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

Hi Karen, thanks for joining us today. We’d love to hear about a project that you’ve worked on that’s meant a lot to you.

What’s been the most meaningful project you’ve worked on? Tell us the backstory so we understand circumstances/context and why it’s meaningful to you.

The most meaningful project I have worked on is my most recent one: Women of Babylon. This series of three five-foot tall fabric sculptures is one of two installations I have created for a summer art show in Northern California. As one of two feature artists for the ‘Sanctuary’ exhibit at the Cloverdale Arts Alliance Gallery (May 22-July 12). I have grown as a creative maker alongside my art work.

I am an intuitive artist, which means I have had very little training or education. Instead, I follow the spontaneous streams of what captures my attention and shape them until they become viable physical forms. Whether it is a hand painted walnut shell emptied by squirrels or a tabletop sculpture of old chair coils, I follow the shapes and lines with color to see what happens.

In the past decade, after having raised a daughter and had a modestly successful career as both journalist and public relations specialist, my artistic interests expanded. I went from being a competent writer (fiction/nonfiction/prose/poetry) to include developing skills to help me work with textures and tones that usually resulted in 3D works I then had to figure out how to mount.

Over time, as my experience base grew, so did the art in both size and complexity.

And from there, this is the story I want to tell:

I began to combine the written word (mostly poetry) and visual images into collections commonly referred to as hybrid (blend of genres). I have been well-reward for my efforts with having two chapbooks and five poetic librettos published. Also, to date, more than 90 art images have been published in a range of literary/art journals and seven of those were covers.

I also expanded into the world of poetry videos. Several had been included in poetry film montages.

Then and now, I love every moment of communion with these art forms; weaving them together in some surprising and unexpected ways to both my surprise and delight.

My journey leaped forward after the publication of Moon kissed, Earth wrought, Vision Drunk (Bottlecap Press, 2025). For this hybrid conversation with three women of Babylon, I made two fiber figures (approx. 18 inch tall). It would be a year before that experience catapulted me and the art pieces into large scale works I had no idea I would create.

Today’s ‘Women of Babylon’ will be installed in the ‘Sanctuary’ gallery show (cloverdaleartsalliance.org) and they will be the backdrop of my poetry performance of the chapbook.

To get here, I’ve had to take stock of myself. What were my goals? Why was I, foot by foot, layer by layer, composing these ephemeral women? While I don’t have all of the answers, I can say with ease that as I worked, my vision of what they could be grew. I discovered that I needed to be open to the possibilities of what I could do, of what they could be, if I let them.

That meant I had to push against the boundaries of what I believed I could do. Without formal training, I felt I was in the dark searching for a light. It was tough at times, and I had to take risks that I might fail that vision. I consulted with amazing set designer David Prathro to work out a few technical issues. At each step I mantra’d again and again, that even disappointment in the final results would be okay because I already knew I could take whatever lessons I learned and create something else at a later time.

And the women took shape; they became more beautiful than I thought imaginable. Conversely, I began to realize I could bring my artistic visions to life on scales that I had not thought possible before this.

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

To start at the beginning: I have always been a wordsmith, writing stories, essays, and poems even in childhood and earning two self-designed degrees: creative writing and anthropological linguistics, with a folklore minor.

So my relationship with words in various genres is almost as old as me.

I wrote for magazines and then went on to become a journalist and correspondent for two daily newspapers (Marin Independent Journal, San Francisco Chronicle). It was during those years that I had opportunities to spend time with many, many cultural/ethnic artists and artists.

Some were what is traditionally expected in magazines and newspapers: popular musicians, wood carvers, stained glass workers, etc. However, I sensed that beneath the surface almost everyone shared a common thread I kept pulling on.

The art they created was both personal and communal. The work reflected individual as well as cultural and/or spiritual values. I’m talking about Tibetan sand paintings, Pakistani hand henna, California Indian baskets, Pacific Northwest totem carvings, etc.

In all cases, my task (and my joy) was to understand the significance of the bond between an artist and his or her work (visual or written); how it expressed values within a specific heritage framework. And I translated that understanding into something others could understand and appreciate.

Sometimes a challenge, yes. Because some beliefs do not translate the same in all cultures. A Celtic dragon, for example, is often given attributes very different from those of an Asian dragon. And there are also those interviews that required a great deal of care on my part because the artist, or culture keeper as they are also known as, needed to feel the sincerity of my interest.

Along the way I saw time and time again that these people made no distinctions between themselves, what they created and the source of that inspiration. So many spoke of being ‘blessed’ even when struggling to ‘give voice’ to what they made because it was a service they performed for themselves, their communities, and their spiritual guides.

At the time, not yet a visual artist, I had no idea they were planting seeds in my way of seeing the world that would foster my own evolution as an artist.

I left newspaper work to start my own public relations company because I was being asked quite frequently by cultural arts groups to help them get media attention. And this was appealing to me because I inherently understood what they were doing and why. Plus, I was able to settle into that knowing and not have to also write about cityside or lifestyle issues that did not speak to me.

So I worked with non-profits like the Marin Museum of the America Indian which provided support, activities and events for a full range of Native Americans talents (artists, actors, singers, storytellers, dancers). As a boutique publicist, I also handled several Roma (gypsy) events, Tibetan Conservancy of Art and Culture films and activities, and more. Through all of this I became quite comfortable with varying world views of life, all so different but equally valid.

Speaking of life, ironically, one of my unusual clients was the area’s oldest and largest cemetery. My task was to bring greater awareness to the community-at-large about the role of such places in our society. Why they came to be and how they ‘hold’ the dead and the grieving.

Note: many segments of the cemetery were designated for specific ethnic groups who required particular burial rites and placement. So again, I was immersed in the cultural richness of the world we live in.

By the way, for levity, I would host annual “Mystery Writers in the Mausoleum” evening readings that were surprisingly very-well attended.

Along the way I was still writing and getting published in various journals. But it would not be until I retired from the publicity that I would turn my attention to making visual art, too. And I learned the hard way: trial and error. To be on the safe side, I worked on small scale pieces and did not put much effort into accruing materials other than elements I came upon in the ecosystem within which I live. These included tree bark, crushed pine cones, and even yarn remnants in local thrift shops.

But the passion and the visions kept growing and, little by little, my resistance to the commitment of time, treasure, and talent waned. And, pretty soon, like the artists I had interviewed and befriended earlier, I gave myself, step to step, the processes before me.

And I have never looked back.

What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?

Oh there are so many gifts, some immediate, some long term. All of them can be encapsulated in this one sentence: This is what happens when I get to be myself.

Here is where my abilities and visions are not constricted to what others may decide are appropriate or worthy. Metaphorically, I am able to spread my wings and soar, swoop, or glide as required by the creation at hand.

There is definitely a direct line of connection for me between having the freedom to create visual or written art and the joy that both fuels and exudes from their merger. It is tantamount to being in sync, mind, heart, soul with myself and the materials I am working with.

Having said that, what’s most extraordinary about being an intuitive artist in particular is that while the journey of making begins uncharted, it always results in new, unexpected forms of beauty. Elements weave together, inch by inch or line by line, to produce results that are surprising because their collaboration with me generates something that always exceeds what I might have considered had I followed a pre-determined flight path.

To be in the mix of all that is truly a wonder that fills with me awe.

I remember once when, as a child with coloring book in hand, I was told that I would fail at art because I did not draw within the lines. That person did not understand, anymore than I did at the time, that the purpose of what I was doing was to simply ‘flow’ with the colors moving across the pages, often spilling out of the shapes provided.

Honestly, like most of us, this was a lesson I learned in school and at home. And, I can assure you, I am not alone. Individual creativity is generally not prized and the process (often unseen) is rarely appreciated unless the results meet common, expected standards.

As a creative writing workshop facilitator I tell students that writing from the creative wellspring within requires practice and willingness to trust the timing. Just as developing any other muscles might. So stretch what can be stretched, rotate joints to swing and deconstruct patterns, etc. until you find rhythm. Then you can refine with edits and adjustments.

The same holds true for visual art. It’s a worthy challenge to open ourselves up to the richness of colors, shapes, and textures that resonate within and without. This is how we express our own gifts to the world.

And, again, returning to the image of muscle building, it is essential to realize, or at least accept, that not all bodies are the same. Height and girth is personal. Some hamstrings are taut, others are loose, and so on.

Pushing against the tide of who we are can leave us misshapen, even unable to do what it is we want most to do.

This is what I have learned for myself: what was natural for me to do, what was not true for me?

I believe that experimenting and exploring are essential to find out who we are, what we can do and how we will do it.

Such personal (inner) wisdom is priceless.

Contact Info:

• Website: http://Linktr.ee/KPGFolkHeart
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/karenpiercegonzalez/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/karen.p.gonzalez.14/
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@folkheartpress
• Other: for all: linktr.ee/KPGFolkHeart

Image Credits

All my photos