Childhood, filled with blurred memories that provide vague ideas of who we might have been, is a worthy subject in art, using nostalgia as its foolproof weapon, makes our eyes watery and invites us into a never-ending spiral of what ifs. Paintings, hung on the walls that observe how we develop our most immediate present, pay tribute to the process of daily introspection that humans carry out unconsciously when they receive even a mere glimpse of what we once were, ate, dreamed, and loved. Elizabeth Dimitroff’s work is based off brushstrokes that capture the ephemeral passing of time and the beauty of its nostalgia.
Through closed eyes and classic colours the artist’s pieces, one way or another, also talk about the present. Whether we like it or not. The British-American artist, who attended the Rhode Island School of Design and the Royal College of Art in London, debuted her solo exhibition at New York’s Yossi Milo Gallery earlier this year. Today, she chats with us to discuss artistic purposes, Sorolla, and her connection with memory through art.
Hello Elizabeth, welcome to METAL! Let’s get to know each other better and break the ice. How would define your current pivotal moment based on the music you’re presently listening to?
I started my day with Curtis Mayfield.
Let’s talk about your artistic roots first. When did you discover your passion for painting? Was it always an option to dedicate your career to the arts? Was there a turning point that led you to it?
It has always felt instinctual to me. I wouldn't describe painting as a decision I made or a career path I chose, it is my centre of gravity and how I make sense of the things. I earned my BFA in Furniture Design at Rhode Island School of Design and my MA in Sculpture at the Royal College of Art. Until I began my MA in 2021, drawing and painting was something I did for myself, on my own terms. In retrospect, I am grateful that my relationship to painting is personal and intimate at its core. Now that I’ve brought painting to the foreground, I feel very lucky to be able to dedicate my time and energy exclusively to it, but I know I will always paint with or without exhibitions.
You have been defined as a nostalgic creator that searches for answers in between memory and truth. But how would you define yourself, as well as your art?
I am in pursuit of creating the impressions of memory rather than a perfect reconstruction. My paintings seek the answer to the following question: To what extent does the archive of my past experiences cohere as a body of knowledge that can be reliably referenced when interpreting the present moment? I have been excited by the way in which this question lends itself to our perception of time. More specifically, the ways in which the site of a significant memory or event has the ability to confuse our perception of the present. We are left to navigate and evolve with these two versions of time and essentially these versions of ourselves.
I am curious about the statement “searching for answers in between memory and truth” in your press release. It is often said that childhood is an ambiguous memory, because it is mostly created by other people’s testimonies about our personas. Where does your art fall in between this? Tell us about your creative process. Where do you start from? Do you have a specific routine, or is it different for every piece?
Memories created in adulthood can be equally ambiguous. We draw upon an inexhaustible stock of experiences, emotions, words and images with which we create associations in order to interpret events as they unfold. Experiences and memories are subjective and malleable. This inspired the title of my first solo exhibition, Afterimage. An afterimage, like a memory, loses shape and fades following initial exposure.
Regarding my studio practice, I find my freedom in routine and discipline. I do not expect great work from myself every day, but I do show up to the studio everyday to create the circumstances for it, regardless of my mood. I find that this relieves the pressure and keeps my process intuitive. When there are periods where I can’t paint (travel, life events or [being] between studio spaces etc) I find that I am looking for paintings in those experiences. Art and life are a soup, not a sandwich.
Regarding my studio practice, I find my freedom in routine and discipline. I do not expect great work from myself every day, but I do show up to the studio everyday to create the circumstances for it, regardless of my mood. I find that this relieves the pressure and keeps my process intuitive. When there are periods where I can’t paint (travel, life events or [being] between studio spaces etc) I find that I am looking for paintings in those experiences. Art and life are a soup, not a sandwich.
Your palette is mostly based on warm and earthy tones, and colour always acts as another character in the story. What’s the role of the palette in your paintings? Why were these colours chosen?
Light tends to be my starting point when I am compositing a new work. I am very intentional and sensitive with my palette, and it is always in service of the light. I’ve found that these aspects of the work can ground and unify the transient and ambiguous components in the work.
All characters have their eyes closed. In a metaphorical sense, it must mean something. And in the artistic sense?
The spaces and the figures in my work are both sentimental and anonymous. Voiding (or closing and concealing) the figures' eyes results in a projection-based form of viewership. Unable to return their viewers’ gaze, these subjects leave audiences free to look and speculate, and to engage the work’s open-ended narratives. The figures are present, but not fully real.
You presented your debut solo exhibition at New York’s Yossi Milo Gallery, at the beginning of the year. What was the experience like?
I couldn't have hoped for a better experience for my first solo exhibition. After the work is finished and delivered, I try to just enjoy each exhibition experience like it’s my last. Yossi and his gallery made this easy to do, they’re a wonderful team and I was excited that the show was well received.
Is there a big difference between being featured in group exhibitions and having your own space? Art is often seen as something decorative or purely stationary, made to hang and fill the walls of houses and museums. Exhibitions, however, are always an opportunity for people to willingly see and appreciate your work in a different way, and also to interact with them. How do you view this experience as a creator?
A group exhibition and a solo exhibition both hold unique and valuable qualities. In group shows, it can be exciting to see how my work can take on new meaning and lend itself to an overarching theme. It’s fun to exhibit work among other artists, to get a sense of how my work feels in new contexts.
A solo show presents an opportunity to control the narrative around the work. The paintings are used to living near each other in my studio, so it feels natural to exhibit them together and allow them to be in conversation.
A solo show presents an opportunity to control the narrative around the work. The paintings are used to living near each other in my studio, so it feels natural to exhibit them together and allow them to be in conversation.
Have you had any memorable (or simply anecdotal) experience with the audience during your exhibitions?
It is important to me to have faith in the audience to contribute to the narrative and to feel free to create meaning for themselves. I like the work to speak for itself and for the conversation to take place between the painting and the viewer. I am always moved when a viewer, audience, or friend relays an experience with one of my paintings or an impact it has had on them.
You have a very personal and distinctive style, but reminiscent of other artists; of other times. I might be too biased because I’m Spanish, but I see influences from, for instance, Sorolla. Not in technique, colour or style, but in the representation of everyday life scenes. He used to say he felt the need to represent social life and struggles, focusing on ordinary people who actually experienced life as it was. What’s your artistic purpose? Is there a social one?
I love Sorolla, a big compliment! I like to ground my paintings in scenes that are vague, yet familiar. The figures are typically isolated, distant and uncanny. I want to experience something subtle and unnamable in each painting and hope that this is mirrored in the viewer's experience with the work as well.
What do you think about the statement: “Everything is already invented”? Did this have an influence when you were searching for your own style?
I enjoy it when I can see (consciously or subconsciously) the way an artist, writer or filmmaker has informed my paintings. A really good piece of art will have an impact on me and show up on the canvas. I don’t search for a style or approach my canvas with an agenda. I just follow momentum and intuition, the rest follows.
Do you plan on trying other techniques, styles or motives in the near future?
I spend a lot of time sketching and drawing (in and out of the studio), but I never take them seriously or consider them as finished works. I’d like to give my drawings a little bit more attention and include them in my body of work going forward.
What does the future hold for Elizabeth Dimitroff?
In my experience, the future has never held what I expected it to; so I will be painting and following momentum and good feelings.
