We recently connected with Holland Cunningham and have shared our conversation below.

Alright, Holland thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. We’d love to hear about a project that you’ve worked on that’s meant a lot to you.

One of my most meaningful projects was one called “49 Things”. My husband of 21 years died of brain cancer at age 49. I decided that in honor of him I would make 49 small paintings of his “things”. This project took about 3 and a half years. I think I got to about 20 and I ran out of “things” so I added to the collection exact painted replicas of notes from our children to him as well as some of his special memories during his lifetime. It was cathartic and I was so proud of the finished piece. He was obsessed with the number 7 and each painting was made on a 6×6 board in a grid of 7 by 7. Seven rows of seven paintings equal 49 which was his age when he died. The 6 x 6 size was important because he lived 6 years after being told he would only live 12 months. I loved this piece because when it was hanging it was more than just a collection of paintings but almost sculptural. To me, each painting was an object and special on its own. Together they added up to a life well lived, albeit too short.

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 was born in southwestern Virginia and growing up in the 70’s meant entertaining oneself. My parents were not organizing playdates and we were not summering in the Hamptons. Summer days were long; unlike my own children I had to make my own fun. My best friend Alice and I HAD to be creative. We played Little House on the Prairie and made our own bonnets and dresses, used actual lanterns that I found in our garage (could have caught the neighborhood on fire) and paid my little brother to be baby Carrie. We were resourceful. We made forts outside with the beds being made from piles of pine needles. Some days we would go to Mick or Mack grocery store with our mothers and take cardboard boxes from the large bin where they were giving them away. We would create elaborate doll houses – wallpapering with fabric and making furniture with balsa wood. Today, I still make models and work on dollhouses to use in my practice. I recently finished a shell grotto in one of the houses. This involved collecting tiny little shells to glue on to the walls. When I look back I realize how lucky we were to have had the opportunity to use our creative minds as the summer ticked along. There was one summer we even tried to dig a pool in my backyard. Needless to say it ended up as a pool of mud. To this day I still paint empty pools as a throwback to those summers. Our memories are formed or at least partly formed by looking at photographs from our past. I became fascinated with found photography and “other people’s memories” when I came across photos in flea markets and antique shops. Our memories are sacred and there in a box in a junk shop is a collection of memories sold for a dollar a piece. I started making paintings from the photos that I would buy and collect. I continue to paint “other people’s memories” as well as empty pools, tennis courts and places that hold memories – good and bad. Most of those paintings are small. I find that they are intimate and ask the viewer to get closer. The name of my last solo show at Voltz Clarke Gallery was entitled “Come Closer” where I combined that body of work with some paintings I had made as a visiting artist at the American Academy in Rome. While there, I focused more on the work of Renaissance painters and details from those paintings. Usually an awkward pose or expression. I try to make work that triggers something different in everyone who views it. My brother and I were close growing up, and I am always surprised that when we go back to look at our family albums together, my memory is completely different from his memory in any particular moment captured on film. We project our own desires or past memories onto the photographs or later paintings that I make. That is my hope. I am always interested when clients share with me what my paintings mean to them and why they were drawn to them in the first place.

I remember a few years ago my boyfriend (now husband) asked me what my goals were in terms of my work. It was a great exercise to think about that. One of my goals is to have an international presence. I have been studying Italian for the last 15 years and I will make any excuse to get over there. I really just want people to be able to connect in any way, shape or form to my paintings. One of my most meaningful accomplishments was to be accepted as a visual artist to the American Academy in Rome. There I learned not only from other visual artists but from writers, architects and scholars as well.

When I think back to my childhood in Virginia I realize that much of my work has to do with domestic space and what happens (or doesn’t happen) within or around it. My next body of work will hopefully combine some of the dollhouses and models with the paintings that I make from found photography. And my hope is that the work will continue to evolve and change and merge while still keeping the theme of what remains when all is said and done

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

There are so many things that are rewarding as an art history major in college, I would pour through art books every day and I’d think to myself that this is part of my job! The research part of my job as an artist is wonderful. In my world traveling and seeing art from prehistoric times to the most contemporary (in books and in reality) provides not only further knowledge but it also fuels the fire for future projects and series. I also get to “write off” art books and travel as an expense. I love that. I am lucky to have a great studio on the Lower east side and I am thankful that every day when I settle in to work that I have this space to be creative, whether it is painting or drawing or reading or trying new mediums. When I finish a painting and it strikes a chord deep within me for whatever reason I feel rewarded and justified. When a stranger buys something I create and it strikes a chord within them it is the highest reward. It goes full circle

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Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative?

I think that most people that are not artists or creative types think that I spend my day pursuing a hobby. That it doesn’t really work, but in reality it takes up most of my head space. Every day I struggle to create something new or make art that means something, either to me or the viewer. Art pervades my every thought. Not everyone understands that. It is of utmost importance to have close friends and confidantes that are artists. We speak the same language.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://voltzclarke.com/artists/holland-cunningham/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hbcunning/