An Interview with Artist, Tanya Pshenychny

By Dan Bradley

 

Her works are a rose-colored glass, half-full of thorns.  She is a humanizer of animals and kind equalizer of celebrity; her paints are a sky full of elephants over a sea of singing fish.  Her art is her escape and ours.  Perhaps you saw yourself in it just now.  Tanya is worldly, keen with ink and watercolor, digs good music, and, oh — amazing to talk to. 

 

 

Literary Fever: First a couple of issue-related questions.  Does music play a part in your artistic process?

 
Tanya Pshenychny: Well, you know those annoying people who think they know every word to a song and are always singing along? I think I’m one of them. When I draw or paint, I have my mp3 player plugged into this portable speaker thing that my husband gave me 3 years ago. I can work in silence but I always start thinking about things that happen at my day job. I work at a portrait photography chain, and there are things about it I enjoy, but the negative parts outweigh the positive ones. Music has always helped me to cope, and tune out the negative aspects of my life.

 

 

LF: Did you have any particular song playing as you worked on “Aquapella” or “Pity Song”?

 
TP: “Aquapella” wasn’t really planned and was just created spur of the moment. I can’t even remember what was playing because it was just one of those things created in ‘the zone’. “Pity Song” incorporates the actual music notes of the music it was inspired by, “The Winter Allegro” by Antonio Vivaldi. The sound of it is like an emotional rollercoaster.

 

 

LF: If you put on music at the beginning of a piece, do you have to listen to that same song or album every time you pick it up?

 
TP: It’s happened before, but I try not to do that because then I get sick of hearing that song or album - and that feeling sucks. Lately I’ve had it on shuffle and have come across a bunch of songs I forgot I had, or didn’t even know I had.

 

 

LF: Is what you listen during the creative process the same as what you might put on otherwise?

 
TP: Definitely. I try to stay open-minded to new music and I like to dig to find new-to-me, older music. I love an interesting melody accompanied with a good beat, and the singing voice can make or break a song for me. I listen to a lot of classic rock, hard rock and alternative in general. But I also listen to certain classical music, hip-hop, pop and movie scores. I’m pretty sure I have one favorite song from each genre.

 

LF: You incorporate a lot of nature into your pieces. Do you have any favorite nature sounds?

 
TP: The sound of rain and thunder at night is nice; and crickets and cicadas in the summer.

 

 

Does your dog Misty like music?

 

 TP: You know, I’m not sure. She doesn’t howl unless I start trying to get her to. And I just conducted a test to see what happens if I sing to her; She just avoids eye contact with me. Haha.

 

 

 

 

 

LF: Humans and animals comingle in your work - often quite literally - with rare ease. You must feel a particular connection.

 TP:I think that even though we’re so different, we need and want a lot of the same things; and that’s why there are similarities in our behavior. But as humans, our lives are complicated with other details, and the main one seems to be money. Animals have their jungles. And we have ours. Think of gangs, or packs of wolves. Humans may team up and prey on the ones they believe are lesser. They’ll fight and kill each other. Just like a deer is nothing but a meal for a wolf. Or in a mating ritual, both types of creatures may have engaged in a funny dance - if it meant they could get laid.

 

 

LF: So as a human, are you un-complicating your mind through your work, or just furthering the damage?

 
TP: I like to think that it’s un-complicating it, but it has the potential for some damage. Dealing with art-related incidents is more fun.

 

 

LF: You do some very soulful celebrity illustrations, as well. Are celebrities inspiring in the same way as animals?

 
TP: People’s lives, in general, are inspiring. Celebrities are so idolized, or hated, and they’re just people - like everyone else. But for some reason, Britney’s latest breakdown is more interesting, or amusing, than my neighbor’s fight with her boyfriend. Do you know who my neighbor is? Probably not, and do you even care? But if Britney’s falling apart again, all cameras are on the scene.

 

LF: Your neighbor sounds interesting.  Do you do portraits too?

 
TP: I’d paint them if they’d let me. I do portraits, and people are my favorite subjects.

 

 

LF: Some of your stuff is filled with sky- clouds, birds and things that shouldn’t be there, like people and elephants. What, exactly, is out there?

 

TP: Everything and anything you want is out there. That’s what I love about drawing. Everything makes more sense on paper. If someone told you that they saw a flying elephant, you’d probably think this person is crazy. But “Stormpede” has a flying stampede of elephants, and no one thinks I’m crazy. Right?

 

 

LF: Right.  You’ve lived in Galesburg, IL and the Ukraine. Do you see elements of both in your work?

 
TP: I was raised for half my childhood in the capital of Ukraine and half in Galesburg, IL - it was very different. Kiev, Ukraine is a huge city of nearly 3 million people and I miss it. Thankfully, I still get to visit. Where I live now is a lot smaller, with a population of less than 50,000. I’m not sure if I would be the same person or if I would be drawing this way if I had never left Ukraine. I draw the way I do because of the events in my life, like being able to explore a new country at such a young age. Trying to fit into this new culture and stand out in a good way at the same time.

 

 

 

 

 

LF: Going from massive city to small town must have made you feel like a big fish in a small pond. Or, perhaps, suddenly disconnected?

 
TP: Even though I was only 9, I felt completely disconnected. I didn’t speak any English. I still long for the big city. Chicago is so close, yet so far away.

 

 

LF: What do you consider your artistic education

 
TP: I consider myself a self-taught artist but I learned a lot of things from my high school art teachers. I took every single art class that was available, like drawing, painting, ceramics, computer art, design, etc. The last possible class was portfolio preparation, and that’s where I learned to cut my own mats. I bought a compact mat cutter after graduating in 2003 that I still use today.

I didn’t have an option to go to college right after graduation, so all I could really do was keep drawing, learning on my own. Of course, there was the library, full of books on art and technique, but the thing that helped me the most was the Internet. I watched several artists develop their work, and learned from them. Some were self-taught as well, and that encouraged me. Even more, I wanted to create art - and try to do this for a living.

 

 

LF: How did you find your ink-and-watercolor medium? How much do you work in other mediums?

 
TP: Taking so many different art classes in high school, I got to play with lots of media and watercolor, and ink became my favorite. I remember specifically after completing a drawing assignment of jellybeans, the teacher and my classmates responded in a very positive way. Even said I had a knack for watercolor and ink. Of course, art teachers have to encourage their students, and they can’t tell them they suck (most of the time), but the way their voice sounded was different then.

I wish I did, but I don’t work in other mediums very often lately because there’s just no time between drawing in the medium everyone’s used to me using, then fixing frames and making mats for the work, and trying to promote it, etc. I paint a bowling pin with acrylics each year for the BBBS (Big Brothers Big Sisters) to be auctioned off. I also draw with pencil or ballpoint pen, but those end up just being sketches on loose paper or sketchbooks.

 

Your works tread a nice line between humor and melancholy (”Grab-A-Soul,” part of a collaboration you did for LitFev #2, is a good example)-even your website’s address (razorberries. com) conveys that tasty things can be hard to swallow. It makes me think you wouldn’t fall under the cup-is-half-full or the cup-is-half-empty category. It makes me think you’re more a stick-a-flower-in-the-one-that’s-cracked type. This stopped being a question long ago, but is this a type?

TP: I think that’s the best observation I’ve ever heard. I really can’t decide for sure whether that cup is half-full or half-empty. Sometimes I’m very sensitive and can get hurt easily; other times I want to give the benefit of the doubt and just laugh it off. But if I’m hurt, I hate showing it. I just let people read between the lines if they want to. Then maybe even secretly incorporate that into an illustration to make myself feel better - but I’ll never admit it!
 

 

LF: My painter-girlfriend wants me to ask if you work mistakes into your pieces. From a musician’s perspective, art can be like jamming: you flow with what comes, and you run. But many might think that painting begins with a clear vision and is copied down directly from the brain. Do you ever really have a plan?

 
TP: You’re right. Most of my illustrations didn’t start with a clear vision. I would just start drawing with a pencil on watercolor paper, starting with some light lines to show movement, then erase some, then lightly build an idea, erase some more, and so on. I go until I’m satisfied and have a clean sketch. So most things just started right there. Plenty of mistakes are made during painting and inking. I can’t lie about that. If it’s pretty minor and doesn’t take away from the image, I let it be. But if it’s pretty noticeable and I can help it, I will turn it into something else. It’s a good thing I’m human, and mistakes are allowed. 

 

 

LF: Everybody here is human.  So - are you dismayed, encouraged, or something else entirely by the state of the human animal and its situation on planet Earth today? 

 
I think I’m a bit worried about the human animal. If we don’t take care of our planet, our end is out there. And just like the human body can heal a wound over time, so can our planet. Natural disasters do a good and fast job of reverting a place back to the kind of jungle that came first.