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

Julie, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. Did you always know you wanted to pursue a creative or artistic career? When did you first know?

When my mother introduced me to the hot glue gun at our kitchen table when I was elementary school age. The moment my coloring pages expanded to include beads, string, and confetti, I was hooked. I would spend what seemed like hours assembling beautiful items together to create my personal masterpieces that became everyone’s Christmas and birthday gifts for years to come. My medium has changed throughout the years, but my desire to make something hasn’t ever left me. Every semester during college when I would choose classes for my upcoming semester, I would entertain the idea what would happen if I changed my major from art. The thought was always fleeting because I could not fathom something I could love more than creating.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

I started life in a large family from south Georgia with hot flower filled summers and a supportive mother that saved greeting cards and sewing scraps and permission to occupy the kitchen table to mastermind my creations. Before my obsession with puff paint and pencil drawings, the desire to create started earlier than I remember. By the end of high school I had taken all available art electives and prided myself with being in the first class to start the art honor society’s school chapter. Being handed college pamphlets by encouraging teachers and submitting for a small art scholarship, I cautiously wanted an art career for myself. The stipulation for receiving said scholarship to my local university required me to declare my major as fine art as a freshman, and so my fate was sealed. I didn’t know what that exact art filled career would look like, but I was convinced I was on the right road. Though the scholarship and grant money didn’t save me from student debt, I couldn’t convince myself that any other path was worth the two jobs and full time enrollment that consumed my next years.

I graduated from Valdosta State University in the winter of 2009 and all the promise of the future fell on me like a piano over the head. Scavenging every art related job in my small town landed me not much more than a couple of sad interviews and me defeatedly walking into stores begging for an opportunity. I started nannying, volunteering, making beaded jewelry and saving pennies. After the better part of a year, my volunteering had landed me a part-time job and I taught summer art classes for kids out of my home and my jewelry sales allowed me to squirrel away savings for the first time in my adult life.

The years that followed included several moves around the state while supporting my husband through grad school, the birth of my daughter, and the highest highs and the lowest lows of my life thus far. Working in elementary education during that time as a paraprofessional, pre-k teacher, and eventually program director for an art, music, and dance studio, gave me an unforgettable experience in keeping childlike wonder alive. With the kindness of friends and the use of their detached garage, I propped my baby up in a pack n play while I slung paint on canvases for commissions and the hope of building a body of work. As graduation and the possibility of financial security dangled in front of my family, I snatched the opportunity to make artmaking my part-time passion with full-time love.

By 2019 my no longer chubby baby having turned into a school aged girl handed me significantly longer hands-free moments that felt loud. The need to identify myself and conduct myself like a serious artist felt like a combination of floating and drowning. Making artwork felt as important as the need to know how to swim in the center of a lake, but just as scary as being so far from earthy ground. I started putting in the work, and by the end 2020, I had a website, a body of painted acrylic works, and an email outbox full of gallery submissions. And I waited. And nothing happened. I realized I had only checked the boxes off my things-to-do list. My recent paintings were getting me back into the practice of daily art-making, but the artwork itself wasn’t saying anything to me.

I felt defeated. While the world was in mayhem, I too was busy panicking and deconstructing my beliefs and reestablishing my identity. Continuously running through the cycle of ambition and rejection and reevaluating my own self worth. I ran through an inner monologue most days to determine if I even liked making art anymore and did it even matter? Finally with the help of a loving sister-in-law who handed me a box of national geographics, I decided to revisit that innocent love of cutting and gluing paper together. I came alive, and I now I can’t stop.

I create paper analog collages out of discarded images from books and magazines. I am giving images a second life while telling a story. So often while I am meticulously cutting away, I hear a narrative forming. My collages are almost exclusively centered around women. They are informing me and the viewer what they are capable of and deciding how they want to be seen. While most of my female muses are sourced from the eras where their beauty is their greatest contribution, I aim to rebuttal the argument with the power they are wielding.

In the less than two years of having given myself the title of collage artist, I have made hundreds of collages, signed with a local gallery, presented a solo exhibit, and sold many original works. Creating new artworks is part of my daily routine and I constantly pepper those nearest and dearest to me with my ideas for future creations.

The part of my artist statement that has remained unchanged since I first fleshed one out in my early collage classes, is that I hope that when my artwork is viewed, it is done so with two possible outcomes. One, that the viewer is intrigued, and possibly discovers its impact. Or the second, that they dismiss it with the statement, “I could do that” and that they actually do make something and learn the love of creating. Simply, I love problem solving with paper, taking what is no longer wanted and giving it significance.

Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

That there is not a definite order of events that need to take place to become an artist. I mistakenly was convinced (by no one other than myself) that I needed to have a college degree, a website, a gallery backing, regular exhibits, and sales to be able to call myself an artist. There isn’t a particular one thing you need to give yourself that label, you only have to be making art. I’m still on my journey of unlearning that, and I regularly remind myself.

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

I think it’s natural to want to make sense of the things around us. We want a reason why someone is creating their artwork and for what purpose. The reasons can be as complicated as processing grief, being an activist, providing a living or as simple as because they just want something nice to look at. My collages can be as simple as three different images assembled together in under 1o minutes, or hours worth of tiny cuts and weeks to reach it’s final form. Some of my viewers want to dissect which parts were assembled and evaluate how complicated the process was to asses its worth. I often question my own artwork and ask can it be good if it was seemingly too easy. The truth is that art will always be left to the viewer’s opinion. It leads to the the forever debated question of who decides if the art is good or of worth. As a creative, I accept that I will be morphing throughout my lifetime and that the artwork I make will be influenced and reflected by my personal journey that will be similar to other’s journeys, but not exactly the same. My artwork will mean nothing to many people, but to a select few, it has the potential to evoke emotion and encourage contemplation.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.julieumbergerart.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/julieumbergerart/

Image Credits
Portrait Photos Jess Jones Boudoir