We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Rhesa Paul. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Rhesa below.
Rhesa, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. Can you talk to us about a project that’s meant a lot to you?
The most meaningful project I’m currently working on is titled, Their Beginnings and Mine. It’s four years in development and has taken me down paths of self-reflection, appreciation, and family history. A prompt for a project I was welcomed to work on became the catalyst, where I had to make a painting based on family history. During the height of the pandemic, in the summer of 2020, the prompt allowed me to ponder how to convey family and history through oil painting. My family is from the Caribbean islands of St. Vincent and Dominica, so I had many approaches. However, what finalized my inspiration was after taking time to flip through family photo albums. Though I’ve gone through them multiple times beforehand, I searched through the same negatives, Polaroids, and faded Kodak prints with intentionality this time. A common theme was the domestic space, the people and objects that complimented each photo’s composition. My relatives posed with this look of ease, whether under the bright sun, standing in my grandfather’s garden, or on a porch with the seaside in the background. I’ve never visited my family’s islands yet, which takes an interesting perspective shift when explaining and painting about places I’ve never occupied before. However, some things hold an incessant connection to these places despite distance, location, and time. Photographs, decor, and plants are extensions of the individual who dedicated time to create and care for them. They also hold a history of craft, functionality, and agriculture.
The painting then, in turn, became a still life of plants and vases that I had cared for in my space at the time. Their Beginnings and Mine (2020) illustrates glass and ceramic vases and plants native to the tropics, including a cane, palm, and croton. These are abundant in West Indian islands, and I wondered about the beauty of having them in my Brooklyn home, all under the same sun. This continuity element intrigues me, and since then, I’ve collected objects that act as containers, preloved baskets, and fibrous textiles. TBAM has grown into an ever-present body of work culminating in paintings, printmaking, sculpture, and process video. I focus on material and craft exploration, where I reiterate and memorialize objects familiar to Caribbean domestic spaces I collect through these mediums. I’m curious about what will shift when I travel to my family’s islands.
Rhesa, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?
I’m a visual artist based in New York City. I’m happy to have been born and raised in Brooklyn to West Indian parents and have been a creative here ever since. I’ve always been the artsy kid in the class, and I eventually went to an art high school and then studied Fine Arts at the School of Visual Arts. Along with painting, I enjoy playing the piano and drums, curating my closet with style and longevity in mind, and learning to cook and bake West Indian dishes. I work across mediums, but I’m primarily an oil painter and collector of beautiful objects. My collection and space are filled with preloved baskets and ceramics. Currently, I’m working as a studio coordinator and art handling assistant while cultivating my practice. It’s my goal to continually immerse myself within spaces that encourage personal and creative growth, which allows me to be surrounded by other amazing artists of all backgrounds. Connections inform growth, and I’ve taken it upon myself to dedicate myself to these environments and people who care for that within themselves. In high school, I had the opportunity to be a young artist at Free Arts NYC, an outlet for artistic direction and mentorship. Headed by Liz Hopfan and a dedicated team of industry creatives, the non-profit has been a community for me and continues to be for young people in New York City. I’m proud that I’ve grown in my attention to detail and dedication to a process where I can apply these skills in professional and artistic circumstances. My creative practice culminates in material exploration, collecting, and developing iterations. Working with oil paint and drawing inspiration from everyday objects with Caribbean notions to the history of craft and care, I create iterations of these objects on canvas. My current series, Blueprints, is a part of my larger body of work, Their Beginnings and Mine. I’m interested in everyday objects and how they correspond to a person’s individuality: a style, a heritage, a culture. The more I look at home decor, baskets, tapestries, interior spaces, and decoration styles, the more I become interested in capturing its essence. I work with a limited palette for my blueprint paintings, having little to no color rendering to remove the context and inclination to be realistic. The craft of basketry speaks to a more conducive labor that extends to an individual’s technique, time, and manual dexterity. It all ties to navigation as well. Mundane everyday objects are appreciated through a cycle of how much they can be processed and marketed visually, reproduced, and repositioned in space. When I dedicate time to detail these “blueprints” of idealized baskets, these elements come to mind. I’m proud of my heritage and how interconnected every aspect of craft and visual art can be in an endless sea of curiosity. Working on a new composition or simply looking up why some plants intertwine themselves is as if I’ve found gold. I approach my practice as malleable and aspire to learn, reflect, and iterate, as there’s no defined end.
In your view, what can society to do to best support artists, creatives and a thriving creative ecosystem?
I hope someone can take this for their own encouragement. I had to pivot in how I perceived myself. For the longest time, though I never actively thought it to be true, I never lived my day-to-day life as someone who could be what I am now. I had to learn that I am qualified to do the things I put my mind to and the goals I dream of achieving. This doesn’t only apply to creatives; it applies to all people and areas of our lives. After experiencing burnout, I realized I was holding myself back from taking risks and opportunities because it became unknown territory to try at something the next time. It wasn’t easy, but over time, I’ve arrived at a place where I’m actively surpassing that perception and withholding mindset to remain confident and self-assured. Having this in my back pocket allows me to enter spaces that want to instill the false sense of being intimidating when arriving with your authentic self. I want to be an example, especially for younger people who want to walk a similar path as a creative. There’s potential already within ourselves, and that’s realized when you surmount to the fact that you’re qualified from the start.
What do you find most rewarding about being a creative?
The most rewarding aspect of being an artist is the many opportunities to be multifaceted, fun, and spontaneous. In a way, anyone can be a creative because the arts are so intertwined into our everyday lives; there are spaces and niches for everyone. Every day is a conversation, a new person or material to converse with, learn from, and change how the world is viewed. I love that I can decide one day I’m just going to paint every evening, then the next be a teaching artist for an afternoon with young people. I’m happy I can visually express myself and my ideas with color, texture, and found objects. At the end of the day, it’s a lifestyle that takes time and dedication to curate and to find meaningfulness all throughout.
Contact Info:
- Website: www.rhesapaul.com
- Instagram: rhesapaul
Image Credits
Rhesa Paul