Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Alice Stone-Collins. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Alice, appreciate you joining us today. Did you always know you wanted to pursue a creative or artistic career? When did you first know?

My grandmother was my first art teacher. She owned a Howard Finster painting that hung in her dining room above the table. The piece is of a man holding the globe on his shoulders with water from the world’s ocean flowing over his body. It wasn’t uncommon to find works of art throughout my grandmother’s home in rural Georgia. Pieces of folk and modern art filled the walls and corners of her home. She taught art for over forty years and filled her life with paintings, sculpture, and sketches, but it was the simple line quality and crude childlike nature of the Finster piece that fascinated me. This man was no Atlas. He lacked broad shoulders, muscles, and grim stoicism. Instead, he seemed very human and determined. As a girl, out of all the artworks in my grandmother’s home, I would stare at the image of the man holding the weight of the earth. Daydreaming about his life, I traced the water that flowed from the mountains onto his flat peach body. Where did he come from? Why did he seem so alone? And why did this image make me feel less alone?

This piece and those questions are still with me. Staying front and center on my artistic path.

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

I live in the Atlanta suburbs with my family. Throughout our days, we navigate suburbia, schedules, and swim and soccer practice. Time together. Time in the car. Traffic. So many hours of the day can fluctuate between intimacy and uproarious laughter with my kids one hour and then loneliness and silence the next.

My work touches the tangible world of suburbia, loss, and our changing environments. It is hard for me not to think about my children when I make work about what I see in our neighborhood. Our next-door neighbor remodeling his bathroom and putting his old tub in the trash. A flooded playhouse in our backyard. A utility company with traffic cones scattered haphazardly on the street. My daughters are in part responsible for these scenes. They constantly make me wonder about the landscape around us and how we are shaped by the worlds we inhabit.

Most of my subject matter is very close to home… literally things I can see outside on a run in the neighborhood. But I do like to create a mythic quality to these places by adding a disorienting sense and flavor to these compositions. Much in the same way you might feel returning to your childhood home after years away. I feel that by taking these very mundane ordinary scenes and bringing them to life I am able to ask the viewer questions of the way we engage with our environment and each other.

I also teach full time at Georgia Gwinnett College in Lawrenceville, Georgia. Most of my classes are in Drawing, 2-D design and Art Appreciation. I enjoy teaching and do feel that it makes me a better and more active artist. My students engage in questions about artists that allow for a sense of community to evolve.

Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?

After I had children, I lost some of my confidence as family life began to take on more of my time and focus. I think in part by the sigma of the art world and thinking that my career as an “artist” and not just an art teacher was over. It took me way longer than I want to admit to take that leap and put my work on social media and instagram and to start reaching out to artists in the areas I lived. I was afraid that because my subject matter wasn’t as politically charged, as aggressive, that it wasn’t successful. But we all need quiet. We all need reflection. And that is what my pieces strive to do now.

Is there mission driving your creative journey?

I feel that so often we are more interested (myself included) in the next thing, that we often forget about what is right in front of us. When I teach, I often talk to my students about the difference between “looking” and “seeing.” In order for us to pay attention to the world around us, we have to be willing to see everything and not mechanically go through the motions. To not just be attracted to the bright and shiny things.
I once read a quote by the artist John Register who said of his western cityscapes and landscapes, “I look for offbeat beauty. I don’t know what I’m looking for until I find it…I like the patina of things that have been battered by life.” I think that is a perfect description for the connection I’m striving for in my work. Something with layers. Something that suggests a story. Multiple stories.

Contact Info:

• Website: www.alicestonecollins.com
• Instagram: @alicestonecollins