Emma Hadzi Antich: Orbs of Light and Luminous Beings

By Hayley Labrum Morrison

Based in Austin, Texas, Emma Hadzi Antich is a self-taught contemporary artist and Political Science teacher using the conventions of iconography to portray human beings as spiritual creatures. Her paintings blend modern and ancient symbols moving us beyond our anthropocentric lenses into a reality that is mysterious, strange, and inexplicable. Read on to learn about the experiences and concepts that fuel the ethereal glow of Emma’s paintings.

Hayley Labrum Morrison (HLM): Tell us about yourself, Emma.

Emma Hadzi Antich (EHA): I was born in Baltimore, MD, and I spent much of my childhood moving around the Mid-Atlantic region. As an introvert, the activity of regularly uprooting my life taught me to build a reliable interior world. I realized from a young age that art materials and books make excellent constant companions when you’re uncertain where you’ll be next year. I’ve also always struggled with autoimmune diseases, so there’s always a book and a pad of paper near my bed. I brought these habits with me when I moved to Boston to attend a junior college and to Austin when I transferred to The University of Texas at Austin; I used them throughout graduate school and young-motherhood; I packed them in my suitcase when we briefly moved to France; and I am employing them now during this unprecedented moment in history.

HLM: You’ve got some really interesting imagery in your work. How have your imagery and concepts developed over time?

EHA: I have always been drawn to figurative art. At first I was very inspired by academic artists and I practiced using oils to imitate their realism. However, I was also interested in employing severed hands and feet as symbols that represent our loss of connection and our lack of real agency— these combined with realism made for some very violent looking paintings. I began visiting Christian orthodox churches when I was eighteen because my partner was raised in that faith, but it was some time before I began to absorb the meaning and attempt the style myself. During that time, I continued to study the academic style, but I wasn’t satisfied with my efforts. I wanted the symbolism to stand for itself and I felt that the realism of my paintings was interfering. On one pilgrimage to a small church in a gold mining town in California, I discovered the interior was covered in floor-to-ceiling icons in bright jewel tones.  Colorful saints placidly held their severed limbs and the impact was intense. It was an experience that I couldn’t walk back. That was about ten years ago, and I’m still on that pilgrimage.  

HLM: What materials and dimensions do you usually work in? Also, I've noticed you've been painting on glass lately, tell me about that.

EHA: In the past, I painted on old cabinet doors because they reminded me of iconostases, but I began to feel more limited by the chance nature of recycled materials. I started building my own panels so I could control the dimensions. I shifted to glass while I was living in Alsace, France where I discovered the local tradition of reverse glass painting. This regional folk art is heavily influenced by the tenuous, and sometimes violent, cultural exchange between France and Germany. As I explored the technique's possibilities, I realized that using glass as a surface for paint lends itself wonderfully to symbolism. Board and canvas are utilitarian resting places for paint, but glass as a foundation is not quite solid. Glass is always shifting and incredibly fragile and it’s the perfect analogy for religious, spiritual, and political values.  

HLM: Where is your creative space and how do you stay productive?

EHA: My studio is in the spare bedroom at the back of my house. Since becoming a mother, I’ve had to become stricter with my studio time and more flexible with my materials. I cannot paint whenever inspiration strikes, so instead, I schedule my time in the studio. Showing up daily and keeping my appointment with the muse has helped me maintain a consistent practice even when time has been scarce. Because of the pandemic, school is canceled and I have to work at night. I’ve learned to maximize my studio time by preparing my space during the day, so that when I enter my studio at night, all that remains is for me to sit down and get to work. I am tired at the close of the day, especially after I’ve just performed an extensive bedtime ritual for a small person, so I like to brew a large, steaming mug of ginger tea to bring with me into the studio.  

HLM: Walk me through how you conceive a new piece and carry it through to completion.

EHA: All of my paintings begin in the margin of a book. I usually make a star with a “P” next to the passage that inspires me. I am always reading, and I consider it a part of my studio practice. I keep a sketchbook that is organized by themes and concepts (my favorite tab right now is titled “Eschatology” and I have no idea what will come from it, but it is one I flip to often). Anytime I encounter inspiration, I jot down the idea or image in the book according to where it falls thematically. I generally won’t begin working on a painting, unless I have several ideas for paintings that fall within the same conceptual framework. Once I have tested the depths of the well, I’ll draw out a couple of ideas for paintings. When I decide on a starting place, I make a drawing for the first painting. Then I transfer the drawing to the panel or glass and get to work. At this stage, most of the decisions have been made and I’m able to enter a state of flow. This is the best part, and I always experience a stage of mourning when a painting is complete.  

HLM: Okay, now for the symbolism. I know there HAS to be meaning in the anatomical motifs and reoccurring shapes in your work.

EHA: The style of my work is inspired by iconography, but the lexicon of symbolism tends to describe the modern condition. Severed feet suggest a loss of common ground or an absence of collective mythology. Severed hands stand for lost agency or autonomy. Stars represent the capacity for awe (or lack thereof). Hearts are symbolic of our forgotten vocabulary for thumos. Eyes have a more complicated significance. I’ve been going on a yearly pilgrimage to Mont Saint Odile for the past four years and the attribute for Saint Odile is disembodied eyes. The set of eyes that she carries are emblems for insight, but they also literally represent her personal history. Saint Odile was born blind, but in her adolescence, an angel brought a bishop to baptize her, and she miraculously regained her vision. For this reason, eyes in my paintings might represent insight at times and divine intervention at others. 

HLM: I’ve been noticing more UFO-like discs and references to outer space in your work lately. How does this imagery function within your work?

EHA: For me, UFOs and the stars express the persistent human desire to belong to and believe in something greater than our own small selves. From antiquity through modernity, we have looked upon the night sky with wonder and awe. Neck-bent, we have witnessed all manner of aerial phenomena: orbs of light, spinning suns, swirling discs, luminous beings, and floating fires. And as if the lenses of our own eyes weren’t foggy enough, we further interpret these phenomena through our respective cultural framework and social constructions. Throughout history, we have experienced these mystical objects as gods or God or fae or angels or demons or hallucinations or witchcraft or spacecraft. I am fascinated by the taboo surrounding the study of UFOs. As taboos often do, I think that the belief in UFOs points to the unspoken dogmas and the sacred morés that guide post-enlightenment values. 

HLM: How does the imagery and meaning differ from your figurative to your landscape pieces?

EHA: The mountain paintings depict the danger in evaluating reality from a human-centric point of view. The landscapes use wild nature and human nature as mirrors for one another. Once [upon a time] humankind and nature were inseparable; now, we are so committed to dominating nature for our own gain that we can never possibly return to that harmonious relationship. As we reconcile ourselves to this irreversible condition, we feel cut off from our history and severed from our connection with nature. In this way, alienation from nature has become alienation from our true selves. The figurative work and landscapes intend to convey the same meaning, just from different vantage points.

HLM: What non-art things are you into? Do they ever manifest in your work?

EHA: I am also a political science teacher so I’m always trying to keep abreast of current events. Most of my coursework in undergraduate and graduate school was in Political Philosophy, and I still devote time to this field of study. Right now, I am most drawn to areas of thought that describe invisible systems of oppression existing within democracies. I almost never talk about art around other professors and I almost never talk about my academic studies in the sphere of art, so I feel there is this split inside of me. Lately, I’ve felt called to blend the two, but I am still figuring out what that means. 

I would not consider my artwork to be overtly political, but the questions I ask, the books I read, and the people to whom I listen show up in my art in subtle ways. For example, my work frequently criticizes modern Western values like the myth of self-sufficiency, materialism and individualism. I believe these three values play a large role in laying fertile ground for social and political despotism.  

HLM: Who are some contemporary artists that you're really excited about?

EHA: Before settling into quarantine, the last exhibition I attended was Betelhem Makonnen’s Rock Standard Time. Her art opens doors in my mind that I previously thought were peepholes. Hopefully, Austin will be safe enough for me to emerge from quarantine in September to see Katy Horan’s show at grayDUCK. I’m looking forward to that.  

HLM: What are some of the highlights of your art career so far?

EHA: I think my favorite exhibition that I’ve participated in was through The Contemporary Austin’s Crit Group. I met many wonderful and supportive people through this program and I learned so much about my art and myself. I also loved building an installation for Just Some Me Time at The Museum of Human Achievement (I love everything and anything that Zac puts together). I built a little chapel lit by blacklights; in my mind it was the kind of place where Beetlejuice might celebrate Russian orthodox Easter.  

HLM: What are you working on right now? Any tentative shows coming up?

EHA: Currently, I'm making double-paned glass paintings whose symbols change depending on the viewer's position in the gallery. I'm looking forward to building glass paintings in ways that break out of the second dimension.

As the pandemic extends into time unknown, I am uncertain about the future. That said, I am painting a series of Byzantine landscapes for the Julia C. Butridge Gallery at the Dougherty Art Center. I’m tentatively titling this exhibition The Anthroposcenery and it is scheduled for October 3, 2020. I am also participating in a group show at Vault Stone Shop called Saints & Intermediaries; this exhibition was scheduled for June and now it is TBD. I am also supposed to have a solo show of glass paintings at the Museum of Human Achievement, but this date is also TBD.

Follow Emma into the TBD future of saints and UFO’s on Instagram and view more of her work on her website.

Written by Hayley Labrum Morrison.

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