One of the self-taught artist Uman\u2019s first introductions to color, line and form were the vibrantly patterned dirac and baati dresses worn by the women in her hometown, Mogadishu, Somalia. She also took inspiration from the international fashion magazines that she found \u2014 and secretly ripped pages from \u2014 at hair salons, doctors\u2019 offices and hotels. During this period, when the mononymous artist, now 45, wasn\u2019t with family or playing outside \u2014 her uncles and grandparents owned camels and goats \u2014 she was often drawing. And she knew three things for certain: the gender she\u2019d been assigned at birth was incorrect, her life would follow an artistic path and someday, she\u2019d live in New York City.<\/p>\n
When Uman was nine, her family fled the Somali civil war and moved to Mombasa, Kenya. Four years later, she went to live with relatives in Aarhus, Denmark, as her parents worried that, in the conservative Kenyan society, her trans identity put her at risk. After spending her teenage years in Europe, she arrived in New York in the early 2000s. Soon after, she embraced an intuitive and densely patterned style of painting, using bright, saturated hues of acrylic and spray paint that she sometimes applied to found objects such as furniture, fabric and carpet. To get by, she worked odd jobs \u2014 as a dishwasher, a barista and a seamstress at a Uniqlo store \u2014 and sold her pieces in Union Square. Eventually, the art world took note: In 2015, she mounted a debut solo show at the alternative nonprofit White Columns, and in 2022, her work adorned Nicola Vassell Gallery\u2019s booth at the Independent art fair.<\/p>\n
For the past six years, Uman has worked out of a nearly 8,000-square-foot former storefront in Albany. Having traded Manhattan for the type of nature that shaped her childhood, she lives in a small town an hour away, on a farm where there\u2019s room for her animals, which include chickens, cats and dogs. She often references rural life in her abstracted and grid-like landscapes<\/a>. In her large-scale painting \u201cSumac Tree in Roseboom\u201d (2022-23), which will be on view in a survey exhibition<\/a> of her work opening Saturday at Bard College\u2019s Hessel Museum, a black tree limb reaches across the center of the canvas, its branches ending in ruby-red squashy bubbles that are surrounded by seemingly thousands of small, multicolored dots.<\/p>\n Earlier this month, for T\u2019s Artist\u2019s Questionnaire<\/a>, I visited Uman at her studio, where her signature swirls, dots, triangles and diamonds spill, here and there, from the canvases and onto the walls, rolling chairs and doorknobs.<\/p>\n What\u2019s your day like? How much do you sleep and what\u2019s your work schedule?<\/p>\n It\u2019s a full day. I love waking up early, around 6 a.m. I have my tea and come to the studio, and I usually work on and off until 8 or 9 p.m. The first few years here, I worked later into the night, and then I\u2019d sleep upstairs at this studio. I now have a small apartment in town, and I\u2019d rather get up in the morning and do something, like bike, before I come to the studio.<\/p>\n I sleep four hours on average, even now, which is not good at my age. I eat very little when I\u2019m working because when I eat, I become tired and want to nap.<\/p>\n How many hours of creative work do you think you do in a day?<\/p>\n Let\u2019s say an average of six good hours, minus interruptions for admin. I get my peace when I\u2019m home \u2014 I\u2019ve managed to make a little space there to work. When everybody\u2019s away, when it\u2019s off business hours and I don\u2019t expect someone to call or email me, I tend to be more creative.<\/p>\n What\u2019s the worst studio you ever had?<\/p>\n I wouldn\u2019t call it the worst, but when I lived in Crown Heights, Brooklyn [from 2006 to 2008], I had one room, and that was both my studio and my living space. It was what I could afford.<\/p>\n What\u2019s the first work you ever sold? For how much?<\/p>\n I\u2019m not sure what the first work was but around 2011, I sold [the poet, art critic and painter] Rene Ricard a collage painting of sheep for $80. It\u2019ll be in the Bard show, in the main entrance vitrine. I\u2019d met him at the Chelsea Hotel, and the first thing he did was give me a painting. He had a second apartment downstairs that he\u2019d converted into a studio, and so, he went and got a white canvas and a red oil stick and made one brand-new for me. I had to walk home with this wet painting sticking out.<\/p>\n When you start a new piece, where do you begin?<\/p>\n I love working on the floor. I start with a mood, a color, and I determine the size of the canvas or linen or whatever I\u2019m using. Then I do a rough drawing with charcoal, and that\u2019ll be the foundation. In the past, I just started with acrylic. I never liked white gesso [which is used to prime surfaces before painting]; I always wanted the color to go straight onto the canvas and that will probably be a problem for restorers in the future.<\/p>\n When I do geometric paintings, I have more of a plan. But I\u2019m not a conceptual artist. I think about ideas, but I\u2019m just more of an emotional artist.<\/p>\n How do you know when you\u2019re done?<\/p>\n When I never want to touch it again. I physically can\u2019t touch it. If I do, I have a very off day. Because if I go deeper into the work, then it becomes unresolved. Thank God I have this space; I can just move the painting somewhere else. I had a harder time when I was in a tiny room.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve stopped doing this, but I also used to love sending pictures of a work to one or two of my closest, truest friends to see what they think. They\u2019d say to me, \u201cThis is good\u201d or \u201cThis needs more work.\u201d<\/p>\n How many assistants do you have?<\/p>\n Two. They\u2019re both M.F.A.s at University of Albany. I didn\u2019t go to art school, so it\u2019s good to have Annabelle, who\u2019s so great with colors and mixing. Christian\u2019s well organized and very good with administrative stuff. I technically can only afford one, but I liked them both and they knew each other. I had three people on my payroll at one point, and I had to cut down and just be reasonable. I\u2019m not doing five shows a year. I\u2019m doing one or two. I like the idea of not trying to be everywhere or be part of the machine, this art world machine.<\/p>\n Do you play music when you\u2019re making art?<\/p>\n Oh, yes. I\u2019m a house-music aficionado. But I also listen to Mozart and Chopin. I\u2019ve listened to Philip Glass for years now; there\u2019s something about that quietness I like. And I go to podcasts, like The Daily. Sometimes I don\u2019t have anything on. I love that, too. I\u2019ve realized in my later years that I can just sit in silence.<\/p>\n When did you first feel comfortable saying you\u2019re a professional artist?<\/p>\n I don\u2019t feel comfortable saying it even now. I also think that a lot of people don\u2019t understand it, including my family. There\u2019s no place where I\u2019d really say that and I\u2019m not a very social person; I don\u2019t go to functions.<\/p>\n It\u2019s not one of those careers where you have a pension or a 401(k). You could be an artist today and a nobody tomorrow. Very few people have an art career where they\u2019re successful to their old age. There\u2019s always that question: When is the other shoe going to drop? I know an artist who\u2019s 84 and has never had that type of attention, but they do great work in hopes that maybe people will see it.<\/p>\n Is there a meal you eat on repeat when you\u2019re working?<\/p>\n A banana. A funny thing is that a lot of Somalis grew up having bananas as a staple in our meals. So, no matter how much I\u2019ve left the culture and moved on, I love a banana. I have a tattoo of one.<\/p>\n Are you bingeing any TV shows right now?<\/p>\n \u201c90 Day Fianc\u00e9.\u201d I find it so endearing and sweet and raw \u2014 people looking for love.<\/p>\n What\u2019s the weirdest object in your studio?<\/p>\n I have a whole sheep\u2019s shear that I painted. It\u2019s somewhere in a box. And I have animal teeth and skeletons, deer antlers. People give me little camels \u2014 all those stuffed animals you saw [in a storage area] were gifts.<\/p>\n Why camels?<\/p>\n I grew up with camels. I used to drink camel milk and eat camel meat. It was just part of my culture. My sister got married and then she had a camel farm. I love them as animals. They\u2019re gentle and sweet, and they have this resilience. I\u2019ve always made camel paintings. As a matter of fact, I want to put some kind of camel sculpture in a show.<\/p>\n How often do you talk to other artists?<\/p>\n Every few days. I have one hour in the car to go back home from the studio, and I call people. One of my friends is a writer, and she goes to the art previews and openings in Manhattan, and we speak twice a week so I can get all the gossip. I think the cure for my isolation has always been phone calls. I\u2019ve now mastered when I need to stop the conversation \u2014 five minutes before I\u2019m going to be in a dead zone.<\/p>\n What\u2019s the last thing that made you cry?<\/p>\n Oh, my dog, Rolfie. [The artist\u2019s elderly pet passed away after this interview occurred.] He fell trying to come inside the house while my hands were busy cleaning something, and I had to run and help him in. He broke my heart because he just sat there helpless. I also still read the news; everything\u2019s so bleak. What\u2019s there not to cry about?<\/p>\n What do you usually wear when you work?<\/p>\n What I\u2019m wearing now, which is all black. And an apron, which I wear at home, too. I have a uniform.<\/p>\n If you have windows, what do they look out on?<\/p>\n My old studio had windows that looked out on the town Cherry Valley \u2014 nothing but trees and hills. What I sacrificed to move here was windows. I do have a backyard that I love to sit in when the weather is good, though.<\/p>\n Do the fluorescent lights affect your work?<\/p>\n They do, yes. I painted under a dim light in the past. Now everything looks very bright. Also, I have bad vision, and I wear glasses. Sometimes I wear tinted ones while I\u2019m painting so I see a little bit darker. Other times I take my glasses off, as I like the idea of not seeing clearly \u2014 that way I can have a different perspective.<\/p>\n What\u2019s your worst habit?<\/p>\n I leave the water running \u2014 like if I\u2019m brushing my teeth and then decide to do something with my hair. I\u2019ve had this problem for years. I grew up in a place where we sometimes had to go fetch water. We\u2019d fill these big drums with it and that\u2019s what we\u2019d use to bathe and cook until we had to refill them. There might now be a part of me that\u2019s a bit wasteful because I have a well, so I think I can run the water forever.<\/p>\n What are you reading?<\/p>\n I\u2019m listening to an audiobook of \u201cBlack AF History\u201d (2023) by Michael Harriot [a nonfiction book that reassesses American history, placing Black Americans at its center]. It\u2019s very good. There are many things in it that I didn\u2019t know about.<\/p>\n What\u2019s your favorite artwork by someone else?<\/p>\n There are two. I\u2019ve always been drawn to Brancusi\u2019s \u201cBird in Space<\/a>\u201d (1928). Whenever I go to MoMA [the Museum of Modern Art in New York], I look for it. I also love the six Caryatids<\/a> [female statues, dated 420 to 415 BC, which supported the south porch of the Erechtheion, a temple dedicated to the goddess Athena] at the Acropolis Museum in Athens. I\u2019ve never stopped thinking about them since seeing them in 2022.<\/p>\n Whose work makes you most jealous?<\/p>\n No one\u2019s.<\/p>\n What embarrasses you?<\/p>\n Sharing too much of my life. I go on and off Instagram. I was so na\u00efve back in the day, so proud to share my paintings. Now, I think, Why do I need to share that? I know people like to see them, but posting online doesn\u2019t do the work justice. It\u2019s better to see it in person.<\/p>\n This interview has been edited and condensed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"One of the self-taught artist Uman\u2019s first introductions to color, line and form were the vibrantly patterned dirac…\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":521945,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[31],"tags":[222475,2273,307,304,305,306,222473,13470,308,93,222472,61,60,222474,222471],"class_list":["post-521944","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-arts-and-design","tag-albany-ny","tag-art","tag-arts","tag-arts-and-design","tag-artsanddesign","tag-artsdesign","tag-bard-college","tag-content-type-personal-profile","tag-design","tag-entertainment","tag-hessel-museum-of-art","tag-ie","tag-ireland","tag-mogadishu-somalia","tag-uman-artist"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/521944","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=521944"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/521944\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/521945"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=521944"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=521944"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=521944"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}