We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Ani Rosskam a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Hi Ani, thanks for joining us today. Did you always know you wanted to pursue a creative or artistic career? When did you first know?

I grew up in Roosevelt, NJ, a community of friends and neighbors who moved here to be part of the agro-industrial project the town was built for, many leaving garment jobs in NYC for a better life and conditions. Many artists, writers, musicians, and photographers followed. My parents, both pioneer documentary photographers, came at the urging of friends. Many of my parents’ friends made things, so it seemed perfectly normal for me to make things as well.I don’t think there was ever a specific time that I thought I wanted to be a professional artist. I drew a lot and made things like most kids do, but the difference was that I never stopped and always had an urge to continue making things to this day. As a small child, I made storybooks and long sagas while my friends would watch as we played out the pretend stories. Many of the stories were influenced by world events, movies, books, and toys. One book I remember making came about after the JFK assassination. I called the series The Bennedys. I wrote letters with pictures to George Wallace after TV images showed German Shepherd dogs and police with fire hoses attacking African Americans in Alabama.

At that age, art-making was an unconscious way to process things happening around me, and I still approach my work in a similar reactive way, hoping that viewers can identify with some aspect of the work. I would consider myself a mixed-media artist. I am always coming across and being dazzled by juxtapositions of incongruous objects and materials. In the end, the instinct is to make something out of nothing.

Making order and sense out of these materials is something that evolves as I work, with the process of painting or assembling leading me into unknown territories of texture and abstraction. I put together various materials and sometimes images as a way of piecing together life experiences and creating visual poems or memory associations. Once the process begins, I may add things and then remove others, erasing parts, gluing, and wiping things out until I can finally walk away from it. It’s a little like free associating with physical stuff, using all kinds of materials. By engaging in this small battle, the surfaces are activated, layered, and have a depth of their own. The experience and need to make something is more important to me than defining myself as a professional. I would say it is an obsession that I can’t live without. My work isn’t about being validated by society’s need for recognition through exhibitions, galleries, sales, or reviews, all of which are great, but they are not what motivates me to make the work. My commercial work, though, is a relief sometimes, in that the process is direct and not necessarily personal or about the unknown. It is more about problem-solving and is often a relief to do. It makes for a good balance.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

I live in NJ with my husband, artist Bill Leech..We built our studios and raised our son there.
We chose this area in order to be in the country, while near New York City and Philadelphia and their galleries and museums..
I have been creating art for as long as I can remember and have been fortunate to study in various places, each filled with its own adventures and escapades.
I attended Les Écoles des Arts in Fontainebleau, France, the Tanglewood program in Maine, and the Skowhegan School of Sculpture and Painting, where I formed lifelong friendships, including with my husband, artist Bill Leech.
I studied at the Tyler School of Art and Architecture and later moved to Boston, where I discovered a vibrant community of passionate artists whose work continues to inspire me.
Recently, I exhibited both new and older pieces alongside my husband, Bill Leech. The show, titled “A Wonderful World” and curated by Anne Trauben of The Drawing Rooms in Jersey City, highlighted the individual voices of our work and their interconnectedness.
During the pandemic, I participated in two online exhibitions at Jason McCoy Gallery’s “Drawing Challenge.”
In 2019, several of my paintings and a sculptural scene were included in “Dreaming of Utopia: Roosevelt, NJ” at the Morven Museum in Princeton, NJ. Curated by Ilene Dube, the show featured works by historical and contemporary artists, including Ben and Bernarda Bryson Shahn, Jacob Landau, Gregorio Prestopino, and Jonathan Shahn, among others.
In 2017, James Pustorino curated “The Art Project” at The Oakman in Jersey City, NJ, which included several of my pieces. That same year, I was part of “The Big Small Show” at The Drawing Rooms, curated by Anne Trauben.
My work was also featured in “Artists of Roosevelt” at the NJ State Museum, curated by Museum Director Margaret O’Reilly.
In 2009, I participated in “Meditations on Collage” at the Bridgette Mayer Gallery in Philadelphia, PA, where I exhibited pages from my book “Hecky Book,” inspired by the passing of my mother.
One pivotal moment in my career was a solo exhibition titled “Odd Bedfellows.” This show featured large-scale mixed-media pieces, allowing me to view them together for the first time and understand their relationship to the space and one another.
Over the years, I have received fellowships from the State of New Jersey, had solo exhibitions, and have been included in many group shows. I have participated in several museum shows across the US.
Currently, I am working in my New Jersey studio, focusing on paper-based works with a limited palette. These pieces began as a response to the tumultuous world events we face today. It remains a mystery to me where this journey will lead, both in the studio and beyond.

Have you ever had to pivot?

Out of necessity to work, I very accidentally found myself in architecture, design, theatre, and teaching, with each contributing to a more mature voice as an artist.
Many of these jobs were accidental and led me to pivot in directions I never expected. All of these jobs opened doors to new experiences in the visual world and expanded my skills and understanding of possibilities.
There couldn’t have been a better school than these accidental findings I discovered while pivoting between jobs. I think what has stuck with me more than anything in these various roles are the people I have encountered: artists, clients, fellow employees, workers, craftsmen, artisans, contractors, builders, and professors. They have all really been my teachers. All of these jobs have impacted my personal work as well, allowing me to experiment with various skills and languages acquired.
I have done painting restoration, taught painting and drawing, worked for renowned architects, and collaborated with well-known artists and clients. I worked for and with Robert Mapplethorpe, did custom stenciling for Mike Nichols and Diane Sawyer, created large-scale murals for Tourneau Time Machine at 57th and Madison, as well as murals for Michael Graves’ projects, other architect’s as well as my own clients.
I have painted models and prototypes, created renderings, painted murals, designed surfaces, and consulted on interior and exterior color design.
I assisted Michael Graves with sets and costumes for a Joffrey Ballet production,the neo-ballet “Fire” by Laura Dean, which gave me the confidence to design sets and act in local productions. I have also learned architectural surface restoration, which I applied to the NJ State House and Annex after being trained by a French decorative finish master.
Each one of these various jobs has forced me to pivot quickly and learn as the parameters of each new job presented themselves. I had to teach myself computer programs to adapt to requirements for textile design and graphic design, which then led me to learn printing techniques. I have taught privately and, at some points, even served spanakopita and baklava, and sold coffee cups and linens. By constantly pivoting between jobs and changing direction, my understanding of the visual world has continued to expand, opening my eyes to the power of scale, color, texture, and pattern. I have also learned basic notions of abstraction derived from the process of working in architectural spaces.

Through it all, my priority has always been and still is making my own art. In comparison to some of the commercial work, it may seem humble, but it is my place of refuge. My personal art is my anchor.

For you, what’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative?

I think one of the most rewarding aspects of being an artist is that you are always one, whether you like it or not. It becomes the lens through which you see the world. That’s not to say I don’t sometimes doubt my abilities or question the meaning of my work. Quite the contrary. I constantly view my work with doubt and uncertainty, and that’s precisely why I can’t stop. There’s an unattainable objective that drives me to continue searching for it through the process.
The act of finishing a piece of artwork is both a struggle and a battle. When I finally manage to step away from a piece, there’s a sense of relief and reward, but it doesn’t last.
There have been times, between life’s demands, when I couldn’t be in the studio daily. For me, it feels like holding my breath. Returning to my work is the ultimate reward, much like the involuntary act of breathing. Making art is the closest thing to feeling at home, a familiarity, a place to lose myself. A quiet start inevitably leads to the scuffle of change, risk-taking, and the ongoing struggle to finish a piece. The drive to figure it out is what makes the experience worthwhile.
I guess I’d say this:

Contact Info:

• Website: https://anirosskam.com