Facial Recognition Nº19
Introducing L.M.Noonan, Australian Collagist
/DRI:M/ARTZ: I just want to start off by saying that I admire your art—both your collages and poetry. NOONAN: Well, thank you. As always, I am surprised and delighted when someone ‘gets’ my work. I’m concerned that a work loses its mystery if explained beyond the basics of how it was made and maybe the mindset or circumstances for the artist at the time of making it. So pardon my anxiety at any imminent autopsy. However, it can only be a good thing if a work provokes questions and/or outrage or indeed any response beyond a yawn.
DA: I have been working in the medium for just about two years and I’m excited to see my artistic practice evolve. This past year I have made an effort to put myself out there and get seen. Posting on a regular basis, applying to open calls, zines, basically doing the work! What advice do you have for someone like myself who is just in the beginning stages of her art career? LMN: I asked a similar question of a friend, a highly successful painter. His sage advice: "be careful what you wish for," elaborating that if I found fame and whatever else I was seeking I could lose my artistic freedom. Clients, curators and fans paradoxically dislike change whilst yearning for something new and exciting! You have been doing all the right things—especially the networking part; my reclusive nature works against me in this instance. Look inside yourself—and be honest because no one will overhear your answers: if you are never again invited to exhibit, if you are always overlooked and at best only give away your art, will you continue to make it and find other ways to put it out there? Consistency is underrated, but it underpins an identifiable mindset to other professionals and your peers. I think of making art as my job, albeit one that I’m paid very little for.
From left to right (click to expand)
Denouement, 2020 | Boro Mondo : Map, 2015 | Boro Mondo: and so it goes, 2020
DA: How has your upbringing influenced your art? Did you have an artistic background growing up? LMN: My mother’s family came to Australia after the Second World War under quite traumatising circumstances. The painful memories and diasporic sense of loss definitely made me feel like an outsider; experiences that continue to shape and inform my art and interests. They were well educated for the time but too busy trying to survive and rebuild their lives to invest in creative pursuits other than literature and music.
DA: How much of it is what you’ve been taught? LMN: I spent many years in formal study. A Fine Arts Degree, a Diploma in Fashion Design, followed by more post-graduate studies.
DA: What have you learned on your own and what tools have guided you? LMN: First of all, it took a long time to unpick the kind of artist I had become. Retrospectively, I spent that time as a kind of art zombie/addict, enslaved to my ego. Art was my religion. I detoxed by removing myself and introspection became my main tool.
DA: Do you work in analogue only? LMN: For now, yes. If paper and books become too scarce/expensive/sacred relics/forbidden objects: maybe I’ll return to at least a hybrid practice. In the past I have scanned and reinterpreted some of my analogue collages to create very different works. However, as a die hard fan of serendipity and happenstance—it’s a bit of a deal breaker.
DA: Since moving to Saudi Arabia I have worked mostly in digital—it’s been a challenge finding paper to cut. I might have to take a venture into the abstract! LMN: The context in which we find ourselves making art is important. You have to adapt if you’re going to survive and of course ‘change is inevitable’. You may find these current constraints have an invaluable outcome regarding your future work. There are some fantastic artists working the abstract scene to use as inspiration.
Historical Interventions, 2014
DA: Do you have favourite source material and where do you find it? LMN: I would love to work with more contemporary imagery. However, I only use material that has been thrown out or given to charity shops, usually old encyclopaedias, newspapers and magazines. I prefer heavier paper stock, matt opposed to gloss, and generally monotone images (I have great respect for those collagists who successfully work with colour).
DA: You are posting collages like crazy and you don’t seem to be slowing down. Is this just how you roll or are you really feeling it right now? LMN: A bit of both really. It’s a really interesting time to be alive, grist for the conceptual mill, if you like. Routine is really, really important. I go into the studio everyday, sometimes I’m anxious to critique with fresh eyes the work I’ve made the day before, sometimes I drag my legs and spend the day shuffling paper and tidying up. After spending many years without a space of my own or the time and energy to make art I feel really privileged to be in this ‘perfect storm’ period of my life.
DA: On Instagram you gave your followers a peek of your space in Australia—it was gorgeous and left me wanting to see more! I liked how you described your bathroom as an extension of your collage practice. Could you elaborate on this? Does your practice cross over into other parts of your life? LMN: My partner and I swapped inner city life for a remote, reclusive, and somewhat self-sufficient one. Combining our eclectic range of skills we built our home and studios ourselves slowly over the years using secondhand and often unorthodox methods and materials. We are passionate recyclers, up-cyclers, menders and makers. Our work environment is both home and studios, so naturally what we collect and use, how we furnish and embellish this environment is an extension of our art practice. A visiting architect once described our house to his students as a perfect example of organic architecture that continues to grow and adapt. We are quite proud of our achievement. As for the bathroom in question, I literally winged it, having no experience, treating the porcelain shards like paper, glueing as I went, learning what I should and shouldn’t do as I did so. Channeling Gaudi and some unnamed Pique Assiette artists. All the broken china I’d saved over the years.