An interview with artist Judith Vivell of New York City, USA

This is the studio of Judith Vivell, fine artist and new friend. She is represented by the following galleries: Ann Long Fine Art, Susan Calloway Fine Arts, Anne Neilson Fine Art and Huff Harrington Fine Art. I hope you enjoy her work and story as much as I do. To contact Judith: [email protected] And her website is JudithVivell.com  

Welcome, Judith! I discovered your art because of my love for birds. A flock of bluebirds nest in our courtyard and Northern harrier hawks’ mate in the reeds at our pond. The male is called the Gray Ghost because he is white and owl-like. He is a frequent subject of my poetry. How did birds become the focus of your canvases?

As an abstract painter, I was always tied to the world in some way. My earliest paintings were of very abstracted nudes. There was a very extensive series of abstractions from orchids. Each series became more representational, but still loose and very abstracted. One day I saw a photo of a flying bird in the newspaper. I cut it out and painted it on a very large canvas. I had always worked from photographs, so that was not new. After that, I began noticing pictures of birds and wishing I had better pictures of them. I took a trip to the islands and began by taking pictures with an old camera and a 35mm lens. My photos were blurry, but there was something there, and I had loved the experience of watching the birds for hours, waiting for my moment. I got a slightly larger lens for a trip to Nebraska to see the Sandhill Cranes. It was one of the most magical experiences of my life. After that, there was no stopping me. I got a huge 500 lens and began traveling all over the world taking pictures of exotic birds. Every once-in-a-while, I try to paint a series that has nothing to do with birds, but I always come back. For me, birds are a metaphor for art itself.

—That is so beautiful Judith, I have to agree.

Swan at Dawn, oil on canvas, by Judith Vivell, 48" x 60", 2017

 

How did art play a part in your childhood or youth? Tell us the trajectory of your training.

My father was an attorney and a Sunday painter. His gods were the French Impressionists and Post Impressionists. My mother had opted for art school in Paris instead of college. They both knew a lot about the 19^th Century in France and nothing about what was going on in New York in the forties. My childhood home was filled with my father’s copies of his favorite French painters. My parents were Francophiles. When I was very young, we lived in Marin County which is near San Francisco. At that time in the forties and fifties when so much was going on in New York, the San Francisco Museums were still looking back. Our house was filled with art books, and my father had books about such American movements as the Ashcan School and the realists of the thirties. But I don’t think he had even heard of Abstract Expressionism.

When I was in the first grade, I brought home a painting on newsprint done in poster paint of a clown. Both my parents were crazy for this painting and my father immediately put it in the frame that he had his law degree framed in. It happened to be the same size. From that moment on, it was just assumed that I would be an artist. I, of course, hated being told what I was going to do with my life and totally rejected the idea. I began telling everyone that I was going to be an attorney. In my family, they hadn’t gotten the memo about what women could and couldn’t do and my wanting to be an attorney seemed a mistake only because of my “great talent” but in no way because of my sex. Nevertheless, my father never abandoned his idea that I should be an artist. Years later when I was happily studying Political Science at Berkeley, he called me up and said that my sister, who was at Stanford, was going to spend a semester at the Stanford Campus in Florence and he thought it was a perfect time for me to take a semester off and go to Florence too. Well, I wasn’t going to turn THAT down. So off I went to Florence and as my smarty pants dad knew, I fell in love with art, came home to Berkeley and changed my major to Art History. The next thing that happened was that in 1965, I came to New York. I had been accepted at Columbia University to do graduate work in Art History. The New York art world of the sixties was perhaps the most exciting and innovative time in American Art. Abstract Expressionism had just made New York the place to be and now young artists were beginning to experiment with a panoply of other forms. I was enthralled by actually seeing the huge canvases I had only seen in slides in Art History classes before. I had been painting for “fun” that last few years, but now I was inspired. I wanted to know and do everything. After the first year at Columbia, I took a leave of absence and went downtown to The Art Students’ League. I stayed there, all day, every day for three years. I taught English As a Second Language at a night school to support myself. Once again, my father interceded. He called me from San Francisco to tell me that he thought I should get a Master’s Degree in painting. The following year I enrolled at Hunter College where I earned the MA in painting in 1971. That year I had my first Solo show at a little gallery in Soho called Flats Fixed. I also got a San Francisco dealer for silk screens I was doing, and Pace Editions in New York was handling my work.

 

Judith Vivell at home in her Soho, New York City studio.

What is it about art that compels you?

What a great question! I will try to answer by saying that I couldn’t even imagine a life where I was not allowed to express myself, to make something monumental and as perfectly beautiful as I can make it. I don’t understand why every single person is not an artist. It is or can be a way of getting closer to a place that is outside the ego. When you are in “the flow” you experience a lack of fear and something like the consciousness of pure spirit. Glad to see that George Bush is painting. I wish Trump would take up painting and give up politics.

—I'm smiling with you after that one.

Johns and I collaborate on furntiure design since 2008. We talked briefly about how your husband is your studio manager. You mentioned having a great time together! Would you like to share an anecdote of your artistic life at an impressive seventy-seven years old with your husband who is eighty-two...

My husband’s background is in business. When he retired at 65 he went back to graduate school to study architectural restoration. He loves art and architecture. When we got together, he knew nothing about contemporary art and was fascinated with the business side of the art world. He now sees that it is much harder than any other business he has been part of. He also knows a lot about art. He has what we call an “eye”.

When I saw that my husband had free time, I carefully and judiciously seduced him into helping me do the parts of the art business that I didn’t like and didn’t want to spend time on. He was interested in all that if you can imagine! He actually likes business! What a weirdo! I am so grateful to have him. In the beginning, I noticed that he would express a liking for one painting or another, and those were the paintings that SOLD. I began calling him “The Voice of the People”, and gradually began to ask him into my studio after I thought I had finished a painting, just to see what he would say. That was a long time ago. Now I would not think of a painting as “finished” without Gordon’s imprimatur. Some people think of varnishing as the last step in a painting. I think of calling Gordon in as my last step.

 

Cockatoo with a Red Branch, oil on canvas, by Judith Vivell, 48" x 36", 2017

What was your favorite commission?

My favorite commission was a Snowy Owl for a lovely couple who live in a gorgeous house in New Jersey. They have wonderful taste in general and the Owl looks totally perfect and at home over their fireplace. I think that the way the commission looks in its assigned place is as important to me as the painting by itself. It is a very different thing from just painting a beautiful piece and not really knowing where it will end up.

What advice do you have for aspiring young female artists?

The Art world is much better today for young women compared to when I was coming up. But the #MeToo movement has shown us how far away we are from equal. When I was young and scared of starving as an artist, I asked my mother if she thought I should be an artist. She said, “If you have a choice, the answer is no. If you don’t have a choice the answer is yes.”

Once you have decided that there is no choice; that being an artist is the only thing that will make you happy, then be very business-like about it. The business side of being an artist takes up at least 50% of your time. But it’s better than spending 100% of your time doing something you don’t want to do.

 

Great Egret in Mating Plumage, oil on canvas, by Judith Vivell, 48" x 36", 2017 

Is there an artist who has significantly impacted your own work or education?

I studied with many great teachers. Two of my favorites were Morris Kantor and Ray Parker. All my teachers were abstract painters. As a representational artist, I would have to say that I am self- taught. But my work is informed by the experience of being an abstractionist—very much so. If you ask about mentoring, though, which was rare for women in my day, I would have to give my father the credit. He was my first and, really, my only mentor.

What are you reading right now? Who are your favorite authors?

At this moment, I am reading, “A Sense of an Ending," by Julian Barnes. I think naming a favorite author would be like having a favorite child. Each one appeals to me in a different way, and each must be approached differently. But something inside of me rejects choosing a favorite.

Roseate with Wasps Nest, oil on canvas, by Judith Vivell, 48" x 60", 2017

How would you describe the atmosphere of your studio space? Johns’ uncle, American Abstract Expressionist painter, William G. Congdon, had a ritual routine of lunch followed by classical music and a glass of wine in the studio while he painted. I love the picture that paints.

I have continuously had my own studio space either inside or outside my living quarters since my time at the Art Students’ League. I rented my first studio from a drug dealer who was doing a stint in jail. That was my favorite studio of all time. My heart was broken when he got out of jail early and wanted his space back. He was a pretty scary dude, so I didn’t argue with him, even though there were several months left on my lease. I have had my present studio for about 37 years. It is a room that takes up about a third of my Soho loft. It is very clean and organized. I spend quite a bit of time on sweeping and mopping and straightening up. I paint on a wall that is marked with the edges of many paintings. I paint the wall over about every two years. The floor is covered with paint but very clean. There are racks with many paintings in them and map drawers with drawings. There are several cabinets filled with art supplies. On the top of each cabinet, there are objects that I have collected for still life. There are many vases and teapots and baskets and shells. And there is a beloved deer head that I found in a shop on an island in Maine. In the back of the studio, I have an office. It is a personal space filled with pictures of and by my children and grandchildren. Each day before work, I meditate sitting in a chair in this space. I often listen to books on tape as I work.

You raised a family and pursued your art. How did you balance it all?

I have no idea how I did it. When I look back it seems impossible. One day at a time, I guess.

— Judith, you remind me of a fairy queen from the mystical French forest of Brocéliande, with its connections to Arthurian Romance. Noted for its unusual weather, ambiguous location and magic... if any creature belongs there it is the bird first. In truth, people equate the legend with the modern day forest of Paimpont. Maybe we should go there one day. Thank you, dear Judith, for sharing your intimate world!

Who would you invite to dinner if time was no obstacle and you could visit the past? This is a question I ask myself altogether too much! Choose four people if you like...

Well, I would prefer just a lunch with only one of these people at a time, because I would have so many questions and I wouldn't want the time to be taken up with small talk the way it happens at a lot of dinners. I would also want to know that they had to tell me the truth. Otherwise, it would be a waste of time.    I would dearly love to have a few hours with my mother.  I did interview her on tape before she died and I recently found the tape and gave it to my daughter, but there are so many things I would ask her now that I didn't know to ask her then.  I was in my thirties when she died--it would be so different now.  I would love to interview Jesus of Nazareth and find out what he thinks of the religions that have been founded on his teachings.  I would love to be able to speak to my grandchildren when each of them is about forty.  It would be such fun to see how they turned out, what they had done with their lives, what they thought about the world at that time.  

I find your family history fascinating and so you kindly have allowed me to share it with readers. We are the compilation of all the souls that have preceded us...

Here is what I know about my origins. I was born in California 77 years ago.  My mother's family were Criollos from Spain who had a ranch in the area now called San Juan Capistrano at the time that Mexico became independent from Spain.  Her great-grandmother had been one of 12 daughters and they married Europeans who came to California before and during the gold rush.  My Great Grandmother's maiden name was Seivers, as her mother had married a German businessman. She married a Swiss who came to California and opened the Girard Piano Company in Oakland, my grandmother married another businessman named Anderson who came from Sweden.  So you can see that the Spanish blood was diluted.  But I remember that my uncle whose name was Frank Girard, and who was a surgeon, had a palomino pony and was part of a group of Criollos whose families were the original settlers.  They all marched in California Day parades riding their palominos and dressed in their "Grandee" costumes.  So no matter how diluted the blood or European the names, they still considered themselves Criollos and were proud of their Spanish heritage.  I think that is all pretty much in the past now.  I haven't lived in California since I left at 22.  So I really am not in the know on those things.  My father came from an Alsatian family from Baden in Germany.  His grandfather who was evidently a giant and a very good swimmer, swam across the Rhine to escape being inducted into the Prussian army during the Franco-Prussian War.  Vivell is almost French, but actually German--very much Alsatian.  My father's mother was Irish. So I am very much a mutt. 

 Thank you, Jude.