizing its folly and hypocrisy. In the nineties, Inka Essenhigh performed that function with incisive wit and beauty. The slippery, boneless figures in Essenhigh's hyper-slick expressionistic paintings from the 1990s provoked comparisons with graphic novel illustrations, Japanamation, Persian miniature painting and the mordant expressionism of Weimar Germany artists Otto Dix, John Heartfield and George Grosz. Her smooth surfaces, dystopic world-view and flourescent-lit palette confronted viewers with a visual sensation like an oyster sliding down their throat. In a profile for the New York Times Sunday magazine, Michael Kimmelman recognized the purpose that animated her paintings whose 'touch was mechanical, the atmosphere airless,' and chided critics who failed to appreciate what she intended to say when they dismissed her art as merely 'trendy.'
Just as Essenhigh's work embodied the cultural atmosphere of the nineties, an era often critically disparaged as cynical, apathetic and jaded, her current work reflects the sincere emotions of a country painfully struggling with the rhetoric of a heated culture war and the realities of an actual war. Essenhigh's personal exposure to war came as the wife of New York painter Steve Mumford, who spent more than eleven months accompanying military units in Iraq and posting the dispatches, drawings and watercolor paintings of the soldiers, civilians and fighting he encountered there on Artnet.com under the heading, 'Baghdad Journal' (Mumford published Baghdad Journal: An Artist in Occupied Iraq in October 2005.)
Unlike other artists who were forced to mature in public view after early success, Essenhigh has not retreated. Nor has she stuck to producing the same precocious, popular work. Instead, the new body of paintings she is exhibiting is even fresher than the work she made in her twenties. Instead of appearing slick and cynical, which was never truly her intent, her current work embodies the sensual joy of Boucher, the kinetic energy of Bruegel and the playfulness of Casper the Friendly Ghost.
Essenhigh was born in Pennsylvania, educated in Columbus, Ohio and New York, and currently lives in Manhattan. She experienced her early success on the New York art scene in the late nineties, when painting was returning to prominence after years of being dismissed or marginalized. During this early period, much of the New York art world was fascinated by Essenhigh's struggle to find the right gallery. An artist's choice of dealer can genuinely determine his or her career and development, and while few artists have much guidance in making that critical decision, fewer artists are as vulnerable to public scrutiny, speculation and jealousy as was Essenhigh, when, between 1998 and 2001, she moved from the Stux Gallery to Deitch Projects to Mary Boone to 303 Gallery. Essenhigh has responded to public interest in those moves by being generously open about her reactions concerning each dealer, offering greener artists a template for art-world types to avoid when trying to find the right individual match.
Essenhigh's work is included in the exhibit 'USA Today,' at the Royal Academy, London, in October.
Inka Essenhigh, Spring, 2006
ANA FINEL HONIGMAN: What does the idea of 'good taste' mean to you?
INKA ESSENHIGH: I've used it to mean different things at different times but one thing it means is that the surface of a painting - whether it is taped off, poured, or thick sloppy brushwork - is more important than the image or content.
AFH: Do you consider your paintings to be satire?
IE: Not at all. Of course, there are elements of humor in my work, but they're not meant to be ironic, or satirizing of American culture, which I take very seriously.
AFH: Do you admire American culture or do you take it seriously in the sense that you are seriously offended by facets of it?
IE: I don't feel offended because I don't feel responsible for it. Watching TV can be an exercise in enjoying something that doesn't reflect me. Sometimes it is great and sometimes it is boring. I feel like through watching TV, I learn something about the people I am surrounded by in America. TV is a living and fast-moving thing unrooted in anything, willing to go wherever the money is. TV, movies and advertising is the way it is for a reason and it is always interesting to watch and speculate on what those reasons are.
AFH: You've lived in Pennsylvania, Columbus, Ohio and New York. How have these different cities influenced your ideas about American culture and affected your work?
IE: Having European parents who were skeptical about America colored how I looked at my surroundings, especially the suburbs of Columbus. But we stayed and they are still there. I thought the suburbs were so unromantic, un-picturesque and devoid of any history, that it would be my job to seek out those qualities and bring them to those places. But, in fact, those qualities were there already.
AFH: How is living in New York different?
IE: I love New York because I can walk around and run into people, but it is a little too old-world to truly inspire me. New York is too much like 'Old Europe' in its love of past glories.
AFH: Funny you say that, since New York thinks of itself as the world's tastemaker. Do you think the city is deluded in its self-image?
IE: In a way, if New York thinks it is, then it is! It's more important to have confidence that you are where it is at, and what you are doing is what's happening. This gives you the freedom to try things.
AFH: That is excellent advice for individuals but what do you think are the ramifications for artists, both inside and outside a city like New York, when certain cities are considered cultural capitals?
IE: It does lead to seductive but misguided notions of what constitutes the 'best.' People come to New York to become great artists. Sometimes, they mistake great for the 'best.' Ideas such as the 'best' can only happen in a place where there is a clear definition of what that might be, but this tends to deny other models and regional flavors.
AFH: But aren't New York tastes regional? They are regional for within New York.
IE: True. And that is why historically important artists like Andrew Wyeth had a hard time being recognized here. New York has a difficult time realizing that an artist can be both regionally and universally important. Van Gogh is another example of this conflict. He saw many paintings when he
worked for a dealer, went to Paris and got swept up in the Japanism craze of his time, but ultimately be followed his own path.
AFH: Do you subscribe to the idea that artists require a certain amount of personal or professional struggle to produce interesting and original work?
IE: The only thing that is good about struggle is that people can relate to it. I feel like I believed that in the past and now I want to rid myself of my struggles. I believe that when something is right then it's the easiest thing to do. I now realize that I make my best work when I am having fun and it is easy. Unfortunately it is hard for me to get there but I am making a more focused effort to retrain myself and paint with ease. This summer I am trying to make small, fast, easy paintings so I can get rid of my
old-fashioned idea that I need to struggle.
AFH: Do you think critics and viewers tend to over-intellectualize their responses to paintings?
IE: I can't tell, it could just be the way people talk about work rather than their actual response. At least today, art conversations are no longer like reading art-talk from the '80s, so things must be getting better. I would like to think Dave Hickey changed all that.
AFH: How has abstraction influenced your style?
IE: I couldn't make what I make without Abstract Expressionism having existed. I compose in an abstract way, making shapes and splotches that have a rhythm from left to right across the canvas. Things like a tree, a person, or a table can take any shape, not just for surrealist effect but in order to make the composition feel animated. In my painting Spring I wanted the rhythm of the trees to look like they had just sprung into life, reacting to the presence of a person in their space. Lately, having a living spirit in the painting has become the focus of my work. I want an abstract idea embedded in a realistic painting. Or sometimes, it is vice-versa.
AFH: What do you think of completely abstract work being made today? Do you think it is an anachronistic aesthetic or still relevant?
IE: I would never want to say something is not relevant because the second I do that, then it becomes relevant because it becomes reactionary. But yeah, I guess it doesn't look relevant to me anymore.
AFH: Your current work is very different from the work you were doing in the nineties. How do you respond when looking at your older work?
IE: My older paintings have the stamp of the nineties. The intention was to create paintings that were of the moment, whereas these works are more personable. There is more emotion in these works. You read similar sentiments in the earlier works, but my recent paintings make it easier to read my earlier work. Now, I want to produce paintings with a living spirit. The others had life, but these have more humanity.
AFH: Could this transition merely be a byproduct of your personal emotional maturation?
IE: Perhaps. In the nineties, I wanted to produce paintings that looked machine-made. Now I am less concerned with making images that look slick. I don't want to produce paintings which appear cool. Now it matters less to me how the surfaces look than what they convey.
AFH: This distinction also reflects societal transitions. The nineties was a slicker era, which privileged irony and intellectual detachment, while the current political situation, the war, and culture wars necessitate that we take things a lot more seriously and respond more sincerely.
IE: That is true. Post-9/11, surfaces are not that interesting anymore.
AFH: How do you think having had your husband in Iraq, producing images of the intimate and personal reality of war, has influenced your art?
IE: I am not honestly sure. I am a different person for watching what Steve went through, but I don't know exactly how that experience has affected this recent body of work. While he was away, I was producing paintings with a darker political core of concerns but once he returned I went back to living like 'what war?' It's sadly the way this city is living.
AFH: Since, despicably, America no longer has a draft, affluent urban areas like Manhattan can remain largely unaffected by our being at war. You were in the unique position of actually having a partner or close family member in the war zone.
IE: Steve notices that people have little genuine empathy for the soldiers and refuse to see that even if the Bush administration is a disaster, soldiers are still like you and me. Without a draft, and no tax or other
sacrifices, it is easy to walk around Manhattan thinking 'what war?'
AFH: Do you think New York is too separate from the rest of the country?
IE: No, there are a lot of liberals out there.
AFH: You are married to another artist. Are you friends with other artists?
IE: I am, but not in any scenester-type way. New York is too big, too many artists with everyone doing their own thing. I just meet up with my friends. Most of my socializing in the art world happens around life-drawing classes my friend Will Cotton hosts in his studio. Will invites artists to sketch from models he hires. It is a relaxed and non-competitive environment but I feel like we all evolve technically in the process. It had been a long time since I worked from the model and I can see the impact of those sessions in these recent works.
AFH: Is continuously drawing from the figure something you recommend for all artists, regardless of where they are in their careers?
IE: For me, it is really important. I have been taught that drawing from photographs is an all right substitute, but it really cannot compare. Life-drawing provides an incomparable confidence when trying to paint figures. It offers an understanding of the body you cannot get from copying a photograph. After drawing the model at Will's studio, I can honestly say drawing from the figure is the key.
AFH: Do you feel that early press you received misrepresented either your work or yourself?
IE: The image was not me and it certainly colored how my work was viewed. It was flattering and I would be surprised at anyone turning down an offer to pose in Vogue but I am a lot more wary now of the type of press I receive. A lot of the time I'm bummed that I have to say no.
AFH: What are your concerns?
IE: I say no to a lot of press because I am apprehensive about feeding that image of me as a hipster or me as a fashionista, since it colors the way people look at the work. When people have the idea that they are being force-fed something, they tend not to see it anymore. The press I was getting was making people look at my work like 'the new thing' they were being forced to like, and it was hindering their honest reaction.
AFH: Do you regret your early success and in retrospect wish you had been able to develop your aesthetic longer without the pressure to almost be 'learning in public'?
IE: No, I cannot complain. It fed into my confidence and I am just happy I could quit my day job and make art, instead of scratching at the heels of existence. When I was in art school, I never thought this was possible. I never imagined something like the 80s would happen again. It was a really dire time.
AFH: Do you teach?
IE: No. I don't want to teach. I tried but I had to admit to myself that I really only have something constructive to say to 50% of people. I can't naturally see outside myself. I can only see my own problems reflected in the students and correct them.
AFH: What would you say is the most important consideration for you when painting?
IE: It is really important for me to make work that is for something. I don't have a specific audience in mind when I paint, but I want to make work that reminds people they are alive. I want to remind them of the fun of being a living being. I want my art to prod people into reflecting on the pleasure of moving, feeling, breathing and being alive, right now.
ANA FINEL HONIGMAN is a critic and PhD candidate in art history at Oxford University.
Inka Essenhigh, Wrestlers, 2005
Inka Essenhigh, Brand New Camel, 2004
All images courtesy 303 Gallery, New York and Victoria Miro Gallery, London.
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