Featured artist: Stephen O'Donnell
Les Perruches, 30x24, acrylic on Ampersand Gessobord
Known since childhood as the “artistic one,” Stephen O’Donnell has followed a winding path back to painting after years exploring music, theater, and performance. Entirely self-taught, his work is rooted in a fascination with history and classical portraiture, yet transformed through themes of self-portraiture, gender, and identity. The result is art that bridges past and present, offering viewers both beauty and space for personal interpretation.
Imminent Encounter, 20x16, acrylic on Ampersand Gessobord
Q: You’re not only a painter, but also a singer and writer. How do those different creative practices influence one another, and do you find they speak to the same part of you or express something entirely different?
Oddly enough, I don’t think they influence each other at all! They seem to take up totally different quarters in my brain. When I published a book of short fiction two years ago, people who knew me from my paintings were surprised at how dark my writing is. (Frankly, I am, too!) But whatever I’m working at creatively, I give free reign to; it’s going to be what it’s going to be. In my work, I’m intuitive, not intellectual. I trust my subconscious, and I’m often as surprised as anyone as to what shows up on the panel or the page.
La infanta y sus amiguitos, 24x24, acrylic on Ampersand Gessobord
Q: To what extent is your work a reflection of yourself, especially regarding your experiences with gender, versus taking on a life of its own?
I’d have to say that my work is entirely a reflection of myself. Again, since I work so directly from my subconscious, I guess it would have to be. So, everything I create - even if it’s a squirrel or a crow - appears through the filter of me. My taste, my sense of humor, my particular fascinations. For whatever reason, my work is very little influenced by what other contemporary artists are doing, by the taste and ideas of others. I think I’m really lucky in that regard. And I think this artistic “self-absorption” is one of the things that has helped make my work - whatever the specific subject matter - very consistent throughout my career.
And then, I’m actually the model in so many of my paintings. As a male or a female, a few times an animal, and once, even a vegetable. I identify as non-binary, and a large percentage of my paintings feature me in historical female dress. These self-portraits in “drag”, in addition to being a way to acknowledge my gender identity, are always such a great opportunity for me utilize my knowledge of period costume and design, and to honor the great historical portraiture that has always been my greatest artistic love and inspiration. Another Steve O’Donnell - the one who is probably best known as the head writer for David Letterman - having been introduced to my work, was very complimentary, as well as describing it as “Part Raphael, part RuPaul.” I love that!
After 'Le Déjeuner sur l'herbe' by Manet, 30x40, acrylic on Ampersand Gessobord
Q: With Re:Pose - Subverting the Gendered Gaze in the Historical Nude, you revisit classical portrayals of the nude. How does your work question or rewrite the narratives that art history has traditionally imposed on gender?
Of course, that was the goal: to question those narratives and expectations about gender. And, particularly, to focus on how we still view bodies through our gender-divided ideas of passivity and power. Because throughout history the nude female body has most often been presented as a passive object, while the nude male body has been portrayed as an active and even aggressive figure.
So, what do we think and feel when a naked male body is objectified and posed in a clearly passive manner? And how do we respond when a nude woman is portrayed as vigorous and centered and in control? Currently, images that would fit that description are not particularly unusual. So, I felt that by going back and reinterpreting well-known works by important and recognizable artists, I could much more clearly pose those questions. Because the ideas we hold about gender and bodies are still too often extremely binary, and the influence of our visual history on our collective consciousness - thousands of years of art making - is still very strong.
Intruder, 10x10, acrylic on Ampersand Gessobord
Q: In your series of Les Animaux, which features animals adorned with jewelry, are you exploring symbolism? Or something else entirely?
Honestly, it’s mostly about whimsy. But when forced to really think about it, I can say that they explore a very unlikely juxtaposition, a confrontation between the simplicity and life force of Nature and the extremely labored artificiality of the most precious expression of human craft. Nature versus the highest level of civilization. So, it’s the unexpected proximity, the tension inherent in these meetings that tells the story; they’re together on their little stage, in relationship but mutually purposeless.
A Boy and his Dog, 24x18, acrylic on Ampersand Gessobord
Q: In several of your paintings, birds appear as recurring subjects. Do they carry a particular symbolic meaning, or do they represent something more personal?
I can’t really say they do. It’s just that they’re beautiful. I guess I don’t think that the experience, the wonder of seeing a bird in real life, is something that I can adequately transfer to a painting. So, they become mostly just a beautiful and useful object - to me, anyway; I think these images often mean quite a bit more to the people who collect them. Maybe they’re able to find more evidence of the bird’s real magic than I can. I hope so.
Flare / Flair, 12x12, acrylic on Ampersand Gessobord
Q: Can you walk us through your painting process? Do you begin with a concept, a costume, or a historical reference?
Like I said about my work seeming to so frequently come directly from my subconscious, ideas for specific paintings often appear to come out of nowhere. But when they do, they’re almost completely worked out, color and details included. So, all I do is make a tiny sketch so that I don’t forget the idea. I don’t do any further sketching, but I’ll do some very crude Photoshopped collaging of elements - including photographs I’ve taken or found - leaving the details - like jewelry or hairstyles or backgrounds, which don’t exist in reality - for later. I then grid the image and transfer it to the panel, fully and carefully drawing out the image, designing the missing details as I go.
When the drawing is complete, I cover the panel with a bright yellow wash. This is to preserve the drawing for the painting process and also serves as an underpainting. I then paint “forward” from whatever part of the image is “farthest” away, working up each section to a finished state before moving on to whatever is next nearest to the picture plane. I use liquid acrylic paint, further thinned down, and build up my images in thin layers. It’s rather like the way glazing is done with oil paint. I think this is one of the reasons people often assume I work in oil.
Claimed, 8x8, acrylic on Ampersand Gessobord
Q: When audiences encounter your work, what do you hope they take away from the experience?
I make work that is very accessible visually. I want people to be able to see what the painting has to say - even when they interpret it completely differently than I might. Especially that, actually! I have little or no attachment to “message.” There is “story” in all my work, but I give very little thought to what it might actually be. I want the audience to do that work for themselves.
La Légèreté délicieuse de la grandeur, 24x18, acrylic on Ampersand Gessobord
Q: In April, you wrapped up your 30th anniversary exhibition. How are you reflecting on this milestone in your career, and what do you see as the next chapter for your work?
It still feels very unreal to me. Very unreal! I’ve never been terribly focused or ambitious in my career. I’ve mostly let galleries and opportunities find me rather than my seeking them out - so I’ve been very lucky! I don’t have any specific plans for the future, just to keep doing what I’m doing. I do want to work on larger pieces, though. My work is usually so small. And I’ve always been proudest of, gotten the most personal enjoyment from, my larger, more elaborate work. I want to go bigger!
Attend, 12x12, acrylic on Ampersand Gessobord
Q: How did you discover Ampersand, and what makes Gessobord your go-to surface?
I always framed my work up until 2009, and I usually found the process unsatisfying. Always difficult to find the “right” frame for a specific piece. And since my work is very straightforward, classical representation, I felt the frames sometimes made the paintings look “old-fashioned,” even kind of dowdy. But I went to a fellow artist’s show, and her paintings were on panels that were similar, though hand-made and a little rough, to the Gessobord ones. I thought that might be the right way for me to go, and I’ve never gone back! They bring much more of a modern edge to my work. Clean, no distractions. And the hard, smooth surface is perfect for the way I paint.
Photographer: Eric Patton
Artist Bio:
Stephen O’Donnell is a mid-career fine artist. Entirely self-taught, his paintings are notable for their explorations of gender, their explicit historicism, as well as for their humor. He is represented by galleries in Portland, Oregon and in Atlanta, and has been collected widely, in this country and in Europe. His work—both visual and literary—has appeared in the literary magazines/journals NAILED, Menacing Hedge, Buckman Journal, and Gertrude. His collection of short fiction, Half-Light, was published in June of 2023. He is married to writer and graphic designer Gigi Little. Their book, The Untold Gaze—a collection of Stephen’s paintings paired with short fiction by thirty-three authors—was published in 2018. They live in Portland, Oregon. To see more of Stephen's work, visit his website, Instagram, and Facebook.
