In the exhibition No Man’s Land (through 5/25), artist Sharon Shapiro showcases large-scale paintings and collages. The works feature naturalistic images of girls and women, shot through with vivid neon bands of color, imbuing emotion and meaning and global forces all at once. The paintings chronicle her multi-faceted experiences of growing up in the American South. We corresponded with Shapiro to learn more about the creation of, and experience viewing, the exhibition.
Tell us how your experiences growing up in the American South inspired your exhibition.
I was born and raised in a small town (Bluefield) on the border of West Virginia and Virginia. Then, I went to undergrad at VCU in Richmond, and later, I finished my degree at the Atlanta College of Art. For most of my life, I have lived in places known for being Southern. My work reflects autobiographical and cultural memories of living in a place where charm, politeness, and hospitality are part and parcel of being a “good Southerner.” Yet, most of the women I grew up with were quite feminist in their approach to life. Southern heroines teem with desire and anxiety; they embody a simultaneous fierceness and profound femininity, juxtaposing gentleness with abrasiveness and cleanliness with a willingness to embrace the dirt: Caddy Compson muddies her drawers in a river; Scarlett O'Hara pilfers her home's curtains to craft a ball gown. The central figures of my West Virginia upbringing maintained a delicate balance between pain and beauty, and that infuses my paintings with bittersweetness.
Do you see yourself, family, or friends reflected in your artwork?
I do see aspects of myself and loved ones in my work. All works of art are a version of a self-portrait. The emotions and obsessions that inevitably enter the work are my own. My painting process is layered: I begin with staged photographs of young women, which I alter and recompose through collage. I then create paintings based on these reordered compositions. I make curiously discordant scenes that interfere with the viewer’s assumptions of the women I depict. Superficial beauty serves as an invitation to look more closely, revealing cracks in the artifice, obscured narratives, and hidden meanings.
What do you hope viewers take away after viewing No Man’s Land or are left thinking about in the coming days?
In my work, I dissect notions of intimacy and accessibility. I emphasize the camaraderie, vulnerability, and independence of the women I paint by creating semi-imaginary realms that oscillate between utopia and dystopia. Employing nostalgia as both an inquisitor and a reverent muse, I challenge the observer to untangle the threads of myth from the fabric of history, prompting a critical exploration of how these roles interplay within broader cultural narratives.
Gender equity, racial justice, and the climate crisis are intricately connected. I paint with a palette brimming with vivid hues and neon colors that garnered popularity in the 1980s—a time that holds nostalgic significance for me as my teenage years unfolded—to comment on the boiling political climates we are experiencing today. The fluorescent colors, selected for their striking and unnatural appearance, serve as a visual metaphor for our turbulent environment's disruptive and transformative impacts. I hope that this symbolic connection alludes to the urgency of acting on these interwoven issues and prompts the need for human collaboration to mitigate its far-reaching effects.
Is there anything else you'd like to share/highlight about your work?
The biggest reward for me is in the making. Nothing is better than feeling excited about something I'm working on and leaning into that magical space where things are happening. It feels right—as if something more significant is guiding me. Being enthusiastic is an underrated state of being, and making art involves much of it. I also love knowing so many artists, whether in real life or online. I greatly respect people who center their lives around art in any form. Many non-artists believe it's mostly about talent, and that's a falsehood. It is more about dedication and faith—the faith in something bigger than we are.
Be sure to experience No Man’s Land, on display in the Buchanan Partners Art Gallery on the second floor of the Didlake Grand Foyer through May 25.