We caught up with the brilliant and insightful M. Aurora Oliva a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

M. Aurora, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Did you always know you wanted to pursue a creative or artistic career? When did you first know?

I’m an abstract mixed media artist. Just before turning 50, I finally allowed myself to admit that I wanted to become an artist. Born in the Philippines, I immigrated to the United States with my parents in the 1980s. I called New Jersey my home for more than two decades. I have no formal background in art but as a child and young adult I was creative and loved visiting museums. I remember tacking a poster of Mary Cassatt’s “The Child’s Bath” in my room in high school or the time I devoured Hayden Herrera’s biography of Frida Kahlo in college. Art was always in me, but it stayed quiet beneath the surface. An idealist, I pursued a professional career in the nonprofit sector, including working at a national women’s organization in New York City. I eventually moved to Portland, Oregon and found myself fundraising for local and national environmental groups.

Looking back, art and creativity have always been part of my core being. However, for decades I ignored the internal whispers and often put more weight on external demands and advice of others.

The social isolation during the COVID pandemic gave me the time to be self reflective and explore new things such as painting. The quarantine forced me to reevaluate my life. I asked an important question: What brings me joy and what brings me alive? The answer was clear – I am my truest self when I am painting.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

Art-making is transformative and to become a fully-fledged working artist I needed to surround myself in an environment that supports my vision. It all started with messing around with paint on index cards. For me, painting was all about play and having no rules. In 2021, while in the middle of social distancing, there was the 100 days art making challenge on Instagram, and I got completely addicted to it. It was a rabbit hole that, frankly, I haven’t climbed out of. Each day I painted or drew, and I just got better. I have no formal arts degree, and I rely on intuition. During this time, I watched a ton of YouTube videos. Nicholas Wilton, Betty Franks, Judy Woods, and Louise Fletcher were my online art companions. Free online workshops and podcasts kept me curious and occupied. As days of painting turn into months, then years, an internal change occurred in me. It kept me wanting more and to go bigger and more complex.

The process of painting (or really creating anything) requires internal conversations. Sometimes quiet. Sometimes loud. To me making art is a series of yes’s and no’s. “This is what I like. This is what I don’t like.” Painting allowed me to be attuned to what I wanted in art and in life. This daily practice is addictive and meditative, especially when I am so engrossed during the flow state. There was a turning point when my self-confidence could not be ignored and painting for myself was no longer enough. I actually want to share it.

In 2022, I joined a volunteer-run community gallery called Village Gallery Arts. It was my first foray in trying to sell my work outside of my family and friends. A year later, I had decided that if I was to really take my art seriously I needed to get out of the master bathroom to do my art. (Yes, it was a big bathroom that had the best lighting because of the skylight!) I applied and was juried into the Sequoia Gallery + Studios. Though my time there was brief before its closure, having a large studio and designated space to create and be amongst working artists was an important step. Monthly open studios at Sequoia gave me the opportunity to speak to the public about my work and process. Open studios forced me to figure out how much I should charge for my paintings or what apps I needed to process my sales. Surrounding myself with other creatives and people who support the arts is an important boost as an emerging artist. It helped me stay the course when self doubt arose.

In 2024, after three and a half months at Sequoia, I moved my art practice at the Carton Service Building in Northwest Portland. My studio is part of an industrial complex and sister studios that houses so many seasoned creatives. Being in this building and creative environment has allowed me to focus on improving my craft and has given me access to a swath of other professional artists that I can talk with and learn from. The move also has given me the opportunity to become part of the two biggest and highly attended open studios in the area: Portland Open Studios and Northwest Marine Art Works Open Studios.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

Art is very personal and the process of making it is an inside job. The viewers or consumers of our work are nourished by our authenticity and truthfulness. What you see that’s hanging on my wall is merely the artifact of all those internal decisions that I made. A painting is a culmination of lessons learned from previous successes and failed attempts. There’s a quote from American music producer Rick Rubin that I go back to all the time: “The audience comes last. I believe that. I’m not making it for them. I’m making it for me. And it turns out that when you make something truly for yourself, you’re doing the best thing you possibly can for the audience.”

I believe my job as an artist is to be authentic and truthful to myself. This authenticity comes out as “style” and style comes from knowing what lights me up.

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

The most rewarding aspect of being an artist is the ability to connect with people without words. Art allows me to share the light that is burning inside of me. When I sold one of my first big pieces, “Les Mères: The Mothers,” the buyer had an instant connection. She could not fully describe her feelings, but the work encapsulated a host of emotions and a mood that she understood immediately.

The power of art is real. It transcends languages and cultures. Ultimately, it has changed me for the better.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.auroraoliva.art
• Instagram: auroraolivart
• Other: Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/auroraoliva.bsky.social

Image Credits

Photos by M. Aurora Oliva