JAMES STRECKER: If you were asked for 50 words for an encyclopedia to summarize what you do, or have done, in the arts, what would you say?
JULIE PONESSE: I am a Canadian artist, focusing mainly on landscape and architectural painting, and I regularly teach painting workshops. I am also a full-time Philosophy professor. The latter was my first career. Painting came a little later.
JS: What important beliefs do you express in or through your work?
JP: To be an artist is to be constantly reimagining and re-presenting to others the way one sees the world. To be a painter is to do this in visual terms.
About a year after I started painting seriously, I had to write an artist’s statement. I dreaded this because I didn’t feel there was a discernible theme in my work. I felt pressure to push myself in the direction of painting with a particular message in mind and I worried that the paintings were unimportant if they didn’t convey a particular, unified message. After a while, I realized that it’s okay if my paintings simply tell a story about what I am most excited about, visually, at a particular moment.
Having said that, I think one of the things that most defines an artist’s style is knowing when to quit a painting. One of my favourite quotations about painting is “A painting is never finished—it simply stops in interesting places.” If there is a particular idea I’m trying to express in my work, it’s the idea that a work of art is defined as much by what it leaves out as what it includes.
JS: Name two people, living or dead, whom you admire a great deal and tell us why for each one.
JP: Dennis Hudecki. He was my first Philosophy professor and the first teacher to express real confidence in me as a thinker and a creative person. This confidence pushed me beyond a lacklustre elementary and high school education, and into a deep love of learning in my 20s. Whenever I tackle something new in my life, I can hear him urging me on, expressing amazement, encouragement, and support. Being able to do that for someone else is such an amazing gift. I think we all need someone like that in our lives. Or at least the people who have it are very lucky.
My parents. (I know, that’s a bit of a cheat since it’s two people but it’s true!) My parents have been a great force in my life, doing as much to set an example as providing support and love. Both of my parents have an unwavering sense of integrity, and stick to who they are even when it might be easier to take a different path. They are also great at making everything seem special. Big things like Christmas and Birthdays, and even little things like weekday breakfasts. I think this has had a big impact on my ability to see beauty in surprising places. That they are creative people in their own rights didn’t hurt either.
JS: How have you changed since you began to do creative work?
JP: This is a hard one to answer since I feel that I’ve been doing some form of creative work my whole life. One thing I do feel about creative work—the work of the imagination—is that it’s a necessity for me. I think Western culture, and Western education in particular, largely trains creativity out of us and that’s hard on those of us who have a creative impulse.
There was a time when I thought I had to be more practical in order to succeed in life. I remember when high school friends started getting well-paying jobs in computer and tech companies. I think many creative people feel this way and spend a lot of time trying to convince themselves that art is frivolous or indulgent, and should be put aside for more serious pursuits. I don’t know if creative people are as likely to be materially successful in our culture, but I know I’m much happier for not trying to talk myself out of pursuing a creative life.
JS: What are your biggest challenges as a creative person?
JP: I think the biggest challenge as a painter right now is how to balance creative sincerity with the demand to sell work. I think creative work of any sort is still largely devalued in our society, and so artists struggle with how to make money. One theme I notice among artists who sell well, in Canada especially, is that their work is heavily stylized: every painting looks almost the same but just tackles a slightly different subject. Maintaining that level of stylization—a kind of brand identification, I think—is somewhat at odds with trying something new, branching out.
I do think that creating predictable work that fits into a recognizable style sells. But it’s not what keeps my creative ‘juices’ flowing. I don’t want to feel like I am making art on an assembly line. I want to keep pushing myself out of the comfort zone. I want to paint subjects that are typically difficult for me. I want to see colour in new ways, blur edges almost to the point of confusion, and be brave enough to subtract just a little more detail.
JS: Please describe at least one major turning point in your life.
JP: Not many people know this about me but, when I was very young, I lost my only sister. Perhaps it’s an odd thing to have one’s turning point be at such an early age but it has had a big impact on how I see the world and how I approach things in my life. It made me very sensitive and also very appreciative of little things. These are skills that are indispensable for the artist since they make you aware of—look closer at, ask questions about—the subtleties in your environment. They make you slow down or even stop and really look at what you are seeing, and think about why little things matter.
JS: What are the hardest things for an outsider to understand about what you do?
JP: People often say, when they view my paintings or watch me paint, that it looks so loose or effortless. I think it’s hard for people to understand how much work goes into getting to the point where it’s possible to make something look easy.
Carol Marine, a wonderful daily painter from Oregon, tells the story of how she responds to people who ask “How long does it take you to finish one of these paintings?” Her answer: “20 years plus 2 hours” (it took her 20 years to get to the point where she can paint one small painting in 2 hours). That’s so true. Last week, I painted a quick little plum in a workshop. It was loose and free but it really captured the essence of that plum, and I thought to myself, “I never would have been able to do this a few years ago.” But the point is that it took years, and a lot of hours and practice to get to the point where I could do it (relatively) effortlessly.
(By the way, painting is never effortless. Not for me anyway. But it does start to feel a little more natural after a while.)
JS: How and why did you begin to do creative work in the first place?
JP: I don’t think I remember a time when I wasn’t doing something creative. Even when I was 4 or 5, I remember cutting and colouring cardboard boxes to make a little house. I still have ambitiously conceived (but so far incomplete) crochet projects from that age, and half-stitched doll clothes. A big part of what drew me to Philosophy, actually, is its inherent creativity: thinking through a problem, and devising as elegant a solution as possible.
Perhaps a better question for me is why did I begin to do creative work in a professional sense? I loved my career in Philosophy. But as I taught and researched, I missed painting. I missed telling a story visually, in a limited space. I missed mixing piles of paint and staining the canvas with a colour I had made myself. I remember driving down the highway and noticing a field fade into the horizon and wonder ‘how would I paint that?’ I’m sure I had those thoughts for years before I decided to try and paint what I saw. My first painting as an adult was of a little cottage in Bayfield, Ontario. I set up my easel in the park across the street and did a quick little 5×7 study. The roofline was all wobbly and I’d forgotten most of what little I knew about perspective and colour mixing but I managed to capture something of the way the light dappled the roof that day. I still have that painting.
JS: What haven’t you attempted as yet that you would like to do and please tell us why?
JP: I would love to become a better plein air painter. It is so invigorating to try to capture the essence of a scene that changes so quickly—sometimes in a matter of moments. I think you can learn so much more about your subject by painting in this way than by working slowly on a piece in the studio from a photograph. I know that doesn’t count as something I “haven’t attempted” but I’ve done it so little that the thought of it still feels like a new challenge but in that ever-so-slightly-nauseous-but-giddy-sort-of-way. Now that we’re into -10 weather, though, I may put this on hold for a few months!
JS: What are your most meaningful achievements?
JP: This will seem like a dodge but I don’t think I’ve had my most meaningful achievements yet. Perhaps I am overly optimistic about the future, or not sufficiently proud of the past, but I have a feeling that the most productive, meaningful parts of my life are yet to come. *Fingers crossed.* Ask me again 10 years from now?
JS: What advice would you give a young person who would like to do what you do?
JP: A philosophy professor of mine once told me that the advice he gave to those considering a career in Philosophy was “If you can imagine yourself doing something else, do it!” I think the idea is that the creative life—of whatever form—is hard. There is no coasting or coat-tail riding, you have to be resilient when you are least able to be, and there is the constant fear that the flow of ideas that has supported you up to a point will one day run out. But despite all of that, artists who love what they do will tell you there is nothing they would rather be doing. So, I guess my advice to a young person would be to ask this crucial question: “Could I imagine doing anything else?” If the answer is ‘no,’ then pursue it wholeheartedly come what may.
JS: Of what value are critics?
JP: I think critics are a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I worry about people attaching too much value to what critics say as though an expert’s opinion is a good substitute for personal preference. I think it makes less sense to talk about good and bad art than art that speaks more and less to us.
That said, I think critics can help to educate the public about why art in general is of value and why, given the sheer volume of mediocre art in our culture, there is a difference between mass-produced art and art that is the result of careful study of one’s subject. I think the critic can also help us to understand why the process behind creating an original work of art—often, the result of many years of study, practice, and trial and error—impacts its value.
JS: What do you ask of your audience?
JP: This one is pretty simple. Stop, look, and see if it speaks to you. If it doesn’t, move on and search for something that does. If it does, let yourself enjoy it, and maybe ask yourself why you like it. Feel free to like what you like. Welcome art into your life. Support the arts and artists in society. We will all be better for it.
JS: What specifically would you change about what goes on in the world and the arts?
JP: Oh, don’t get me started about the change that is needed in the world. Could I get another 20 answers for that? If I stick to the arts, though, one of the things that worries me most is the homogenization of tastes and preferences. I worry that the internet, and social media in particular, has made us more self-conscious about whether our tastes are ‘in step’ with those of others, and more worried about whether our artistic preferences will be accepted by others.
I do think this can be offset by creating a greater appreciation for the arts in society, especially by helping children to develop their own tastes early on. A friend of mine, who has a 12-year-old son, has a wonderful idea. Every time they go on a trip, he gives his son $50 to spend. But there are two conditions: 1. He has to spend it on a piece of art, and 2. He has to explain why that piece speaks to him. I think that’s brilliant! My friend is not only teaching his son that art has value but is using art as a way to help him figure out who he is as a person by helping him to figure out what he likes and doesn’t like.
JS: If you could relive one experience from your creative life, what would it be and why would you do so?
JP: Last spring, I participated in a ‘quick paint’ competition at a local plein air festival. We had two hours to paint a bustling Saturday morning market scene. Wow, those two hours just flew by! I was so focused on observing and processing what I was seeing that it felt like only a few moments. To top it all off, I won the contest! I wouldn’t mind reliving those 2+ hours again. But, of course, doing so would only take “a few moments”!
JS: 16 Tell us what it feels like to be a figure who is presented somehow in the media. What effect does this presence have on you?
JP: Hmm, I’m not sure I have a much of a media presence but, if I did, I would worry a bit about it. I am quite private and I value anonymity a great deal. I think I tend to present myself piecemeal to the world. I wouldn’t say people get a false impression of me, but they are likely only to get one chapter at a time. To push the metaphor, few people get to read the whole book in one sitting. In many ways, I am a person displaced from another era, one in which news traveled slowly and arrived by post rather than by ‘mouse’ click. I do have a social media presence, and I value the connections with other artists which that makes possible, but it all still feels a bit unnatural to me.
JS: Name two places you would like to visit, one you haven’t been to and one to experience again and briefly tell us why
JP: Scotland. My ancestors on my mother’s side are from Scotland and so I feel a connection to the place and a desire to see where they came from. But I am also just intrigued by the rugged, prehistoric quality of the land.
Vermont. I have been there many times but could go again and again, and never tire of it. It’s hard to explain why. There is the obvious beauty of the Adirondacks, with their waterfalls, wildlife, and blankets of green rolling over the mountains, but there is something more than that. It is a cozy place, and that will always draw me.
JS: Please tell us about one or more projects that you have been working on, are preparing, or have recently completed. Why do they matter to you and why should they matter to us?
JP: I am nearly finished painting for a show that will hang early next week and open next Friday. It is a show of largely architectural pieces, scenes of and from the streets of Niagara-on-the-Lake. Initially, I thought this would just be about painting the architectural features of Niagara’s streets, but it became much more than that. Several of the pieces are nocturnal (or night) paintings, which I only started to do a few months ago. I also incorporated humans and animals for the first time. Eeek! But perhaps the most important thing that came out of these pieces, by accident really, was trying to create a sense of the viewer being in the piece, herself. And this made me think a lot about the significance of place, why it matters so much, what we have lost when we are displaced or have no place to call our own. I hope the pieces in this show speak to the viewers’ sense of place and give an instant impression of the mood of the places I have painted. I hope the viewers feel transported for a little while to the scenes in the paintings and have good memories, maybe, of places that have had meaning for them.
JS: Let’s talk about the state of the arts in today’s society, including the forms in which you work. What specifically gives you hope and what specifically do you find depressing?
JP: I mentioned earlier that I think there is a general lack of appreciation for the arts in society. That is a depressing thought, but perhaps not an uncommon one among artistic people. That said, I think there is a growing amount of interest in personal artistic expression, in people who want to do art themselves. (The “Paint Night” phenomenon is a case in point.) I wonder, though, if this is helping or hurting the wider artistic community. I worry a bit that this ‘how-to,’ consumer-oriented form of painting gives a false impression as to the ease with which art can be created, but I also wonder if it is a first step towards the public becoming more interested in art, itself, and in the artistic process. We’ll have to wait to see how this plays out.
JS: Finally, what do you yourself find to be the most intriguing and/or surprising thing about you?
JP: To be honest, I don’t think I surprise myself very often. For the most part, I like the things and people I did when I was much younger, though perhaps I’ve discovered better, more interesting, or more fulfilling versions of these, and in surprising places.
One thing others might find surprising about me is that I really love flaws. Cracks in old plaster. Wobbly rooflines. Brushstrokes that are never quite straight…or complete…or in the right spot. There’s so much beauty in imperfection.
One last thing. I find it quite surprising that I’ve done some things in my life that make others want to interview me. I hope I haven’t disappointed.
