Welcome to the 285th installment of A View From the Easel, a series in which artists reflect on their workspace. This week, artists immortalize queer and trans sitters in paint and find the magic in broken objects.
Want to take part? Check out our submission guidelines and share a bit about your studio with us through this form! All mediums and workspaces are welcome, including your home studio.
Peter Erik Lopez, Harlem, Manhattan
How long have you been working in this space?
Three years.
Describe an average day in your studio.
My studio is my living space. My living space does not become my studio until the sitter arrives. Then paintings are shifted, furniture is moved, and the immediacy of painting a live portrait takes over the space. I have painted prominent queer figures in this space (Alan Cumming, Pepper Mint, John Cameron Mitchell) as well as local queer entertainers including trans club figures like Gia Love and DJ Armana Khan. So the studio is also a space for hosting these guests. I Uber my guests to my Harlem apartment and ask my sitters for two hours (though many times they stay longer). We sit on the couch and chat a bit over some fruit, wine (if they drink), and cheese. Then we set up. Sometimes I have in mind what I want. Sometimes I dress them; sometimes I paint them however they show up. After our time, I take a photograph and paint the rest from the photo. Now is my time to sit alone, listen to music, and reflect on the encounter and all I have learned from this person.
How does the space affect your work?
I live there. My walls are lined with portraits from one end of the apartment to another. Portraits are hung on the walls and many are pulled off the stretchers, rolled up, and sit behind a large mirror. I live with these people I have painted. They stare at me daily and I am reminded daily of my encounters with them.
How do you interact with the environment outside your studio?
My studio space is right above a storefront church in Harlem, New York City. So if I am painting someone on a Saturday or Sunday, we can hear the whole service and choir and church band right through the floor. I respect the church below me, but also I feel something akin to a lovely clandestine transgression by painting queer folks, drag queens, and trans people right above the church. When I first moved in, they sent me an email complaining about all the “strange visitors” who were pulling up to the front door of the building. But ever since, they have become quietly accepting of me and my special guests.
What do you love about your studio?
I love that I am able to receive guests/sitters in a way that is more comfortable than when I had a proper, separate studio space. My sitters walk in and lovingly marvel at the portraits lined against the wall of those who came before them. I especially love when they recognize a friend — someone they have a connection with that I was not aware of. “Is that Jason?!?” … it’s a wonderfully small world we live in.
What do you wish were different?
I wish I had more space. My portraits are large and take up a lot of space. I do my best to roll portraits up and ensure that my apartment is not packed. I also jettison anything that does not hold value anymore: a certain book I know I’ll never read again; a shirt I haven’t worn for a while. I make as much space as I can so that the apartment can still function as a studio.
What is your favorite local museum?
The Leslie-Lohman Museum. It is the premier museum for queer art. I have been there numerous times and go to most of their events. But I’d be remiss if I did not mention The Bureau of Queer Art: not a local space (they are based in Mexico) but a space that is incredibly supportive to emerging queer artists.
What is your favorite art material to work with?
Oil paint on canvas, but I am starting a series of clay busts attempting to create sculpture-portraits of queer artists who have passed away. My first is Leigh Bowery.
Andrea Lewicki, Duvall, Washington
How long have you been working in this space?
Ten years.
Describe an average day in your studio.
My studio is separate from my office, aka the living room. I’m at my desk in the morning. Studio time happens in the afternoon. Because I always have too many projects at one time, I rarely enter the studio without a mental list of what needs to get done. I don’t have time for rituals or routines to ease into the flow. I put on an audiobook and get to work.
How does the space affect your work?
The scale of my artwork is limited by studio size. I’d love to work larger, but it’s not practical. I think that’s why generous negative space is a characteristic of what I create. I need to say a lot with a little.
How do you interact with the environment outside your studio?
Both of my workspaces have enormous windows overlooking a lake. My brain will be buzzing with activity, but then I look outside and something resets. I’m an hour away from Seattle’s art scene — close enough to visit, far enough that I can’t just happen into it by showing up to everything. I started an international collage collective in 2021, and that keeps me connected to other artists with a wider range of influences.
What do you love about your studio?
I enjoy the privacy of my studio. It’s a rural area too far out to be open to the public. There’s a futon where I can take a nap. There’s a sink and a table with a giant cutting mat. There’s a wall easel my husband built for me. There’s paint splattered on the floor and I don’t have to be careful about the walls. It has heat and A/C now, something I lacked the first couple of years.
What do you wish were different?
Someday, I’ll replace the lighting and set up a fold-down photo area for documenting artwork. I’d like something better for finished artwork than the enormous storage tote I currently rely on. I can’t decide between built-in shelving or a custom worktable with storage underneath, so I’ve had a motley of thrift store finds serving as studio furniture for a long time. It’s not ideal, but it’s flexible.
What is your favorite local museum?
I prefer the experience of artist-organized spaces like Seattle’s Basecamp Studios any day of the week for a hit of contemporary, unconstrained creativity, but I pop into Seattle Art Museum from time to time. There’s a Rauschenberg piece I like to sit with to reconnect with why I make art at all.
What is your favorite art material to work with?
I live for leftovers, for the weird remains of someone’s previous good intentions or fascinations. For years, I tried working with fancy artist materials and they turned me into another insufferable abstract painter. So glad I got out of that life. Give me something broken or that I can make broken so I can put it back together and then break it in a new way. That’s where the magic is.
This series is the best thing ever
Yes, I love this series too. I live on a small island in the West Indies and paint most days.
There are few artists here so talking shop about different studios and paints etc is great.
Thankyou