BY SHALEEN DESTEFANO

I have been following the work of artist Anne Siems since 2020. There was something about her paintings that stopped me in my tracks from the very first time I saw them. They are strange and tender and a little haunting. There’s a quietness to them, but they are anything but quiet. I find myself lingering over the tiny details. So when I saw that Anne Siems was going to be exhibiting her work right here in Denver at Visions West Contemporary, I decided to break our decade-long rule of only featuring local artists.

After following her work from afar for years, the idea that we might get to see it in person, here in our own city, felt like one of those weird little moments of alignment that you don’t ignore. And so, for this issue, I’m making an exception. Because sometimes an artist comes along whose work makes you stop scrolling, stop thinking about the next thing, and just…look. Anne is one of those artists for me. I’m so happy to introduce her to you.

You’ve written about wanting your work to create that feeling of “falling in love,” a visceral experience that exists before words. What do you think we’re actually longing for in those moments when a painting stops us in our tracks?

I believe that the magic that can happen by experiencing Art in real life, is one in which we experience both moments of awe, as well as a sense of being truly seen. We suddenly recognize that we carry within us a shared unconsciousness that connects us at a deep level. Our society doesn’t want us to remember this connection. It wants us to feel we are individual beings and have no common belonging. Art has the ability to remind us.

Your work has always seemed deeply connected to the natural world, but your newest paintings bring in surveillance, secrecy and the feeling of being watched. What has changed in the way you see the world, and what are you feeling that you can’t quite say directly?

The natural world will always be a place in which we can tap into our deepest sense of connection to all beings, all things. A place of remembrance and restoration. We can connect with our ancestor’s wisdom. The horrifying machinations of tech oligarchs are wanting us to be separated from that knowledge. They want ultimate power over our minds as well as over daily activities through all means possible. We’re moving toward a horrific scenario in which we lose all liberty. I don’t feel that Art needs to say things directly. I leave that to journalists, writers, podcast, etc. The power of art is to tell stories, and relate truth in an indirect manner.

Hansel and Gretel is a story so many of us carry from childhood, but your version turns them into watchful, almost covert figures navigating a world of surveillance. Why did this particular fairy tale feel like the right place to explore what it means to be watched, and to watch back?

The interesting part of this fairytale, is that Hansel and Gretel get pushed out by their starving parents to get lost in the woods to presumably die. A most horrible scenario. Clearly a nightmare for any child. However, Hansel and Gretel are ingenious and do not succumb to starving. They find a way out. I believe that we too, when using the power of community, of relating to one another, we will overcome the dark times. They show us that with simple cunning smarts (using a stick instead of a finger) they trick evil (retold in this patriarchal tale it’s of course a powerful wise woman) and survive.

There’s something both vulnerable and defiant about the young people in your paintings. Do you see them as versions of yourself, protectors, witnesses, or something else entirely?

I see them as all of the above. They are never direct representations of either me or anyone else. They are the mythical carriers of the message, of the story. They are the knowledge we all possess if we choose to tap into it.

You’ve spoken openly about your own journey with chronic pain and fatigue and how it deepened your relationship with ceremony, shamanism and the nurturing force of nature. Have these experiences changed the way you make art, or simply changed what you’re willing to look at?

My work comes from a very personal space. I don’t question it intellectually. The work is very visceral and comes from my ongoing observations of everything around me, whether it’s politics or stories of myth, or of energy and dreams. All experiences change my work continually. I keep my eyes, ears and heart wide open. I’m not afraid to look into dark corners and shadows.

You’ve moved through so many different visual worlds, from plants and insects, to anatomy, to children and young women. When you look back at those bodies of work, what feels like the thread that has actually been there all along?

The common thread in my work,  is that it’s all about my own experiences. It’s all about something very personal and yet absolutely universal.

You’ve said you try to be “as honest and true to myself as I can” while still holding onto discernment. What does honesty look like in the studio for you? And is there ever a point when being honest in your work feels frightening?

Honesty to me, looks like being truly invested in what I’m painting. It’s a force that happens that I don’t have any direction over. Honesty while painting means not taking shortcuts and staying invested in each piece. It means that I stop when I feel I have investigated a theme to a point where it feels done. Once I can clearly see that I am not interested in a theme anymore, I stop and change direction. I would feel utterly bored if I didn’t. Sometimes making this change can be disconcerting, but I trust in my intuition and follow it without reservation.

Your paintings hold beauty and unease at the same time. Innocence alongside danger, tenderness alongside darkness. Do you think we’ve become less comfortable with that complexity in real life, and do you feel art is one of the places where we can still sit with it?

I believe it’s a human condition to want everything to be comfortable and beautiful at all times. It is an ongoing struggle to accept that life always holds both: beauty and terror. Art gives us the opportunity to see the richness of what it means to experience both.

Please join us any time from now through October 3rd, at Visions West Contemporary at 2605 Walnut St. to see Anne’s work in person. Or visit her site at annesiems.art.