MORIAH FAITH
Moriah Faith (she/her) is an expressive figurative painter from Black Forest, Colorado currently working in Boston, MA. Moriah received her BFA in Fine Arts from Lesley University in May 2020, and received the award for best in 2D upon graduation. She has shown both nationally and internationally, with a most recent accomplishment being the 2nd Place prize for representational excellence in the Federation of Canadian Artist’s AIRE exhibition.
I started painting seriously after I was diagnosed with a painful chronic illness at the age of thirteen. Much of my work is autobiographical and I use myself as a model to explore the woman’s gaze at herself. My paintings embody moody psychological mindsets through the use of thick oil paint, heightened color, and attention to depicting and abstracting flesh.
-
I’m captivated by the aesthetics of the body: how flesh folds and glows in the sunlight, the way skin blossoms with color when exposed to trauma, the silent history told through scaring and stretchmarks. My paintings, however, focus more on what lies beneath the surface, exploring the experience of being inescapably bound to a body that hurts.
At the age of twelve, I started experiencing debilitating pain episodes that often left me bedbound. Before graduating high school, I underwent 25+ hospitalizations and procedures attempting to correct the problem, with no relief. I was left to mourn the death of the healthy and vibrant person I used to be and could no longer recognize the stranger staring back at me in the mirror.
It was in this period of mourning that I began painting, and never stopped. I work in a very physical way – throwing, globbing, scrapping, brushing, and dripping paint onto canvas until bodies begin to emerge that feel vulnerable, raw, and damaged. The figures lay somewhere outside of reality, between evaporating and materializing, reflecting my own struggle with body dysmorphia. Through this, I have painted my invisible illnesses into striking visibility. Most of my life I have spent fighting between the desire to disintegrate into nothing, while wanting to create and be seen. I have taken moments when I wanted to be small, and I have made them large, celebrating the body in all its discomfort.
How did your relationship with art and artistic expression begin?
I’ve drawn since I was a kid, but it wasn’t until I began experiencing debilitating pain episodes at the age of twelve that I began taking art seriously. I clung to art as a coping mechanism after being diagnosed.
What kind of process went into organizing the works you submitted to “THESE, OUR BODIES”? What were some of your biggest considerations with this project?
The paintings included in “These, Our Bodies,” are inspired by the intensity of appearingly mundane experiences since developing an “invisible” disability. It is something I’ve never been able to put into words, so I wanted to figure out how to articulate it through paint.
After the initial idea has developed, I take many reference photos using myself as a model. Often working from multiple photos, I choose poses that capture some type of energy, and then I lay out the composition on canvas. Once I know where my main image anchor points are, the first layers of paint are loose with expressive mark making, while planning for future layers. As the layers build, figures begin to emerge that feel vulnerable, simultaneously fleeting, but present.
How has your work evolved since you began painting?
My technical skills have certainly evolved since I began painting, but beyond that, my gaze and attention have shifted from an outward direction, more inward. At first, my paintings focused on capturing the beauty I saw in everyone else. However, I yearned to go deeper than the surface of the skin, exploring psychology, trauma, and memories. In order to tackle this, I knew my own experiences are the ones I truly understand. Realizing I had no business telling someone else’s story, I needed to tell mine. It was when I confronted my own reflection and started working from myself as a model that my art took on a life of its own, with brutal vulnerability.
In your artist statement, you wrote how these pieces explore “the experience of being inescapably bound to a body that hurts” and “celebrating the body in all its discomfort.” Could you expand on this? Why is this important?
This is extremely important for me because growing in the medical system, it was constantly reiterated that I was broken. I had over twenty procedures before graduating high school in an attempt to correct the problem, but ultimately was labeled a hopeless case. I felt like a burden and hated my body for everything that it wasn’t for many years. Unfortunately, this isn’t a new story. Disabled people have long been seen by society as defective, and this often affects a person's mental health. However, as I've matured, I’ve realized I’m not broken.. Yes I am sick, but sickness is not brokenness. It’s strength. I will never be “healthy,” so my paintings have given me space to accept and honor my body in this moment, for everything that it is. Despite its limitations, it has carried me through all of my worst days, and that is extremely powerful.
If you had to sum up a message/lesson behind your recent work in one sentence, what would it be?
No matter what type of trauma, physical, or mental ailments you may be going through, you are perfectly made and you deserve to take up space.
What is “ART” to you?
Art is painting. Art is laughter. Art is protest. Art is making love. Art is communication. Art is emotional.
What has been the most challenging part of your journey as an artist? And what has been the most rewarding?
The most challenging part of being an artist for me has been managing my physical and mental health conditions, while at the same time maintaining professionalism, organization, marketing, and communication, while simultaneously working full time in the studio on top of my part time job. Some days it feels impossible, and often the financial insecurity is an added pressure.
Most rewarding for me is when other people reach out and tell me that my work has touched them in some way. The fact my work can deeply impact someone, without me needing to be in the same room as them, is almost magical. To make someone feel something. It takes a tiny bit of weight off the viewer when they see something that lets them know they are not alone in how they feel.
What is one piece of advice you would give to an aspiring artist?
This career path is not for the faint of heart, it's extremely difficult. To make money, I hear people suggest making art that is marketable. But realistically, making art for someone else will never sustain your artistic attention long term. You inevitably get burnt out. Longevity is one of the most important and difficult things about having a career in the arts. If you are going to devote your whole life to this, create something that matters to you. Make work that comes from the heart.
What are three things that you would want the BAC community to know about you?
Outside of the studio, I love heavy metal music, so you might catch me out at local concerts. I work daily as an art facilitator for people with disabilities and am extremely passionate about passing on my love of art. Although only 24, I have been a vegetarian for over a decade and love animals.
What is next for you? Where can people find you?
Currently, you can find my work at the Brookline Arts Center Beacon Street Art Gallery. I’m finishing up a large body of work and that will be shown at Lab Central in June. To stay updated on all of my shows and new work, you can check out my website, www.moriahfaith.com, follow me on instagram at @breathe.art, or on Facebook at Moriah Faith Fine Art.
