Emily Hoerdemann is a Los Angeles-based artist working primarily in collage, incorporating painting, and photography. Her work melds text, paint, and process in colorful collages with select pop references, slang words and catch phrases, paired with fashion or fine art cut-outs. Her work draws on her obsession with organization and as a result, each work is a delicate placing of aesthetics and color.
Below follows a conversation in conjunction with her exhibition, One Word Poems & Other Interesting Colors
Exhibition Gallery hours are Tuesday, 1 – 5pm, and Wednesday – Saturday, 11am - 5pm. The exhibition runs until July 20. The Gallery is located at 1820 Industrial Street Los Angeles, CA 90021. For more information, call (213) 267-0229 or direct inquiries here.
All photos courtesy of the artist and Garis & Hahn
JS: Where does your delightful fuck you attitude come from? How does it manifest in your work?
EH: Art-making to me is the ultimate “fuck you” mantra – where conception and creation are really yours, and because you find value in what you are producing there is a moment where it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. It manifests quite literally in the titles and text I use, but also in subtle ways. The palette-based collages I make explore what I think are fairly antiquated expectations of womanhood. I am also making compositions using palettes from female artists composed mostly of male artist works. In general, the works feel compositionally attractive, but there’s also a subtle aggression with the puncturing of the page and the slash mark of the thread. I think there is also always a little fuck you sentiment when it comes to appropriation. There’s also homage and admiration, but definitely a sort of exploitation of another’s work always comes with a little satisfaction of the plunder!
JS: When did you decide to become an artist? Who or what inspired you?
EH: Growing up, my Mom had a desk and easel with what seemed like every kind of art supply for me in her studio. I remember painting for hours while she painted. She gave me my first camera – a little Minolta point and shoot. I still have the prints from that first roll of film from when I was 5 years old. My Mom was also a graphic designer for the university in my hometown, and I remember sitting in on the course she taught – graphic design for non-art majors. These acts were the baseline for my understanding for what it means to be a working creative.
JS: Were there any obstacles or doubts? If yes, how did you overcome them? What lessons did you learn?
EH: There are always obstacles and doubts, and there always will be obstacles and doubts. There was a period after grad school where I wasn’t making as much, and I wasn’t outwardly sharing my creativity because I thought I needed to focus on my more collections-based career path. Once I started creating more and sharing what I was producing, I received so much encouragement to continue my creative path. I think the biggest lesson I’ve learned so far, is no one knows what your making unless you fucking share it. Also, be patient.
JS: Which artists most influenced your work and practice? How about non-artists? How and why?
EH: When I was in grade school, a teacher critiqued a painting I did of three pumpkins that had text across the top that said “The Three Musketeers.” She sneered and said “art doesn’t have words in it,” which I believe planted the seed for my love of text and text based artists. I have always been drawn to artists who use text in their work, and in particular those who use it in a bold and exciting way, like Ed Ruscha, Barbara Kruger, Mel Bochner, Lawrence Weiner, Jenny Holzer, and Christopher Wool. Futura is my font of choice because it is used by several of the artists above, but also some of my favorite filmmakers. In particular the films of Wes Anderson, with the incredible use of font, palette, and design aesthetic. I am also interested in the way artists like Mickalene Thomas and John Stezaker reconstruct photography. And weirdly enough, I am inspired a lot by my musician husband, who is a keyboardist and producer who I feel collages with sound.
JS: You have an MA in Contemporary Art from Sotheby’s Institute of Art and BFAs in Painting and Photography from Bradley University. What were the most important lessons you learned from your education? What kind of encouragement did you get?
EH: I look back fondly on my undergraduate experience. I was given a lot of space to explore mediums and overlap my interests of painting and photography by my professors. I am really lucky that I can call several of them friends now. But I think it was actually the time off between undergrad and grad school that taught me the most. My museum internships taught me I had a valuable skill for the art world: organization! And that I was able to be a creative alongside working with great art and artists.
JS: You write that your art investigates what it means to be a 21-century female. Would you please elaborate upon that statement in terms of your materials (text, photography) and techniques (collage and embroidery), and content? I presume that extends to being a 21st century female artist too, right?
EH: In these works, I am using materials typically associated with the homemaker, but in a different way. Puncturing the paper or wood with the needle, the use of thread acting as a slash or an x, untrained embroidery practices in order to struggle through a learning process, repurposing vintage ads or fragments of recipes and pairing them with contemporary art and fashion magazine cutouts, and the incorporation of floral elements tucked inside the font as a distraction or interruption of the message. All the elements are female-focused across generations – from the cookbooks of my Great-Grandmother, to the sewing kit from my Grandmother, from the flowers of my Mother’s gardens, to the fashion magazines I grew up flipping through. A lot of the elements evoke nostalgia, both personal and shared.
JS: Your work incorporates a lot of art history and many issues. Edgy and retro, synthesized and bold, that’s how I would characterize it. How would you describe your latter-day engagement with decidedly masculine Cubist or even Dadaist collage?
EH: When I am creating, I am not looking at the practice as a masculine or feminine act. To me, collage is a way to make sense out of an emotion or a feeling. Collage is a way to break down the elements of something and change them into a completely new idea. Collage can address assumptions in a way that is fresh but recognized. I think my exposure to graphic design at a young age through my Mother has imbedded that innate aesthetic in my practice.
JS: How would you define your use of appropriation?
EH: The use of appropriated materials functions in two ways for me: As simply a pattern or a background for me to build upon, and as a palette for me to emphasize a theme.
JS: In this digital age, you make work in the good old-fashioned medium of analog collage. What does that choice of medium say about our society?
EH: I think there is something incredibly cathartic and energizing to work with something tangible in your hands. I’m not saying that creating something on your computer can’t be fulfilling, but I think creating something tangible in the process is an important factor to me. Although I am taking digital photographs and then printing them, the act of cutting – puncturing the paper – involves me in the surface in a new way. I think there is an appreciation for the ease of our digital world, but that also creates an appreciation for the tangible aspects it produces.
JS: You also manage an art collection and work as an archivist? Does any of this work crossover into your creative process?
EH: Absolutely! I think my obsession with organization manifests itself in all facets of my life. On a practical level there is an understanding of materials, exposure to how other artists are using them, and exposure to how to maintain my own archive of works. Not only are my materials always tidy and organized so I can find them easily, I also find myself attracted to creating rules or steps for how a piece will unfold. Part of the excitement is working through what that process will be and then implementing it.
JS: Your current practice includes two bodies of work, Collages and Texts. What is the specific focus of each?
EH: Simply, the Collages are an exploration of color and the Texts are an exploration of language. The two bodies can be further broken down into two categories within them. In the Collages, the Hues are investigations of a single color and how its descriptor informs how we interpret it. For example, what Lemon Yellow or Goldenrod conjures in our mind is much different than just saying ‘yellow.’ The Palettes are an exploration of a select group of paintings by a single female artist. Each panel breaks apart the palette and is comprised of a new composition using collaged magazine and auction catalog pages that share the same color palette in question. In the Text works, the One Word Poems are comprised of a single word I remember being called in my life, some good and some bad. And the Text Cutouts don phrases and sayings that operate as a surrogate inspirational poster.
JS: Tackling issues of objectification and the feminine, your work has an analytical rigor to it. Is there also humor in it? If yes, what kind?
EH: I think there are moments in the color-based works, where I have collaged elements that seem silly or absurd – like some of the cooking or household tips found in my Great-Grandmother’s cookbooks on how to be a “good housewife.” I think there is absolutely humor in the text-based pieces, specifically the Text Cutouts where bold statements like Unfuckingbelievable and Sponsored Post are meant to have a more convivial reaction to them. And I think humor is the main focus of the Fuck Embroidery, which uses a rainbow of threads in my own handwriting to spell out the curse word with quite an untrained hand.
JS: How do you know if a piece you’ve made is successful? How do you define successful?
EH: To be honest: If I like it. If it excites me. If I cannot wait to show someone what I made. If I want to hang it up and live with it. It’s a bonus if someone else can relate to it. And an extra bonus if they like it and want to live with it, too!
JS: What would you want to be the one viewer takeaway from this exhibition?
EH: Interactions. And not just interactions with femininity, but with everyone. Words we say to each other, words we say to ourselves, and words we use to describe, whether they be descriptions of self or descriptions of colors.
JS: What’s next?
EH: Working through new ideas! Further explorations of color and palettes in tandem with text. I’m looking to dissect some more contemporary ideas of femininity separate from magazine depictions, particularly looking at film and tv.
Viridian, 2019, auction catalog, embroidery thread, magazine, pigment print and vintage advertisement on 140lb cold press watercolor paper in artist frame, 24 x 18 inches
Everyday Is The Weekend (Palm Springs), 2019, archival pigment print, auction catalog, magazine, and printed materials in artist frame, 18 x 24 inches
Lemon Yellow, 2019, auction catalog, ink, magazine and vellum on 140lb cold press watercolor paper in artist frame
24 x 18 inches
Sponsored Post (Los Angeles), 2019, archival pigment print, auction catalog, magazine, and printed materials in artist frame, 18 x 24 inches
Cyan (Thomas), 2019, Acrylic, auction catalog, embroidery thread, pigment print, magazine, sticker and vintage newspaper on wood, 36 x 24 inches
Cyan (Thomas) (detail), 2019, Acrylic, auction catalog, embroidery thread, pigment print, magazine, sticker and vintage newspaper on wood, 36 x 24 inches
Cyan (Thomas) (detail), 2019, Acrylic, auction catalog, embroidery thread, pigment print, magazine, sticker and vintage newspaper on wood, 36 x 24 inches
Cyan (Thomas) (detail), 2019, Acrylic, auction catalog, embroidery thread, pigment print, magazine, sticker and vintage newspaper on wood, 36 x 24 inches
Babe (Lou), 2019, archival pigment print, auction catalog, ink, and vellum in artist frame
9 x 12 inches
Crazy (Ryman), 2019, archival pigment print, auction catalog, ink, and vellum in artist frame, 9 x 12 inches