Everyday Beauty
Whether it’s inanimate objects like a plastic bag with a metaphorically loaded smiley face or humans with stories and experiences of their own, the subjects in local artist Amanda Boerger’s work never lack in identity. And as she discovers how to capture each one’s specific energy, she’s looking to the core elements—the shapes that define someone. It’s at the heart of that mentality that she’s able to discover the beauty in the everyday chaos of life.
What’s your visual-arts origin story?
I’ve always made stuff, even as a little kid. I was just describing to someone recently how I remember secretly waking up when I was in preschool and climbing up into the attic, knowing no one knew I was awake. I’d secretly worked on a drawing of my whole family — it was sort of a collage. It was one of my earliest memories of being committed to, and also drawn to, making art. The fun of zooming in on a detailed project. My brother and my sister and I would lie on our bellies and place our bodies near wherever the heater was and draw until we heard my dad’s truck pull up and say, “okay, let’s work on homework.”
I always drew people. I remember at a young age I kind of unlocked the realization that I could have whatever I wanted if I could draw it. I could make this imaginary world a little more tangible. That was really attractive and addicting to me. I drew obsessively, and my stuff was always materializing things I wanted.
I feel like the opposite has happened now. Maybe I’m happy with my life and I don’t want for anything anymore. I’m not painting myself in a ball gown or anything. I think I’ve changed a lot. Maybe I’m just aspirational in the sense that I want real life turned up in terms of the colors.
What attracts you to a particular subject?
I feel like I’m still early in this whole process of creating my body of work and figuring out what I want to do. But really just everyday life is what attracts me. Seeing beautiful moments. I started a painting of my friend holding a dog, and the dog’s squirming. I was really attracted to how to portray that dog squirming — weird, blurry, choppy. I guess I’m really open to anything I see in real life as a subject matter. I like to be influenced by real life.
My pieces of inanimate objects — I feel like all of that work is a bit pop-arty. That’s kind of a past phase. All my work is about people and psychology and identity. I think even just the objects we buy and consume and surround ourselves with could almost serve as a portrait in a way.
What’s your ideal creative environment?
It’s probably more important than I know. It’s always so chaotic in this house. And I think I like it that way. I think my work — and me as a person — is just this balance, this fight between order and chaos. When I’m really in something, I don’t care — I’m dropping things, making this crazy mess. That’s part of the chaos of creating something ordered. In my collage work, there has to be chaos in order to create something organized.
Right now, very little painting is happening. Elmo is on in the background, and I’m pulling my work down into the living room. But in the past, I’ve always really liked morning — getting the craziest coffee high and listening to so much hype music and painting until I’m jittery. That’s what I love — really big feelings.
How do you approach the process of a portrait?
Originally when I look at the picture sent to me or that I’ve chosen, I’m thinking about color from the beginning. Next I’m thinking about the shapes that define a person — maybe that means I look at 20 pictures of the same subject to see angles and shapes. The quintessential pieces of a person. I’m looking at essence, too. It’s a je ne sais quois situation
What are the challenges in painting humans vs. objects?
Painting humans is more challenging. You have a person’s identity and self-image to consider. My biggest thing is that I’m always really afraid of making someone feel bad about the way they look. I guess I’ve approached that more lightly in more recent years when I’ve done so many portraits, saying, “Listen, I’m not that good of a painter, so if you don’t like it, don’t take it personally — let me know.” In that way, inanimate objects are much easier — they’re less sensitive.
How is visual art important for self-expression?
It’s tangible. There’s color, which speaks so well to emotions. And it’s slow — visual art is slow. You have a lot of time to think about what you’re trying to say. In my pregnancy it was also a great outlet — when I switched to doing it full-time. When I was young, I was so much more angsty. My work was terrible, but it was really important to me.
Do artistic tendencies run in your family?
My brother was always good at it. My sister liked to draw — and was even better at ceramics. My grandpa is a good artist. My mom was a lawyer, but not anymore — she’s been painting. I had a double-major and neither was practical — French studies and studio art. My family sort of suggested I choose something else. My dad always said I should be a dietician, because I knew about nutrition at a young age. But now they’re supportive of what I’m doing.
How important is photorealism in your portraiture?
It was more important to me in the past — I’m trying to move away and loosen things up. In the past it was a big concern, but now I have less time, too. That’s the other thing. I just had a show at USD, and it’s called Matrescence. It’s all about moms, especially in the early days after you’ve given birth. Those were nice and chaotic and scribbly. They could’ve even been a step further in terms of scribbliness.
What do you hope a person gets from seeing your work?
I hope it gives them energy. I just sold my last banana — they’re memento mori. A lifecycle. People always like these, because they give them good energy. But there is more depth to them, finding a parallel to the lifecycle of humans. And also finding value in each of those periods of a life. Even with a very dark banana that’s almost done-done, you can make delicious banana bread. And the green one you don’t eat, but it’s got potential.