BY SHALEEN DESTEFANO

Mia Bergeron’s paintings possess a luminous quality that transcends the canvas, inviting viewers into dreamlike realms where memory and emotion intertwine. Her masterful use of color and light imbues her work with an almost ethereal atmosphere, sparking in us the nostalgia of the quiet thrill and allure of night swimming in pools we snuck into as teens (sorry mom). Trained in classical techniques at the Charles H. Cecil Studio in Florence, Bergeron seamlessly blends traditional realism with contemporary sensibilities, crafting images that bounce between the observed and the imagined. Her paintings capture fleeting moments of solitude and reflection, resonating with a sense of timelessness and personal introspection. Her art literally takes us back to a place deep in our past that might have been just a dream. It’s hard to put into words, but her work moves us, which is why we were so thrilled to talk with her about her journey and process as an artist. 

Your use of color is truly breathtaking, there’s a luminosity to your work that feels like it’s glowing from within. Can you tell us about your approach to color and light?

Thank you so much! Light- and in turn color- have been aspects of painting I have been drawn to since I first started studying painting when I went to school in Italy. When I would visit museums throughout Europe, it was always the masters of light that spoke to me- Titian, Velasquez, Rembrandt, Vermeer, and later on Sargent. I loved the feeling of walking into a dark, cool museum room and there were these glowing portraits and interior scenes coming alive and leaping from the walls. That love and fascination became a directive for me to steer my approach towards studying light.

Much of your work seems to blur the line between realism and abstraction. How do you decide where to let go of detail and where to lean into it?

In some ways, I am of the belief that all paintings are abstract. Even the most realistic paintings are just color, shapes, darks and lights. That is the language of paint, and I love to have a lot of variation in those components. Over the years I have realized that sometimes abstraction looks more real than realism – a gesture of a person can feel more realistic than the details themselves. I mostly just experiment with this idea. Painting is a visual play, so I never really know what parts will break down and which ones need to anchor the piece.

There’s a quiet intensity in your portraits, an emotional resonance that feels deeply personal. How do you connect with your subjects, and how does that relationship shape the final piece?

Over the years, my relationship to portraits has changed a lot. When I studied in Italy, I was trained to paint from life in a highly detailed and fairly intimate setting. It was all about that individual. Fast forward to 20 years later, and my view of portraits is now more similar to that of a landscape. The people in my paintings are often symbolic of something else, usually a memory or a feeling of something I witnessed. They are one of the arrows pointing to a bigger theme, a moment when humanity looks back on itself.

You trained classically but your style feels incredibly modern and alive. How has your education informed your evolution as an artist?

I was trained to paint from life. I spent thousands of tireless hours trudging through learning how to paint what I saw, and how to see what was in front of me. This is the fundamental mortar of how I paint today. Besides the technical strength training painting from life offers, it also taught me how to slow down and notice what I was seeing. What is the shape of a moving wave? Is the night sky really that black, or is there color? Is that swimming pool I’m about to jump into really full, or is it also visually bare?

Regardless if I paint from life today, I have learned to slow way down and notice what’s going on. In some ways, my atelier training was just an introduction to mindfulness practices. I no longer seek out inspiration- I just spend time noticing what is in front of me, and often it will show me all that I need to go running back into my studio.

Nature and the human figure often intertwine in your work in unexpected ways. What draws you to these themes, and how do they speak to each other in your paintings?

I’m originally from New York City, and I think from a young age my world was all about people. I painted portraits in school and a bit earlier in my career. But in my late twenties, I moved to Chattanooga TN, a place full of quiet surrounding nature. I met my husband here, and he is an adventurous outdoorsman, so this city girl really started spending a lot more time in secluded areas of the woods.  Spending time as an adult in the forest, particularly at night, made me change my relationship to nature – I’m not always the apex predator, but I also feel more part of a whole that isn’t so separated.  I think this gradual shift made its way into my work – the figures in my paintings are often pondering their own reason for being in the landscape.

Can you walk us through your creative process, from first spark of inspiration to finished canvas?

Although my process doesn’t have a ton of linear aspects to it, I can break it down in a few ways. Everything starts with just paying attention. What am I seeing right now? What do I think is going on? The next thing I do is I write my ideas down, no matter how silly. I may think I’ll remember in my studio, but I never do.

From there, I start searching for images that may pertain to an idea. I take A LOT of photos, so I go through my own files and try to find images that may work. I also look at images online to get ideas, and I will search other artists for inspiration on how to approach something.

But all of that process can get redirected and rearranged. I may see something so amazing one day, and I just need to paint it as-is. Or once I paint it, it may fall short and needs something else. I may need to destroy parts of the piece or add a figure to give it an extra push. It’s always a conversation.

Your studio practice seems deeply intentional. What role does environment or routine play in your creativity?

Although I may be nonlinear in my inspiration, I firmly believe in routine. Unless I have an outside event, a family situation, or just a big life challenge or celebration, I am in my studio five days a week. There are days I don’t feel like painting, but after more than twenty years, I have learned that this is also a job for me. I want to keep painting, and in order to do that I have to be realistic about how I show up. I clock my hours!  Routine is the springboard to make the work I want to make in my lifetime.

Are there particular color combinations or techniques you find yourself returning to again and again?

I do love a palette knife sometimes! I love the clean color it puts down, the ease of cleaning, and the visceral texture it leaves. I also seem to be in a green phase at the moment.

You’ve lived and exhibited all over, how has place, including your time in Tennessee, and Denver, influenced your work?

I get inspired by what is around me, so place is really important. The first time I visited Gallery 1261 (where I am represented)  in Denver, I was astounded by seeing the Rockies. I knew the imprint of seeing them would make its way into my work somehow. They also gave me a point of contrast and clarity to newly experience the Appalachian mountains where I live. Changing place and traveling reminds me not to judge nature – beauty and curiosity lives everywhere to those that  seek.

What do you hope people feel or experience when they spend time with your paintings?

I hope they fill my paintings with themselves! My hope is to create images that point back to the viewer – a piece of nostalgic memory they forgot about, a reminder of a strange occurrence they may have had, or an arrow to remember to look up and around.

Thank you so much, Mia! To learn more about Mia Bergeron and her art, please visit miabergeron.com or see her work in person at Gallery 1261 at 1261 Delaware St. Suite 1.