A month ago I started to reach out to people in creative fields to ask about their work and the paths that got them there. While I won’t bore you with the usual career conversations, I wanted to share with you some creative people I find particularly insightful, their thoughts, practices and inspirations. The first for my newsletter is Annie Yi. I met Annie back in 2017 through a formally facilitated almost-bookclub-like-group. That group bred many great conversations, but it was ultimately Annie's creative journey that piqued my interest throughout the years.

I was impressed by her work at the National Gallery of Art, but it was more so our conversations on her love for history and her own creative practices that left me reflecting long after the interview. More than anything, it became a discussion on time and space and how to connect the two to capture life’s beautifully fleeting moments.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and your current role at the Gallery?

My name is Annie Yi and I am a digital content writer and producer at the National Gallery of Art, which means I try to uncover the array of stories behind the different works of art in the National Gallery for people who don't necessarily have an art background. Then we figure out a way to share them either through articles on our website or videos on our YouTube channel and socials, newsletters, etc.

You were previously a docent at the Gallery and now you're creating digital content for the museum. Through these roles, what do you hope people get out of your tours and the products you're producing?

When I go into a history [focused] museum like ours and see scenes from 500 years ago, [it initially feels as though it] has nothing to do with my life, like these Dutch or Italian people, or Jesus on the cross. My hope is that by telling the stories of the people within the paintings or the people who made these paintings, you can see a mirror held up to yourself and find your own experiences of longing or desire or failure reflected back at you, and feel that thread stretching across time to help you feel less alone in the world. I really believe that paintings are portals, and that if we give people the key, they can find themselves in a place that is both distant and familiar at the same time.

Do you have a painting that's done that for you?

Oh my god, how to pick. I really love pictures of women lounging, because I deeply identify as a soft girl! A painting called Nonchaloir by John Singer Sargent. It's a painting of his niece, his beloved, most favorite person in the world, just resting on a couch. She has a shawl wrapped up around her, almost like a small Snuggy. The painting is exquisite because of the way he does just a couple of paint strokes to create the effect of the shawl in all its folds.

His technique is unbelievable, but also there's a real tenderness in how he shows his favorite person and I really feel that. Those kinds of relationships that are beyond parent child or partner shows such devotion, which really resonates with me. Sargent was kind of an oblivious person. Watching in very rarefied circles, World War I is going on around him, and he’s kind of gallivanting around, truly oblivious to it all. Then his niece dies in a bombing, and that's when he goes on to paint one of the most iconic paintings from World War I (Gassed, 1919). His love for his niece is what shakes him awake to the reality of the world, and I think, in order to understand how that can happen, you have to look at the painting of his niece to really feel the depth of that affection

You also create your own art. What creative practices bring you joy?

I love painting flowers because they're ephemeral. I took a flower arranging class because I wanted to learn the architecture of a really appealing arrangement, otherwise I was just buying supermarket flowers and they would look really stupid. The beauty of flowers is with us for just a hot second, so we can learn how to grieve when things start to wilt and fall apart. But also, flowers create this really great time pressure, you have to get them onto paper in order to keep them with you. I also love that flowers offer a relationship to looseness. I tell myself I'm not trying to replicate the leaves perfectly: often the most interesting experimental shapes emerge and if I take it really slowly and more delicately, it’s closer to what it's like to actually experience a flower.

Another one of my practices is drawing people on the metro. This came about because as I started to go into the office again, I realized I was spending the commute entirely on my phone. I had been carrying a little square sketchbook with me for weeks and months at this point. I hadn't really popped it out because being on your phone is a very difficult habit to break. At first, I was sheepish about drawing in public. But once I got the hang of it, now it’s the first thing that I do on my commute.

“The curve of someone's chin, the hook of a nose–I couldn't get over how stunning human beings were.”

It's fun because being on the metro keeps things really loose. Yeah, people move. You're being jostled, your lines are going to be really wonky, but I think that relieves some of the pressure of capturing people perfectly. Like with the flowers, when the line goes free is when it gets to be the most expressive and then in some ways faithful to the energy of being there. And within a couple of days, I was astonished by people's beauty, like the dizzying variety of features on a human face. I could not imagine that they could be so different yet so beguiling. The curve of someone's chin, the hook of a nose–I couldn't get over how stunning human beings were.

In addition to learning to appreciate everyone's beauty, have you learned anything else through your observations of people or about yourself?

I think I was shocked by how quickly this habit could form, because it's often difficult to find a creative practice that sticks. And I've been shocked by how durable it is, because in other aspects of my life I'm not good at creating habits.

I've also been pleasantly surprised by the interactions I've had with people who've observed me drawing. I’ve had multiple people say, ‘wow, I really like what you're doing.’ But mostly people are in their own heads, that's the magic of public transportation. People are very much in their own worlds. We can be all together and also in our own self-containment, whether or not it's revery, or just looking out, watching a world pass by, or like 90% of the people in my sketchbook, looking down at their phones. It's a crazy place to be together, but separate.

My final question for you is what inspires you?

Working in a gallery, there's a lot of art that is extremely ambitious. It's like, ‘Oh, how do you become a big artist?’ Obviously through a lot of technical skills but your ideas need to be huge and conceptual and manage to do something revolutionary. When I used to think about art, that seemed really intimidating. So I think seeing something work within the form of, ‘I just want to capture the slice of this moment in time and try to commit that somewhere so that it doesn't decay,’ is very freeing to me.

“I’m inspired by those little small things that are always passing because I see my practice as saving some of those things from oblivion.”

You don't need to be the most creative or the most revolutionary, but working small, working within reason, working with time, the seasons, with flowers, I think those things are really inspiring to me. I’m inspired by those little small things that are always passing because I see my practice as saving some of those things from oblivion. You don't have to change the world, you just have to protect some of these things from leaving us forever.

You can watch one of Annie’s latest projects at the Gallery on YouTube:

The Creative Power of Devotion

If you are or know someone working in a creative field, I’d love to connect to learn more about your work and how you got to where you are.

Send me an email at info@lydiajung-h.com

From the notebook

The frustrations of drawing from real life persist, but what I have been enjoying is exploring different types of drawing tools. I’ve been working with fine tipped liner pens, waterbrush pens filled with India and acrylic inks, and even venturing into watercolor.

While I’m anxious to find my ultimate illustration style, and of course better master faces and figures, I am genuinely enjoying the process of ugly disappointment because each misplaced stroke is only excitement to make the next one better.

Creative engagement—work with me!

Earlier this year I asked weekly prompted questions to friends and family to help me feel more connected during a difficult season. It brought a lot of joy and novel musings about people I thought I knew so well. While that has organically fizzled, I’d like to open this up to you for a few reasons. 1. I’m here on a monthly basis talking only about myself but I want to hear and learn from you as well, and 2. Through your participation, I’ll then use your answers to create illustrations. So please engage with me, I would truly love to hear from you! And as gratitude, if I end up illustrating your answer, I’ll be sure to mail you the original. Let’s start with this:

What small insignificant thing brings you joy? Share with me!

June recap

Scenes from the self-portrait workshop. We worked with colored lights to see shapes and values of color across the face. I loved feeling everyone’s intense focus and witnessing their progress with each lap around the room.

I was really happy with how my last commission turned out, so much that I would have hung onto it for myself! It reminded me of a painting I did in 2018 when I was first getting (back) into art. I like looking back at old work and seeing how my technique has changed and improved throughout the years, but also which once nascent themes now define my aesthetic.

If you missed last month, you can always find archived newsletters here.

Upcoming

My most recent self-portrait will be on display in the group show Essence: The Characteristics That Define Us at the Athenaeum Gallery from July 3 - August 10. Please stop by if you’re in the area!

Reflections on Time and Space