Jamie Earnest (b. 1994, Decatur, AL) completed her BFA at Carnegie Mellon University, Pittsburgh, PA. Raised in rural Alabama, Jamie Earnest is best-known for her paintings and sculptures that explore themes of classic southern virtues that exist at odds with the collectivist, exclusionary narrative of southern hospitality. By employing specific symbols and narratives, Earnest attempts to come to terms with her own southern upbringing, which often feels contradictory with the social climate of her home state. Earnest lives and works in Pittsburgh, PA.
Published on March 19th, 2023. Artist responses collected in months previous.
What are you fascinated with right now?
I’ve been fascinated with the juxtaposition of oil paint with other materials. Materials like cement, wax, and metal. While oil paint has the ability to make a visual interpretation of a texture, I have been interested in how oil paint interacts with a material (or materials) that holds much more weight and physical texture. There is something uncanny about this combination that has been exciting to me, and I’ve been incorporating that materiality into my paintings.
What advice would you give your younger artist self?
Being an artist is not easy. Artists are the empathy muscle of society. This means that artists encounter and process sadness, disappointment at broken systems, all while trying to make sense of this through creating. Artists have the privilege to challenge those systems, to question empathy, to create conversations out of experience and compassion. Art, for me, is like a wacky form of therapy. I would remind my younger self that being an empathetic and creative person is a gift, but it also somewhat of a weight. The financial value of artists in our society is not in line with the emotional, generational, and historical traumas that artists try to make sense of through our work. Though placing numerical value on artwork and artists can be difficult, I remind myself that artists wield the most incredible power of all – the opportunity to channel empathy into productive and meaningful conversations through a piece of artwork. Yes, the strife of an artist is uneasy, painful at times, and uncertain – but I remind myself that what we create as artists has much more value in our culture and society than we are able to see in certain moments throughout our career.
What are your tools for creative resilience these days? Do you have any methods to stay positive when life becomes difficult and perhaps when you have limited time to create?
My creative output is, unfortunately, tied in pretty closely to my mental health. If I’m feeling depressed and anxious, I find it incredibly hard to make work or even get to my studio. This can last for weeks at a time. I’ve learned that for me personally, taking care of myself mentally is the best tool I have that allows me to access my creative output. If I keep my sleep cycle in check, keep an organized schedule, and learn to acknowledge and then let go of negative thoughts – I am much more clear-headed and able to exercise my creative muscle. Additionally, as I’ve mentioned in the last two iterations of TWIRL, the acceptance of failure and not being afraid of failure has given me more space to find my own confidence and resilience within my art practice.
What is your dreamy vision for your creative career and art practice three years from now?
Three years from now, I think I’d like to be in grad school for my MFA. I miss being around the mentorship and engaging research environment that an academic structure can provide. If I’m missing that community now, I’m wondering how to make it a reality – maybe it’s not grad school, it could take the form of something else, such as an art collective or an intensive residency or fellowship. I think it is up to me to decide how to manifest that mentorship and community around my practice. That, I guess, is the dreamy version – figuring out how to create or engage with a community for the betterment of my practice. I might not be sure what that looks like yet. I’m still creating and planning that ‘dreamy vision’ of my creative career.
How are you being kind to yourself as you look towards realizing your vision for your art career?
Because my practice and creative muscle are so tied to my mood and mental health, I’ve been leaning into some therapeutical practices when things seem too hard, or if I’m letting the voices of self-doubt get to me. I’ve been practicing radical acceptance, which is a distress tolerance practice that focuses on sitting with and accepting things that you cannot immediately change. I may not be able to immediately change a painting decision I made, or how much I sometimes let my self-doubt affect my momentum, but I can change the way I feel about those things. The most important part of this process is to radically accept your circumstances without any judgement of yourself, your actions, or the situation. It’s kind of like the saying “it is what it is”, and then asking yourself “Ok, so how do we move forward from here?”. Sometimes the negative self-talk that we've dealt ourselves needs a bit of wrangling, lest it be our downfall.
What are you fascinated with right now?
I’ve been fascinated with the juxtaposition of oil paint with other materials. Materials like cement, wax, and metal. While oil paint has the ability to make a visual interpretation of a texture, I have been interested in how oil paint interacts with a material (or materials) that holds much more weight and physical texture. There is something uncanny about this combination that has been exciting to me, and I’ve been incorporating that materiality into my paintings.
What advice would you give your younger artist self?
Being an artist is not easy. Artists are the empathy muscle of society. This means that artists encounter and process sadness, disappointment at broken systems, all while trying to make sense of this through creating. Artists have the privilege to challenge those systems, to question empathy, to create conversations out of experience and compassion. Art, for me, is like a wacky form of therapy. I would remind my younger self that being an empathetic and creative person is a gift, but it also somewhat of a weight. The financial value of artists in our society is not in line with the emotional, generational, and historical traumas that artists try to make sense of through our work. Though placing numerical value on artwork and artists can be difficult, I remind myself that artists wield the most incredible power of all – the opportunity to channel empathy into productive and meaningful conversations through a piece of artwork. Yes, the strife of an artist is uneasy, painful at times, and uncertain – but I remind myself that what we create as artists has much more value in our culture and society than we are able to see in certain moments throughout our career.
What are your tools for creative resilience these days? Do you have any methods to stay positive when life becomes difficult and perhaps when you have limited time to create?
My creative output is, unfortunately, tied in pretty closely to my mental health. If I’m feeling depressed and anxious, I find it incredibly hard to make work or even get to my studio. This can last for weeks at a time. I’ve learned that for me personally, taking care of myself mentally is the best tool I have that allows me to access my creative output. If I keep my sleep cycle in check, keep an organized schedule, and learn to acknowledge and then let go of negative thoughts – I am much more clear-headed and able to exercise my creative muscle. Additionally, as I’ve mentioned in the last two iterations of TWIRL, the acceptance of failure and not being afraid of failure has given me more space to find my own confidence and resilience within my art practice.
What is your dreamy vision for your creative career and art practice three years from now?
Three years from now, I think I’d like to be in grad school for my MFA. I miss being around the mentorship and engaging research environment that an academic structure can provide. If I’m missing that community now, I’m wondering how to make it a reality – maybe it’s not grad school, it could take the form of something else, such as an art collective or an intensive residency or fellowship. I think it is up to me to decide how to manifest that mentorship and community around my practice. That, I guess, is the dreamy version – figuring out how to create or engage with a community for the betterment of my practice. I might not be sure what that looks like yet. I’m still creating and planning that ‘dreamy vision’ of my creative career.
How are you being kind to yourself as you look towards realizing your vision for your art career?
Because my practice and creative muscle are so tied to my mood and mental health, I’ve been leaning into some therapeutical practices when things seem too hard, or if I’m letting the voices of self-doubt get to me. I’ve been practicing radical acceptance, which is a distress tolerance practice that focuses on sitting with and accepting things that you cannot immediately change. I may not be able to immediately change a painting decision I made, or how much I sometimes let my self-doubt affect my momentum, but I can change the way I feel about those things. The most important part of this process is to radically accept your circumstances without any judgement of yourself, your actions, or the situation. It’s kind of like the saying “it is what it is”, and then asking yourself “Ok, so how do we move forward from here?”. Sometimes the negative self-talk that we've dealt ourselves needs a bit of wrangling, lest it be our downfall.
Find Jamie Earnest on Instagram