Suzannah Wainhouse in conversation with Robert Nava & Allegra LaViola
In conjunction with Suzannah Wainhouse’s solo exhibition, Mute Swan, we are thrilled to share the text of a conversation between Wainhouse, the artist Robert Nava, and the gallery’s owner, Allegra LaViola. Their dialogue covers topics ranging from failure, to abstraction, to combat sports.
This conversation has been transcribed from an audio recording and edited for clarity.
Protecting the Invisible, 2022
Acrylic and oil stick on canvas
74 x 61 in.
AL: Hello, welcome to Sargent’s Daughters. I’m Allegra LaViola, the owner of Sargent’s Daughters, and this is Suzannah Wainhouse and Robert Nava. We’re here to talk about Suzannah’s show, Mute Swan.
SW: This work is called Protecting the Invisible, which is a concept that I am always thinking about. This painting in particular is kind of a cumulation and the arrival of all of the players that had to show up for this series. You have some very ancient images here, you have this idea maybe of a spaceship, you have the old and the new, the past and the present.
RN: I’m seeing the sun over this smile and perhaps a dinosaur figure. There’s kind of an overall energy, or some kind of a push with these lines and the movement of either an implosion or explosion.
SW: It’s definitely like a birth. I feel like this was very much a birth of many things, and definitely an explosion of sorts. With the snake and the octopus and these sort of spirits, sort of lingering neither here nor there, and definitely the sun.
RN: I kind of when I first saw the show, I got the idea that, as directional as the lines are, with a sort of flow and movement of the eye, they’re also very thickly painted and have a staunch-like kind of slowed down quality as well. I had this incredible feeling of stasis and flux at the same time, with directionality and velocity.
SW: The velocity here is pretty intense, and there’s a lot of movement in the paint. Many, many layers – this painting probably had at least 6 or 7 paintings on it before it became what it is now. I feel like you can really feel that energy behind what we’re looking at. It’s very much alive.
AL: You’ve spoken before about your interest in revealing the past and having the mistakes or the layers of life be visible in the painting. I think that is something that makes these symbols recede and come to the forefront at different moments as well.
SW: I think remaining vulnerable is so important, and these paintings are very much about success and failure in their own right. Those things happen on all levels, to all people, and that's very much a common denominator here.
SW: There’s the idea of failure and defeat, and then a triumph, a moment. It’s a gasp, where you know you’ve hit on something that speaks to the invisible. I can't put my finger on it; I can’t really write about it; I can barely speak about it. As a visual artist, you have the ability to show those feelings with that level of vulnerability.
AL: Failure is an interesting concept, too. How do you know that a painting is succeeding or failing?
RN: Sometimes you don’t.
SW: And throughout that process there’s pleasure. It’s such an important thing to remember that throughout those highs and lows, those successes and failures, you can experience quite a bit of pleasure.
AL: But people are scared of the word failure.
RN: Just the pressure of the speed. The nature of society now feels like everything has to be a success every time, and you have to forget about the whole notion of failure. Often, some of the best discoveries happen through failure, and I think what could be a failure in a certain time period could easily be a success in another time as tastes keep changing.
AL: And failure is important. If it is really, truly a failure to–
SW: To move forward.
AL: To embrace.
SW: To move forward, regardless of success or failure. Like I said, all things move forward.
Sigil, 2019
Acrylic and spray paint on canvas
66 x 50.5 in.
AL: Robert, do you feel like your symbols and Suzannah’s symbols are connected or draw from similar sources?
RN: I’d like to think that the structure of meaning can come and go with any kind of viewership at any point in time. I like the way that Suzannah’s forms activate something which, in my reading, is very ancient. There’s a lot of ideas of time and space. For me, when I look at Suzannah’s work, I like that it’s taking something that can reach a lot of people’s subconscious. It’s universal and can be both literal and very abstract.
AL: It seems like there is a commonality here in your work and Suzannah’s work, in talking about these symbols. Robert, in your work too, you’re taking well known and iconic forms, but the challenge is seeing them in a new manner.
SW: I think that maybe they come from a similar mythology. We all have only a certain amount to work with at the end of the day; there are circles and squares and lines. And we have worship, and there’s a lot of excitement and adrenaline in these stories. The commonality is Robert’s desire to tell the story and my desire to tell the story as well, and the crossover lies in the ritual of story-telling. I think our images are different, maybe there is a little bit of similarity there, but I think what we share is the desire to tell the story.
Hell’s Bells, 2022
Acrylic on canvas
60 x 69 in.
RN: I know we touched a little on process. I don’t know if it's too much to share or not, but there is something that happens in the movement, in making abstraction, or mark-making. There are decisions that are unconscious or trance-like, but not a full trance because you’re conscious. Here. I’m seeing a little face come out right there, and I don’t know if that is maybe something that’s within the work and is actually happening, or if it’s one of these unconscious things that come about subsequently.
AL: That's an interesting point too, when there’s something that you see fleetingly and you’re not sure if your eye is making it up or if it’s really inherent in the work.
RN: It’s the one thing when I was first learning about looking at abstraction — the thing not to do is to describe things you’re seeing in a non-objective piece of work. But that’s the first thing I try to do. Suzannah, it’s great to see where you believe things happen intentionally or unintentionally.
SW: I’m just jumping on at this point and staying on the ride. I’ll contribute what I have to contribute, but this isn’t my story. I’m just adding what I have.
RN: We both believe in something bigger than you, something that’s older than you.
Archetypes of nature, 2022
Graphite on paper
11 x 8.5 in.
RN: Drawings like these feel like they come so automatically. I know when you hit on the first try. In fighting that's called a flush knockout, not just any knockout, a knockout where the fight lasted four seconds. One shot, one boom, and it’s done.
SW: There’s a lot of drawings on the floor. Boom, boom, boom, didn’t make it.
RN: For me, that might be the greatest feeling.
SW: The knockout.
RN: That quick, one flush, one hit, one time. If you resurrect a painting and bring it back to life that’s cool too. They’re both good for different reasons, but that flash KO is just like when you see it in a highlight reel.
SW: Like when someone gets back up off the ground and really annihilates the oncoming threat and it's over. That is a really, really great feeling, and that’s part of the victory and the defeat. It's really important to show both because it takes so much vulnerability to be able to stand next to something that really took you down, to stand there and hold space with that. You’re like, I know I’m going to get this, but right now it's got me, and that’s a very courageous position to take in the face of all kinds of oncoming situations.
RN: Throughout the whole process, there is an undertone of heroism and championship, in terms of battle and defense and offense. I used to watch a lot of combat sports, sometimes they show the highlight of a fighter, just showing their KO highlights. It’s just all their knockouts, one after another. It makes them look God-like, really unstoppable, like they are closer to perfection. Another one they showed was the twenty greatest comebacks, which shows everyone who’s about to lose, but then they end up winning, and that's good, too. The first one feels like they literally are like Zeus, and then the other one is more like a come-from-behind, the underdog.
SW: Rallying from nothing, when everyone’s given up and turned their backs on you.
RN: The broken spirit. But when you’re at the bottom point, you have the hit. Things are too comfortable sometimes. People can see this in other people’s paintings, when they look way too comfortable, like their soul hasn’t been shattered in years. That's why those paintings look like this.
RN: Instead of that comfortable thing, this is what your hunger looks like.
SW: I feel like, as a painter, I live in those terms many times, but I also feel like a lot of other people probably feel that way as well. They’re just not visual artists. And that's why people have that desire to look at art. Like why are you standing there, what are you looking for? We all do have that desire, we share those feelings, those real highlights and lowlights, and for them to be honored is really important.
Rhythms of Manifestation, 2022, Acrylic and spray paint on paper, 52 x 39 in.
Suzannah Wainhouse (b. 1983, Vermont) is an artist who lives and works in Sagaponack, NY. She graduated from Pratt Institute in 2005 (BA). Wainhouse produces works on paper and canvas that reflect upon the natural world and consciousness. Greatly influenced by the connection and relationship between humans and animals, her paintings are infused with a mythological narrative that binds the human, animal, and anthropomorphic worlds. The imagery and ideas of the ‘Other’ and the ‘Alien’ recur throughout her work, as well as the idea of finding the center or the edge via mystical perspectives.
Wainhouse's recent group shows include AB NY Gallery (East Hampton, NY) and Julien Cadet Gallery (Paris, France), among others. She has a solo presentation with NBB Gallery (Brussels, Belgium) in January 2023. This is her first solo presentation in New York with Sargent’s Daughters.
Robert Nava (b. 1985, East Chicago, IN) received his BA in Fine Art from Indiana University Northwest in 2008, and his MFA in Painting from Yale University School of Art in 2011.
Known for his vibrant and mischievous approach to figuration, Nava’s creatures pulsate in electric colors within the frames of his large-scale paintings. Deceptively spontaneous, these images – heroes in battle brandishing their swords, beasts breathing fire, chariots roaring toward lightness or darkness – are developed in a rigorous process of sketching, then painstakingly committed to canvas through a variety of layered techniques calculated to subvert any sense of planning and structure. Nava’s ‘carefully done wrong’ works, executed in acrylic, grease pencil, and spray paint, are gleeful celebrations of color, line, and pop medieval references; they are likewise meticulous exercises in balance and opposition. Within the boundaries of a single painting or between multiple works spread across his studio floor, forces of rivalry and conflict erupt and dissolve not only among the depicted figures, but the modes of depiction themselves.
Nava’s distinctive visual language is highly personal. It is culled from a myriad of sources that range from ancient Sumerian, Egyptian, and Mayan art, and prehistoric cave paintings, to the powerfully symbolic mandala and such tropes of popular culture as gaming imagery and fantasy genre movies.
Solo exhibitions of Nava’s work have been presented at Vito Schnabel Gallery, New York; Night Gallery, Los Angeles, CA; Sorry We’re Closed, Brussels, Belgium; Pace Gallery, Palm Beach, FL; and V1 Gallery, Copenhagen, Denmark. Nava’s work has been included in group exhibitions at Jeffrey Deitch Gallery, Los Angeles, CA; Carl Kostyal, Malmö, Sweden; and Safe Gallery, Brooklyn, NY, among others. Nava’s work is included in the permanent collections of The Art Institute of Chicago and the Institute of Contemporary Art Miami.
Nava lives and works in Brooklyn, NY.