Phyllis Chumley Martinez Whittier, CA Age 66
What keeps you excited in the studio? Making art is in and of itself exciting. The way images come to me is always surprising and keeps me interested. I’ll have something on my mind: a memory, an issue, a situation, a feeling. And the image comes. Sometimes in the space between waking and sleeping, I’ll see an entire image for a painting. More often, especially for a ceramic piece, I have a feeling about the way it will grow under my hands as I work, the curve of the piece, maybe a hint of something from nature. I start sketching without thinking, chasing that feeling through a series of sketches. Then I start making conscious choices to balance volume or increase movement in a ceramic piece, or work on composition. As I’m actually making the piece, or painting, I’m back to the same sense of chasing my initial feeling. My work is normally detailed and I enjoy the recursive process of layering on colors and mark making.
Looking back at your trajectory as an artist, how would you say your work has developed? I’m the first artist in a family that for generations has struggled just to have enough to eat and a place to live; mine is the first generation to go to college; my immediate family is the first to leave the rural south. As a young person, I desperately wanted to be an artist, but didn’t have a context that allowed me to center my life around art. So my work was not consistent. I did a lot of different things — ceramics, printmaking, drawing — but didn’t focus seriously enough to develop a deep set of skills or practices. I was interested in figure drawing, in color, and in abstract forms drawn from nature, but my work didn’t tell a story. I was passionate about social justice and devoted a lot of time to political activism. I never felt entitled to give my full energy to my artistic practice. Eventually, I honed a crosshatch pen and ink style that allowed me to work as an illustrator.
When my children were born, I abandoned illustration for more predictable work, becoming a teacher. I always did art with students and my own kids and filled sketchbooks with my own drawings to stay sane but didn’t see myself as an artist first and foremost. When I retired, I thought: the only thing I ever wanted to be in life was an artist. What happened to me? I began to take figure drawing and painting classes. I wanted to make things from clay again. Firing in my backyard led to buying a used kiln. Now I do think of myself first as an artist. I have a sense of urgency that I lacked before.
My interest in the human figure, natural shapes and detailed work remains key, but my work now is about telling my story. My life and psyche have been shaped by episodes of abuse and molestation that at my age, I’m finally able to reckon with and address in my art. I have done figurative oil paintings about my family’s history, and have used abstracted natural forms I’ve always loved in both ceramics and colorwork to express the scars of my past. I try to infuse my work with humor.
What role do you think the artist has in today’s society? Artists notice and feel what is going on around them. Our work can help others notice, too. There are many ways to do that, but what’s important is that art keeps interrupting and telling society: Look at it this way for a second. Personal viewpoint, beauty and craft are important anchors when the world moves quickly and anonymously. I used to feel that devoting time to artwork about my own perspective, when so much was wrong in the world, was self-indulgent. But the issues of my life — generational poverty, lack of education, migration, misogyny, child abuse — are societal issues. Every political issue is made up of all of our individual lives woven together and pulled apart. An artist can literally show what things look and feel like so that we can sense and feel one another. In a world of vitriol and anonymous violence, that’s important.
What’s the most important advice you could give to an aspiring artist? Keep making art. Don’t stop. Insist on your right to be an artist. Even if you are paying the rent by doing something else, center your work in your life and give your gift the respect it deserves. The years when I thought everything else was more important than my artwork caused me anguish and confusion, and cost me time and experience, and the company of other artists. So remember your true identity — artist — and make sure you work on art consistently.
Does age matter in art? Why or why not? I think age matters greatly, for better and worse. Your life experience and understanding make you better able to understand the history that shaped the world and yourself, to shrug off ill-fitting perspectives and speak in your own voice. That being said, it’s undeniable that my kids, and other young people, exist in a cultural context that’s sometimes hard for me to intuitively navigate. And that’s okay. My perspective still has value without devaluing theirs, so formed by the internet and virtual experiences. I truly enjoy my friendships with younger artists — as a much older woman, I can be safe and supportive to their work. A downside to my age is that I simply don’t have the energy that I did as a younger person, so I have to concentrate and be focused on what is most important. Last year I had breast cancer, and although I am well, surgery and radiation drove home the lesson that I shouldn’t put projects off for later, I have to get something done every day.
What can we look forward to from you next? When I was actually going through breast cancer treatment last year, I mostly delayed feeling the emotions it inevitably brought up. I’m working on a series of paintings and ceramics about the whole experience of my breast gone rogue. I’m excited to be building the ceramic pieces and revisiting the absurd ideas and thoughts of that time.
Is there anything else you would like to share about being an artist later in life? I feel so lucky that I have been able to come back to doing artwork, that my voice and passion for art are still strong. I’m blessed to have friends my age who are also artists, and I’m enriched by their support and encouragement. Their generosity and insight have been key.
Fyllys.art @fyllys
Nightmares, Earthenware, 18×10, 2023, images by P. Martinez