We recently connected with Susan Irish and have shared our conversation below.

Hi Susan, thanks for joining us today. Can you talk to us about a project that’s meant a lot to you?

In 2017, I curated a show called We the People, How Artists Respond to Racism. For me and many of my artist colleagues, the 2016 election was a cataclysmic call to action. We use our mediums for expression and this was a time of raw emotion looking for constructive outlets. Artists came from across the country representing diversity in race, gender, socioeconomics, age, and artistic experience. The oldest artist was once a Freedom Rider and was perplexed that she still needed to “protest this stuff”. There was a tiny little graphic depicting Muhiyidin d’Baha leaping across a police barricade to snatch down the confederate flag which happened days before the show. Moya was at the reception with his traveling drums and formed a drum circle. It became the heartbeat of the event. People talked in the cadence of the beat. They talked of consolation, community, and courage. The Mayor was there. In the weeks that followed the opening, bus loads of school kids came to learn. People who never visited a gallery came in to see visual representations of how they had been feeling. It was powerful and impactful. In the 5 years since, my personal work got stronger in message. As an art teacher, I saw daily proof of the power art wields. But it was the experience of this show that demonstrated people listening and intentionally seeking out art with a message. The day after the reception I was so tired from all the preparations up to and the intensity of the evening, I didn’t expect to paint. But my tools beckoned and I started to create as a way to keep the momentum and fervor of the evening alive. I wanted all the people who visited to go out into the world and be changed by what they saw and felt and to affect other people with the same energy. The painting was titled Exponential and it became a mantra for me as I worked. Say something in my art that reaches out to the senses and sparks curiosity.

Susan, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

A student was lamenting to me about how hard it was to be in middle school. I concurred and said “I wouldn’t go back to middle school for all the money in the world” His cheeky response was “And yet, you did, and for a lot less money” It was a risky career move to leave a lucrative semi-glamorous interior design business to be public middle school art teacher. But I knew I needed to be there. As a child, I struggled to read. I didn’t get math. I couldn’t express with my voice what was in my head. But the art room! Here everything made sense. I could read meaning in pictures. I could understand percentages and ratios of red to white to make an array of lovely pinks. I could communicate using my hands. And the teacher offered genuine validation and encouragement. My subject matter often depicted idyllic families and beautiful houses. I drew floorplans at a very early age. So I became an interior designer and worked with the buyers of custom homes. My success came not from my cutting edge design but my ability to listen to people. All the abstract ideas and decision making was stressful. My approach was to break it down into manageable parts and convey the ideas so they could see the vision and the benefits of their choices. But a voice inside said this isn’t where I am supposed to be. And I need a job that allowed me more time with my children. So I went back to college for a double major in art and education. My first day of student teaching I heard two voices. One came from the professor who stated, “I think this is the place for you!” And the other was that inside voice that said ‘Oh, yes!” It was a lot of work and I was immersed in academia. Crossing the threshold of the painting studio, something changed. Time stood still. I left my head. Hearing was gone and the vision, imagination, and kinesthetic senses were heightened. I packed this sensation away as bonus time. I was on a different career path after all. I was to be an art teacher. For many years I taught in MA and ME. The education was liberal and the arts were celebrated, valued, supported. It was dreamy. I knew I was making a difference. Students from that time write to me still. Then I moved to SC. The educational system where I taught was that school to prison pipeline we read about. There was no time for discovery, experimentation, connection. My job was reduced to regimentation and behavior management in ways that are incongruent to art or my nature. Idealism and making a difference was thwarted here. So I started my own art school. It had a gallery. We educated people about the power of art and community. We had impactful shows. In the beginning, I was told that a gallery in a school or a school in a gallery was just not done. You can’t make money that way. But I was leading with my teacher heart, It was done and since copied by those who had said no. It wasn’t lucrative but that wasn’t my mission. Then the building fell prey to gentrification. For a few years I taught from my home studio where I painted in my spare time. I was showing and called myself an artist but the teaching part always came first. It was a big part of my identity and brand.

When the pandemic hit, I once again had a seismic shift when students stopped taking classes. Who was I if not a teacher. Saying art teacher and painter was understood. But referring myself only as an artist or a painter it harder for some to fully understand. But the thought of endless time in my studio by myself was so alluring. For once I could do what I wanted to do without explaining, marketing, or leaving the house. I wanted to paint all day every day. I wanted to express myself in my work and I wanted it to mean something and matter to other people. I wanted to teach through my art. One week I collected all the trash that I generated. One wood panel was allotted for each day. The refuse had to be worked into the surface. The intention was not to look like a found object collage but to make trash beautiful, to elevate it to art status and to hide it in the painting so it wouldn’t end up in the landfill. Despite being aware and a minimalist consumer, I still had a lot of materials to work with from only one week. Now I have a series of paintings called Global Warning. My mission is to display a pretty picture that at second glance causes the viewer to question and to rethink. We can have a dialogue about how small steps can add up to big action. Maybe my art will foster better stewardship for the Mother Nature. If my paintings inspire one person to refuse a plastic straw or carry a canvas bag then I will be satisfied. My art making is intense because of my experiences, because I know that it can be decorative and informative, educational and pretty.
When I tell my story, people often comment about my varied career span. To me, it is not linear but a labyrinth. Sometimes on the journey we revisit where we have been to make where we are going more meaningful. Teaching was a huge strength for me and a time of which I was quite proud. My methods of listening and breaking down so they got it mattered to my students. They told me so. It is no mystery that I was so good at it because of my art teachers. My gratitude is overflowing. Now when I paint, I hear my teachers’ voices and my own voice as if I was guiding a student. There is an internal and external conversation in every painting. Abstract expressionism is often misunderstood to be just shapes and colors to represent a basic emotion. Concrete thoughts of angst and fury, hope and protection that I feel for nature can also be conveyed. The work on my easel now depicts the atomic bomb of plastic that threatens to detonate in our environment. Flora and fauna are gallantly fighting back. Who will win?

Are there any resources you wish you knew about earlier in your creative journey?

Perhaps I just wasn’t ready earlier on in the journey to embrace the kind of artists’ retreat that promises connection and networking with other artists. The creative life is a great life but is also very isolating. I like isolation. Artists by our very nature tend to be outwardly extroverted but inwardly very introverted. I can stand up in front of a class full of middle school kids, give a speech, talk about my art, or write about my feelings but working a cocktail party is like kryptonite to my soul. It felt safer to be in my studio, alone. Even as a child I was self employed and worked alone on projects. As an adult I took classes for my own benefit but didn’t feel need to go to a class to connect with other artists. My goal was self discovery. Or I was heavily in the role to minister to other artists as the gallerist, curator, or teacher. People came to me for something. Reciprocity seemed doubtful. The need for camaraderie was not in my heart. Magic was not a word in my vocabulary. Then I had a chance to spend a week at the beach with other artists, no teaching component, no shared studio, just communal dinner and conversation. There was a generosity here that I had never experienced. We didn’t talk art or critique each other’s work but there was a safe feeling that we were all processing and striving toward similar deeply personal goals. We had lovely dinners and engaging conversations like a close family without the drama or competitive edge. I wasn’t able to attend the next time they met but was asked to pop in for a visit. As I pulled into the driveway of the beach house, I cried giant tears and heavy sobs that betrayed my New English affect. Waiting for me were people who knew me, who got me. It must be a unique combination of this special group.

A year later I was invited to join a different group of artists for a retreat with a mission and intensity and group critiques. The director sensed some hesitation in my response. She offered ‘sisterhood” as a final selling point. That wasn’t what I was looking for nor did I even believe it could be genuine. But I accepted the invitation. It was all she said and more. To my amazement I found a treasure that I didn’t even know I was seeking. There was in fact a sisterhood. I was not the only woman artist who was only intrinsically competitive but had no outward competitive manner. There was a bond for the good of the art. We were striving for the clarity of our missions. There was no condiscention or exclusivity that does exist in some creative circles as much as we want to imagine that there isn’t. Find a support network that suits is advice I would tell my younger self. Keeping trying them on until one fits. Search until found. Expect to receive as well as give. Sisterhood is good. And magic can occur.

Now that I know better and feel brave, I am embracing the artist retreat as a valuable part of my artistic development and professionalism. March 2023, I will spend the month living and working in Ireland. The focus will be to study the Irish innovations in sustainable practices and follow the path of Ireland’s first female botanist.

What can society do to ensure an environment that’s helpful to artists and creatives?

Artists are creative problem solvers. Invite us to the table of big discussions. Hear what we have to say about issues. We may have viable solutions that the engineers or policy makers haven’t even considered.

We are vital to communities. Make us an integral way of life not a seasonal display. Don’t price us out of the real estate market so we can live and work in our community.

Buy our wares, talents, and services. Pay us a living wage. We can’t pay bills with exposure.

Our work resembles play but it is still work. It is a model that is proven in education and research. We experiment and ask “why” and “what if”. We are critical thinkers. We communicate in ways that transcend barriers of language.

Arts education (visual art, music, theater, fashion, dance, storytelling) should be funded and vibrant in all schools. Kids who take art class tend to score higher on standardized tests than those who had no art opportunity.

Understand that artists are highly educated (with and without degrees), posses very diverse specialized knowledge and mad technical skills. We are deep thinkers that do lots of research. For many, this is a career path chosen after working in a very different field. Imagine all the divergent perspectives that are fostered from backgrounds in math and nursing, law and manufacturing.

We defy the stereotypes.

Arts should be encouraged for for all and for its own sake of being important to the creation of a fully formed human. It is a viable career path but like sport and entertainment, not everyone will be famous. A body must move without aspirations of being an athlete and kids should be encouraged to run and even play organized sports without it being a vocation or an expectation that the only reason to do so is to make an Olympic team. All too often I heard parents discounting the importance of art lessons because the parents saw no future job in the skill sets we were developing.

Most importantly, talk to the artist. We are eager to share but may be more afraid of you than you are of us.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.susanirishartist.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/artbysusanirish/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/susanirishartist
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JuqAw1MkIw