This month we announce our FIRST in PERSON “Artist Spotlight” with Benji Peck.
RSVP NOW- 6.24.21 | 7-10pm - www.thinkingfeelings.com/rsvp
At SAINT ELLE we have always been inspired by the creative spirit that defines Nashville and are excited to host this evening of art & community. Benji has built a reputation with his Brand Identity Design Company, Peck Design Associates (aka PDA), as a premium creative house whose versatility is sought after from curated boutique hotels and architecture firms to CBD and cold sweet treats. We collaborated with PDA on our vision for SAINT ELLE, and found we shared a harmonious “creative spirit”. The timeless, beautiful branding that evolved is one we feel is truly unique and continues to inspire our venue every day.
We are beyond excited to host his latest series of paintings, THINKING FEELINGS for *ONE NIGHT ONLY* on 6.24.21 from 7-10pm. Complimentary wine and hors d’oeuvres, as well as Full Service Cash Bar make this a night in Nashville you won’t want to miss.
Featured Artist - Benji Peck - painter / photographer / creative director + designer at PDA.
RSVP today! www.thinkingfeelings.com
Read more about Benji and the show in our interview below.
Tell us a little bit about your background and how you got into art?
I’ve loved drawing and really doing any kind of art for as long as I can remember. I remember sitting in The Kettle with my mom and grandparents and drawing Garfield in a leisure jacket holding a martini over and over again. I can still draw it from memory.
I got my BFA from Oklahoma Christian University in Graphic Design and Illustration. But throughout school and afterwards, I never stopped painting. I showed a few times out of school in Oklahoma, but don’t think I had really found my voice yet. Particularly in relation to abstracts.
In graphic design the output—even when gestural—is controlled. It’s often as much a process of restraint as expression. So early on I struggled to let myself explore the freedom of expression that abstracts allowed. But with time I began to use painting as a way to process my experiences and emotions. It became an outlet and as such, I learned to stop over analyzing it in the moment. There’s always time to take a more critical look at the work, but that beginning process must be a more fluid “letting go” of control. Reacting to the piece itself as it happens.
How do you approach starting a new piece?
I always stretch my canvases just before I begin painting. It’s imperative to the process for me. The raw materiality of unprimed canvas or linen vs primed canvas or wood directly influence what the piece will become. Handling the canvas, stretching, stapling, folding the corners, etc. acts as a way of getting-to-know the materials, paying respect to them, understanding their durability, and considering how paint or graphite or oil pastels will interact with them. I try to stay open to what the piece will be through this process, so that I am allowing room for the materials themselves to reveal what they are capable of becoming.
Painting is like meditation in that way. You have to be intentional about it, you have to choose to do sit with it, and make space for the possibility. And when I stretch a canvas, the process is my intentional act of creating. I’m literally making space for some expression. While I sometimes do have an idea of what I am going to create, I do my best not to go in with assumptions or concrete ideas, but openness.
Where did you draw inspiration for these specific pieces / series?
In Art History, I read about a 14th Century Florentine painter named Giotto, whose mastery had become well-known around Italy, and eventually caught the attention of the Pope. The Pope sent a messenger to Giotto to request some sample works for his consideration. Giotto took out his brush and painted a “perfect” circle on a canvas and told the messenger to take it back to the Pope as his submission. The messenger was befuddled, but the Pope ultimately saw the genius in it.
This story stuck with me for many reasons. The brazenness, a bit of a thumbing of the nose to authority, and this concept of perfecting the simple.
Furthermore, there are no perfect circles in nature. There are no perfectly straight lines in nature. They exist only in math and in our imaginations. Yet we see them, and we recognize them. That fascinates me: that something we have never truly seen before, whose existence we also have never questioned, and yet deep down, we all know what a circle is. It’s as if the circle beckons us from another dimension, connecting us to it.
I love that there are solutions that exist inside our understanding of them, yet remain outside of our comprehension. And I love most of all when math, nature, and human behavior overlap. It a beautiful chaos that, if we sit with it long enough, we can begin to see there is still order in all of it.
And herein lies the rub, we are constantly trying to get better, trying to improve ourselves, to become as close to perfect as possible, yet knowing we can never truly attain it. To take that one step further, I’m not so sure that we don’t actually despise true perfection when presented with it. We seem to always be drawn to the humanity and realness of the imperfect.
This series is a representation of that process for me. Of striving and failing. Of hope and disappointment, of permanence and impermanence. I often feel I am of two minds. I desire to see all sides of all problems to find the best possible solution—the perfect solution. What often results is a spiraling process of overthinking and, on occasion, a sense of paralysis.
How does where you live affect the outcome of your work?
That’s interesting to consider. I think people have very different relationships to where they live, be it the city they live in, the house they live in, or the state of their mental health. To live in any physical location is to first inhabit ourselves (our own skin if you will) and I believe our life experiences strongly influence our relationship with the spaces we inhabit. I was displaced a few times throughout the creation of this series, and I can see in each painting what place I was in, or rather my state of mind. Some of the paintings feel groundless and unsettled, a sort of floating abstraction, while others belie a sense of deep introspection from a place of acceptance and belonging.
Do you listen to anything specific when you are working?
Yes, though it changes depending on what frame of mind I am in and what I am creating. Music has always been something of a safe place for me to get lost in. Even in the darkness of being unsettled, or in the murk of ambiguity. Painting is a wonderful world to get lost in, especially with a great soundtrack.
It’s also remarkable to me how our senses lock in a memory so vividly. There are certain songs that take me directly to a place and time, the painting I was working on, and the conflict that I was wrestling with at that moment. It can be beautiful and painful and cathartic all at once, to listen to those songs and let my mind take me back there.
What is something about this work that someone might not pick up on immediately?
In an effort not to overprescribe what the work should/shouldn’t communicate, I will stick with the process for this answer. I often paint the backs of the paintings first. Raw canvas has an unforgiving memory. That’s one of the beauties of working with it. It forces you into the present, forces you to be intentional with every gesture, every line, every scrape, because you often cannot cover it up. Painting the backs of the painting affects how the canvas will accept the paint when you apply it to the front surface. This process became synonymous with the theme itself as it relates to our internal dialogue, and how that dialogue ultimately affects our decision-making process and later our feelings about the decisions we make.
Learn more about this SERIES and the SHOW at www.thinkingfeelings.com