ARTTYCO TALKS
Join Kyla in this Arttyco Talk as she shares how nature, urban life, and moments of creative suspension shape her art, inviting viewers to notice the subtle poetry in everyday life.
ARTTYCO TALKS |
EPISODE #21: KYLA JOHNK
Your work captures the subtle poetry of everyday textures and movements. How do you decide when a moment is worth transforming into a painting?
K: Usually it isn’t a single definitive moment, but more a process of trial and error. Some ideas make it to the canvas if the composition is strong and the colors are vibrant.
Painting is a love-hate experience for me, but I will always be willing to enter this dynamic because it heals me somehow.
2. You’ve said that when creating, you feel suspended in time. What does that state of suspension allow you to access artistically that ordinary perception might not?
K: It gives me a sense of presence, a lack of responsibility, and a kind of freedom that sparks impulsive work. Not knowing what comes next creates an artistic twist, while ordinary perception keeps you doing the mundane.
When that suspended time runs out, it’s either met with pride or a frantic search for a new angle.
This suspended time is missed when I return to doing daily tasks. Luckily art has an energy that keeps me alert, ready to observe the corners of its existence.
3. Nature and urban life both seem to inform your visual language. How do these contrasting environments shape your palette, rhythm, or sense of composition?
K: I have a deep admiration for nature. Growing up in Colorado, hiking was what we did for fun, and that love of landscape has stayed with me. Cities, though, have their own rhythm, and they too have a place in my heart. Urban scenes are cluttered and angular, while nature is patient and fluid.
I think my work gathers lessons from both. The stillness and subtle beauty of the natural world, and the layered complexity of urban life. They balance each other in my compositions.
4. Recently, your work has ventured into deeper, more introspective territories confronting fears and unpleasant realities. How has this shift changed your relationship with creation and vulnerability?
K: It can reach my core, strip my layers and leave me feeling lonely and confused. But isn’t that what makes it raw, wild and challenging? Thinking and crossing boundaries. These pieces don't follow the same path because I am not asking them to be beautiful.
5. Your paintings invite viewers to slow down and notice what’s often overlooked. What kind of emotional or sensory experience do you hope people carry with them after engaging with your work?
K: I can only hope it evokes something in them (calm,thought, curiosity). My work can be many things that are hard to define. Indifference would be the greatest insult.
The pause to reflect on any piece is a delicate balance, where every viewer brings their own perception, judgment, and longing. If my work opens a window into the intricacies of expression then there is a connection that exists between us.
That connection is what I hope they carry with them. Even better if the connection takes root and draws them back to wanting to feel it again and again
