I’m a heavy lucid dreamer, so when my subconscious begins to lose control of the situation, shit gets real. Living skeletons, flesh melting off bones, and horrific medical anomalies are regular tenants in my head. It’s no wonder that that artwork of local artist Adrian Cherry resonates so deeply with my conscious and subconscious alike. In an attempt to reconcile the conflict between internal and external identities, Adrian’s visceral artwork employs subtle (and not so subtle) distortions to the human form. As a self-taught artist with a deep interest in human anatomy, the macabre and surreal, she loves the psychology behind surrealism.
“Not being bound by the laws of reality, there’s a lot of freedom in how a piece can be structured and the symbolism that can be incorporated into it. There’s also a vulnerability and security with communicating in that style. To me, it becomes a vehicle for you to candidly converse with your subconscious, safely…in code.”–Adrian Cherry
Dirge: Your art has a level of realism and detail that is exquisite. Can you tell us more about your background and what made you become an artist?
Adrian Cherry: I guess I kind of fell into it. When I was a child, I became preoccupied with copying my older sister who was always drawing or painting. So it wound up being something I grew into. As my sister advanced into new territories (i.e., new mediums, new concepts, new artists), I naturally followed. And, that kind of laid the foundation for me.
Your influences range from the macabre and anatomical oddities. What (or who) else would you consider your biggest influences? Where are you finding ideas for your work?
Stephen Gammell and his graphite drawings in the Scary Stories trilogy by Alvin Schwartz. Stephen’s work was probably my first introduction to dark surrealism. His drawings were always eerie, with a rich atmosphere that defied logic and reason, and devoured human forms. I could never put into words why his work always attracted me. But, from the moment I laid eyes on it, I was hooked. He’s definitely one of my earliest influences, and a big a one at that.
As of late, I’ve become interested in wet plate photography, probably for the same reasons as Gammell’s work. There’s a strange sense of atmosphere that’s dreamlike and almost seems to engulf the subject of every picture. And, it’s an atmosphere that has its own character, one that allows light to leak in and obscure the subject, or frame it in a halo, and distorts the texture and sense of space within a photograph.
What was the most powerful work of art you recall viewing? Where was it? How did it impact you and what you create?
I don’t know how powerful they were, but they definitely left a resonating impact and influenced a route that I eventually want to pursue: the short film “Rubber Johnny” and the music video for “Sheena is a Parasite” by Chris Cunningham. I think it was late 2007/early 2008 when I first saw those. I was at home, browsing YouTube, and for some reason felt compelled to re-engage myself with Chris’s work, which I hadn’t seen since my late teens. Those two works had come out a few years after I lost touch, so they were the first ones I watched, and I was pretty floored. They’re weird, surreal little films that involve distorting or morphing the human body somewhat violently. But the editing and special effects are so well done that it looks plausible and real. Eerily real.
In trying to decipher how he pulled this off, I encountered a bit of an a ha moment concerning seemingly random visual obstructions, like light leaks, and how they can be utilized to engage interaction between a viewer and a piece of work. In addition to building atmosphere and mood, the use of visual distortions could be employed to obscure the right elements of a composition allowing the viewer to “fill in the blanks” to make sense of the story that’s trying to be told. By pulling from their personal bank of experiences and memories, they’re subconsciously planting aspects of themselves into the story. Depending on the road the story takes, a bond might be formed for the viewer.
I guess a better analogy would be a horror movie that never really shows you the monster. You’re given just enough to influence the foundation of what the monster is supposed to be. The rest is left blank for you to fill in because who knows what scares you better than you?
The fetal skull is a common theme in your work. What significance does it hold for you?
I never thought about that before. I know in past, more private work, there’s been reoccurring themes concerning wasted potential, or having over-sheltered oneself to the point where any kind of personal growth has stagnated or atrophied. I tend to shy away from crawling out of my comfort zones or confronting my self-doubts, which leaves me feeling like a broken record at times. I’m wondering now if the reoccurring use of fetal/children skulls is just another incarnation of that theme?
What’s the most indispensable item in your studio?
White lights, and music. White lights I need for their color balance (for when I do occasionally work in color), or clarity for working on the details. Music works to either calm me down or invigorate me, depending on what phase I’m at in a piece. Current playlists include Massive Attack, Portishead, Mazzy Star, The Pixies, Bowie, and Nirvana. I also recently got into Alt J and back into Autolux.
You work in a variety of media, from graphite and ink to oils and even clay. Do you have a favorite? What challenges do you face with your preferred medium(s)?
I’m not sure I have favorites. I usually binge on a particular medium until I burn out and then move to another. Eventually, I’ll go through all the mediums I know and then cycle back to the beginning again. But I do have “security blanket” mediums that I tend to revert to when I’m feeling uncertain: graphite, charcoal, and pastels. Unfortunately, they can be a bit time consuming and pieces are usually slow to take off as a result. That, and the dust created from using charcoal and pastels seems to coat everything within a 10 ft radius of my work space (lungs included).
Have any art-world pet peeves?
I guess the stereotypical ego running rampant in various parts of the art world, be it from other artists, dealers/gallerists, collectors, etc. It’s an alienating turnoff for me. And personally, it seems counter-intuitive and counterproductive to treat anything in the arts like it’s part of an elite clique.
What do you hope your art will accomplish?
I’d like to one day make something that resonates with someone on a personal level. Especially for anyone who’s going through a rough period and needs that reminder that they’re not alone. Just some kind of reminder to help them breathe a little easier.
Mission accomplished, Ms. Cherry.
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