CELINA CURRY

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APRIL 2 - 30, 2021

ARTIST BIOGRAPHY

Celina Curry is a painter, illustrator, and educator residing in Kansas City, Missouri and originally from Allentown, Pennsylvania. A self-appointed self-archivist, her paintings most often call upon re-imagined imagery from own own past. The process of painting allows her to reflect on Big and Scary emotions, transforming them into a tangible souvenir of having worked through them. Recurrent themes of family ties, mental disorder, and the pains of growing up are woven together with exaggeration of varying intensity that correlates into emotional experience of confronting the subject at hand. Additionally, an ongoing series of accompanying short films complements and complicates the narrative. More recently, Celina has expanded her paintings to include the walls of physical spaces and is interested in further blurring the line between her two- and three-dimensional realities.

Celina lives with husband and fellow artist Andy Ozier and their two cats. Recently, she has been teaching art at the college level and finds it to be a valuable supplement to her own practice. She enjoys taking portrait commissions (both people and pets) and crafting unique pieces that capture the spirit of the subject.

ARTIST STATEMENT

I was at recess in second grade the first time I tried to casually commiserate with a friend over the annoying way thoughts seemed to rapidly branch out and multiply faster than I could catch them. She stared blankly and blinked.

This was my first clue that something different might be going on between my ears.

More evidence came another day on the playground when I was accosted mid-game by a group of peers who informed me that I was Weird. This was surprising to me because I’d seen the kinds of games they played and found them perplexing at best, and boring at worst. Logically, I concluded that they must be paying me a compliment.

The simplest way to describe my inner landscape is ‘non-linear but highly associative.’ Happily, the value prized over all others in my family was curiosity, and I became fascinated by how big-picture truths reveal themselves when you pay attention to enough of the tiny details. Ping-ponging between the macro and micro comes naturally, but it requires extreme effort for me to focus on anything in-between. The popular framework of short-term vs. long-term memory feels foreign to me in the same way my peers’ games did. I naturally gravitated toward the Arts as one of the few areas of society that celebrates, and even requires, non-linearity.

Was it delusional to interpret my peers’ insult as a compliment of my creativity? With the hindsight of a couple decades, I can see the argument clearly from both sides. When confronted with an accusation that challenged my self-concept, I simply altered my perception to create a new reality. Traditionally, this has been assumed to be a defense mechanism solely attributed to those of us considered to be neurodivergent in one way or another. A mind which processes inputs differently than those who dictate what is Acceptable will indeed find it necessary to develop a toolbox of coping mechanisms as it is confronted with information that challenges its very worthiness.

For this reason I am very mindful of the language I use when thinking or talking about myself. With change as the only constant in our lives, I consider growth to be one of my greatest values, and therefore tend to refrain from categorizations or definitions. However, I also believe that strength is borne from sharing, rather than hiding vulnerability. I know firsthand the incredible relief of feeling “seen” when hearing others describing experiences identical to my own – struggles so mundane or private I had never bothered to question whether they were anything but personal failings. A lifelong fascination with psychology emerged as natural foil to my numerous but mostly tolerable ‘quirks.’ More recently, research at the intersection of schizoaffective disorders, autism spectrum disorder, and attention disorders has both provided answers and revealed even more questions.

I’d like to suggest that the sheer volume of ever evolving information, opposing opinions, and pure junk with which the average 21st century mind must contend on an hourly basis necessitates some baseline level of the same benign self-delusion if it is to maintain any sense of Identity. In its most sinister form, these unchecked alternate realities have led to the rise of “fake news” and vague mega-conspiracies like QAnon. Practiced deliberately and with a generous dose of self-awareness and compassion for others, the intentional drawing of boundaries around one’s self-beliefs prevents the casual erosion of identity and acts as a salve for anxious comparison and FOMO.

Practicing such deliberate shifts in perspective has led me to adopt a pair of seemingly opposing beliefs:

Everything means Something

but also

Nothing means Anything.

I find that most issues I encounter stem from an imbalance of these precepts. When faced with an obstacle, taking a moment to identify which belief has become overly dominant is key. Challenging myself to view the situation from the opposite perspective is usually enough to course-correct. Perfectionism and decision paralysis respond to this technique like the Wicked Witch of the West responds to a cold shower. The overwhelm of Everything might cause inertia, but that can be instantly dissolved by pursuing Anything at all for a short time. This is the best argument I know for prioritizing process over results.

I like that Painting (verb) is an infinite goal – there is always room for innovation and improvement – but Paintings (noun) are finite records of the process itself, as well as its ultimate culmination.

I choose my subject matter because I want to spend more time with it, and with the right level of commitment, the result is a souvenir I can revisit whenever I like. Naturally, this means much of my work dwells on cheerful imagery or sentimental moments; such subjects are also prime material for studies that allow me to experiment with new techniques. As I’ve settled into a regular studio practice, I’ve discovered that Painting isn’t the only word with a dual meaning at play. The time-bound Process (noun) of painting turns out to be a convenient way to Process (verb) difficult or confusing emotions that are otherwise tricky to pin down. As a result, some pieces have begun to acquire a more ambivalent emotional quality, primarily those featuring members of my family, and younger self. While my characteristic distortions and bright colors feel quite natural in the more exuberant and playful pieces, I’ve been pleased to discover the lurid and uncanny qualities they lend to these more emotionally meditative works.

These paintings are the product of my own revisions to reality. My hope is that they inspire others to practice curiosity toward the small details that could shift their big picture for the better. The process is the point, and the proof is in the pudding.