Michelle Cortez Gonzalez in her studio

Michelle Cortez Gonzalez in her studio

Michelle Cortez Gonzales

Michelle Cortez Gonzales is a mixed media artist. She combines painting, sewing and constructing of domestic materials to explore the fragmentation of memory.

Born in Fort Worth, Texas, Cortez Gonzales earned her BFA in painting from the University of Texas at Arlington, and MFA in painting from the University of Dallas. She carries an extensive record of exhibitions across galleries in the DFW area. She has been a passionate advocate for art education for over thirteen years. In her professional experience, she worked with the Arts Council of Fort Worth from 2007 to 2014 as a public art community engagement specialist and project manager. Prior to working with the Arts Council, she worked three years with the FWISD as a high school art teacher and art department head at Polytechnic High School.


Interview with Michelle Cortez Gonzales

Questions by Andreana Donahue

Can you tell us a bit about your background and where you grew up? In what ways have your early visual experiences and personal history led to art-making?
My interest in painting took root during my second year of college. I thought photography was going to be my path until I had my first painting class and fell in love with its abilities. I grew up in a blue-collar Mexican-American neighborhood in south Fort Worth, Texas. As an only child, I often felt isolated and unseen. I became curiously hungry for a connection to the rich history and culture I was surrounded by. But even at an early age, I was aware of this unspoken deprivation and disconnection with our familial lineage. I began collecting old family photographs and other little trinkets often found on journeys in my home and neighborhood. I imagined stories about their connection to me. 

I distinctly remember when the church behind my childhood home installed stained glass windows. I quickly seized the beautifully colored scraps lying around the grounds, and placed them in the windows of my bedroom. My grandmother’s catholic altar on her dresser was decorated with brightly painted figurines draped in lace, shiny crosses, and gold details that I would dream of. Museums were not places we often frequented as children. These remnants became the first forms of art that I experienced, which continue to inspire my artwork today.

Comfort, Pain, Diptych, 2020. Resin, acrylic, oil, embroidery, sewn fabric, 72" x 84"

Comfort, Pain, Diptych, 2020. Resin, acrylic, oil, embroidery, sewn fabric, 72" x 84"

Where are you currently based and what initially attracted you to working in this community? Are there any aspects of this place that have surfaced in your work?
I have lived in Fort Worth  all my life. Most of my family and friends live here. I love the small-town feel of this big city. I’m rooted and inspired by my surroundings and feel supported artistically. We have a large vibrant art community and music scene that keeps Fort Worth funky! There’s also a lot of great untold history that I continue to explore.  

Can you tell us about your studio and what a typical day is like for you? Do you share space or ideas with other artists while working, or is it a more solitary routine?
Due to the Covid-19 shutdown , I abruptly lost my larger studio space. In the meantime, I have set up shop in my spare bedroom at home. It has its pros and cons, but I’m disciplined and created a routine that keeps me motivated and consistent. I wake up around 9 am, get dressed, grab some tea. I put my “painting shoes” on and walk down the hall. My work encompasses many mediums and processes, so my days aren't always the same. But for a full 8-hour working day, it’s just me and my favorite musicians in the studio.  I’m a night owl, so during late-night impulses, it’s definitely a plus to have my studio in the comfort of my home. 

What criteria do you follow for selecting materials? Do you prefer to maintain a narrow focus or work across diverse media? How do you navigate the limitations and possibilities that result from this path?
I enjoy working with materials that carry a history of human interactivity such as used textiles, wood, and old family photographs. I’m kind of a hoarder and collect all sorts of objects often found in thrift stores or on curbsides. I work across diverse media, but I consider myself predominantly a painter. Painting is a magical medium that can contend with other media and survive all decades. Incorporating other materials into the work allows me to expand on the possibilities of paint. I’d like to think there’s this dialogue happening in my work about the relevance of both paint and these sentimental objects. 

I can get lost in experiments, so I’m still learning to manage time. My current space restrictions have me tapping into a “Marie Kondo” mentality - if it doesn’t spark joy or fit in the studio, it isn’t necessary. Organization of space and mind really helps keep me grounded. I find that keeping a list of ideas, elements, and imagery in my work lays out a visual path where I can trace my progression. 

Strangers in Frame, 2020. Resin, acrylic, oil, silver leaf, sewn fabric, silver frames, 66" x 102"

Strangers in Frame, 2020. Resin, acrylic, oil, silver leaf, sewn fabric, silver frames, 66" x 102"

Can you walk us through your overall process? How would you describe your approach to manipulating materials? What about decision-making and editing?
My process is slow, nomadic, and physical. I like to compare it to an interrupted memory: Imagine remembering something down to the specifics, and someone comes along and gives you a different perspective, and changes everything. Like a memory, my work is a recreation of one’s past. 

I don’t always follow one specific route. Sometimes I spend the first half of the day researching, or writing out some ideas on paper. Other times I begin with various pieces of mismatched fabrics that I sew together in a Frankenstein-like approach. I have recently been using Photoshop to help me layout the composition with imagery sourced from old photographs or my own. Mostly, I’m painting a few pieces at a time. I like to trick the eye with what’s painted and what isn’t and fragment the surface with implied and actual objects. These methods allow me to break up the space within and outside the parameters of the painting and create tension between illusion and reality, and abstraction and representation. 

I sew, cut, stretch, drape materials, and deconstruct imagery with paint to signify the process of remembering, which I feel correlates with the ambiguity of my compositions. Some elements read as material support. Multiple perspectives can be experienced in one piece. Some areas are actual objects while some areas are just paint — things are just slipping around in different spaces.

Can you talk about some of the ongoing interests, imagery, and concepts that have informed your process and body of work over time? How do you anticipate your work progressing in the future?
I think a lot about how people are just an accumulation of fragmented memories in different forms. Things we collect, stories we tell or don’t tell impact our lives in many ways and become our truths. Memories can be so dubious and reconstructions through objects and imagery, I find, are much more compelling. Sometimes, more honorable.

My source of imagery comes from textile patterns, nature, and vivid colors that remind me of childhood, family, and home. I love old photographs, especially candid ones from the 1970s that now carry a faded red tint. I am drawn to things that have a translucency similar to a piece of candy glistening in the sun, or textures that resemble a waxy oil cloth; patterns of a lace-covered window, casting shadows on the floor. I like to combine different parts of imagery like this together with figures. 

I’m always thinking about how I could push my work to be more atmospheric and object-like. I feel my work challenges the traditional limits of painting but I’ve just touched the surface and hope to push the boundaries more. I see my work coming off the wall and becoming more abstract in the future. 

Sappy Fools, 2020. Oil, lace, canvas, 30" x 42"

Sappy Fools, 2020. Oil, lace, canvas, 30" x 42"

Do you pursue any collaborations, projects, or careers in addition to your studio practice? If so, are there connections between the two?
I am an art educator and taught art to junior and high school students before and during graduate school. I hope to teach again once the pandemic is under control. I love helping others build creativity and curiosity about the world. I think teaching is like thinking about things in reverse because you have to break instructions down and reflect on what it is you are teaching and why it is important. The hard questions I ask my students are the same questions I must ask myself in the studio. I have learned so much about myself and the work I am creating. There is definitely a connection between the two. 

As a result of the pandemic, many artists have experienced limited access to their studios or loss of exhibitions, income, or other opportunities. Has your way of working (or not working) shifted significantly during this time? Are there unexpected insights or particular challenges you’ve experienced?
My way of working has definitely shifted.  I lost a solo exhibition at a major gallery in Dallas, Texas. As mentioned before, I also lost my main studio, and I haven’t had the income to find a new one equal in size. I look forward to the days I can move more freely in a space and build larger works. With all that said, I have really appreciated the opportunity to slow down, take it easy, and think deeply about my work. I feel fortunate I have some space to create and this is perhaps just what my work needed for the moment. I know things will change and I will be ready. 

In a time that seems to be marked by uncertainty, collective anxiety, and increasing social unrest, why do you think the perspectives and contributions of artists remain meaningful? Do you feel a natural relationship exists between your work (or the role artists play more broadly) and confronting established systems - of power, cultural institutions, or otherwise?
Artists don't tend to see things so black and white as the world is usually perceived. Historically, we’ve been the risk-takers who challenge ideas and push people to look beyond their personal scope. I think people are attracted to the risk and excitement that art can encourage, especially when it is an aesthetically pleasing experience. Creating is an act of altering or changing, so in some way, all artists have a part in a movement towards change. I don’t consider my work to be politically charged in any sense, but I feel it evokes a presence of loneliness, and erasure of memory and self  that perhaps speaks to what many people are feeling right now. I don’t intend to provide answers with my work. Instead, I hope viewers think of their own experiences and consider their position within history and society and work to change the narrative.

Shadows of Ourselves, 2020. Acrylic, oil, fabric, wood, 42" x 66"

Shadows of Ourselves, 2020. Acrylic, oil, fabric, wood, 42" x 66"

Can you share some of your recent influences? Are there specific works - from visual art, literature, film, or music - that are important to you?
I recently watched the film, “The Last Black Man in San Francisco” which is about gentrification and displacement. The main character tries to reclaim his childhood home and reconnect to the past. But the past is not what he thought it was. I love films that have all these subliminal messages you only get after watching four times or so. 

Music in general is really important to me. My father is a musician and played in several bands when I was growing up; Tejano, jazz, blues, big band. I would always get dragged to his jam practices and gigs. I learned to love every aspect of music and how it works collaboratively with many different sounds. I never learned to play an instrument but I like to think that my making process is much like jazz. There’s an arrangement between parts and it’s involved, but there’s also a lot of improvisation and compromise going on. 

Who are some contemporary artists you’re excited about? What are the best exhibitions you’ve seen in recent memory?
Some favorites are Gerhardt Richter, Sigmar Polka, Robert Rauschenberg, Amir Fallah, and Laura Owens. I guess I’m attracted to the duality aspect of their work. Other inspirations are Mona Hatoum, Consuelo Jimenez-Underwood, and Mark Bradford. I recently saw Bradford’s exhibition at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth. His process of collaging and peeling off his surfaces is really fascinating. Another memorable exhibition was Laura Owens at the Dallas Museum of Art a few years back. The way she uses her materials and addresses the canvas differently each time she makes a new body of work gets me excited. 

What are you working on in the studio right now? What’s coming up next for you?
I’m working towards a two-person show coming up in November. I have also been selected to work with a local museum as part of their Community Artist Residency for the upcoming 2021 year.