"I don't know what a successful art career is, other than you keep doing it."
The raw materials of success, somatic healing, and artistic sensibility with visual artist Amanda Wagstaff
I was content and leaning into friendships, family, and community. In a way, that … is the biggest influence on my work. I’m not participating in any contemporary discourse. Or, I don’t think I am? I’ve been out of the loop for a while. I’ve just done my best to live and maintain my art practice. I don’t know what a successful art career is, other than that you keep doing it. — Amanda Wagstaff
Cameron Steele: One of my favorite things about you is how grounded I feel when I’m in your presence—and yet part of this is because you’ve got this solidity that seems to have been built over the course of being willing to go on very many journeys. Artistic, educational, spiritual, actual travel. You began—and correct me if I’m wrong—as a painter, but now so much of your art centers on found fabrics and imperfect textiles. Stunning quilts, blankets, a fabric tarot board in one of your recent art shows. Could you describe how you’ve gotten to this point as an artist and maker?
Amanda Wagstaff: I did start out as a painter. I specifically studied observational or perceptual painting in college, and even though I don’t paint anymore, that time was hugely influential, and is definitely part of how I am in the world now. I grew up in rural southern Virginia and was a creative kid, but never took any art classes before going to college. I used to think that my rural upbringing put me at a disadvantage, but I don’t see it that way anymore. I was definitely behind my peers in some ways, but now I’m grateful for the relative isolation I had as a teen.
I had a deep, but unacknowledged desire to be an artist, but didn’t think it was possible, so I studied Art History. Fortunately, taking intro art classes was a requirement for AH majors. I was so dedicated to the art classes, that in a meeting with my advisor she cut me off and said, “Why don’t you just major in Art?” I was stunned. I just couldn’t see that as a possibility until she gave me permission.
That is a pattern in my life. I secretly desire certain things, but don’t allow myself to pursue them until someone or some opportunity gives me permission. Going to Ireland for the first time was like that – one of my undergrad professors paved the way for me. That experience indirectly led to grad school and then I returned to Ireland on a Fulbright scholarship. It’s all been very circuitous. I’ve worked hard, but lots of people supported me along the way.
I can list off the stereotypical career markers: I went to school, did an artist residency, went to grad school, did another residency, had a show here, sold some work there…but in between all those things, my life was happening. Relationships started and ended; I moved several times and ultimately ended up in Charlottesville; I bounced between part-time and full-time jobs trying to make enough money. Sometimes, I was stressed, depressed, and anxious. And also, I was content and leaning into friendships, family, and community. In a way, that’s more important and is the biggest influence on my work. I’m not participating in any contemporary discourse. Or, I don’t think I am? I’ve been out of the loop for a while. I’ve just done my best to live and maintain my art practice. I don’t know what a successful art career is, other than that you keep doing it. I haven’t had the same kind of success as other artists, and yet I can’t do this any other way.
CS: Being your friend has really helped me re-encounter and reconsider “success” as something that’s earthy, ethereal, slant—maybe something about an uncommon synergy between a certain moment, certain people, certain landscapes, and certain creative desires realized or attempted. I think of driving to your Orange County art show under the full moon eclipse last October, with my husband Kiernan and my kid falling asleep in his carseat. The moon, your art, the whole evening brushed up against the bitter, resentful part of my personality like the ghost hairs of a last peach of the season, or the painting of a good dream that I revisit during meditations on hard days. I remember being in awe of the beautiful work you and Kiernan had installed for this small-town gallery, how your quilts and Kiernan’s photographs really inspired a shift, a softening in the tone and voice of the essays I wrote over the next few months.
I don’t think y’all earned much from that show, by way of money or recognition, but there was a deep core of both timelessness and momentary peculiarity that I think is missing from a lot of celebrated art these days. Whew, it’s been great to be adjacent to your work! What’s a favorite piece you’ve made recently? What did you love about the process; what was difficult?
AW: Well, I haven’t been making very much in the studio lately, but my favorite recent work is ‘Cloud Baby.’ The last two years, a lot of the imagery in my quilts was made by piecing shapes together, and the hand quilting/stitching was a more subtle element. But in the early Spring I had this desire to simplify my quilt tops and emphasize the stitching.
“Whole cloth” quilts are traditionally a single color/single piece of fabric and the imagery is made with the quilt stitching. Usually really ornate stitching patterns. I nearly always use salvaged fabrics, so my “whole cloth” is a patchwork of similar scraps with a “cloud” stitching pattern. I wanted a little meditation project, and stitching is that for me. I could quilt for hours (and I do.) There was honestly nothing difficult about it—I loved making it. And now it belongs to a new baby! I don’t know that baby’s name, but I hope they enjoy rolling around on those clouds.
CS: I love the relationship you set up between meditation and stitching here; it reminds me of how “weaving” has been referenced in myths throughout the centuries as a metaphor for storytelling or understanding the relationship between chance and fate, serendipity and narrative.
You and I met in this really serendipitous way! You knew my husband first—you both did your BFAs at William & Mary. When my family and I were about to move back to Virginia, Kiernan mentioned that he’d reached out to you and hoped we’d all be able to hang out together. I think he had plans to make that happen, but right after we moved, my cancer came back and things got crazy. I knew I wanted herbal support if I was going to have to go through chemo, and I found the Elderberry Apothecary on Google, I think. When I called the shop, there was this kind voice on the other end of the line, and I can’t remember how it happened, but we eventually connected the dots and realized who the other person was. I remember feeling really spookily grateful that this artist person that Kiernan spoke so highly of was the one who opened the door for me to herbalism in general and the Elderberry specifically. Have you always been interested in so-called “alternative” healing modalities? How does your work with herbs, the land, somatics intersect with your identity as an artist?
“After learning about somatic therapies, I understand my artistic sensibility in a different way, especially in my transition from painting to sewing. I didn’t know 10 years ago why I needed to get rid of the [paint] brush and touch color and material directly with my hands. Now, I know my hands are sense organs that pick up and transmit so much information.” — Amanda Wagstaff
AW: I’ve always been very aware of my body and very sensitive to how I feel physically. If I feel sick or have pain, I like to tend to myself. I started seriously studying herbalism about five years ago, but now I can look back and see these consistent threads coming together. I grew up on a farm and felt a strong connection to the land there. My parents gave me a lot of freedom, and I wandered around a lot, particularly in this little patch of trees and shrubs by the creek at the edge of the farm. It was fenced off to keep the cows out, so it was untouched for a long time. As a kid, it was a magical place to me. Now, I go back and I’ve learned the names of so many of the plants: massive beech trees, may apple, wild ginger, wild yam… I didn’t know the plants back then, but I could tell that they were special.
Then a few years ago I started a working as an office assistant for a local body worker/teacher. She’s an elder and longtime healer in this community and is dedicated to supporting the next generation. I was just looking for part time work, but I have personally benefited so much from being around her teaching. Again, I can look back and see threads coming together. After learning about somatic therapies, I understand my artistic sensibility in a different way, especially in my transition from painting to sewing. I didn’t know 10 years ago why I needed to get rid of the [paint] brush and touch color and material directly with my hands. Now, I know my hands are sense organs that pick up and transmit so much information. And that is absolutely my art practice. Before, it was a bit unconscious. Now, I trust the intuitive decision-making that happens in the studio.
I often joke with people that my methods are ‘quick and dirty’ and I don’t plan my projects out ahead of time. I rip fabrics instead of cutting, my stitches are uneven, my piecing isn’t squared up … that’s me being a little self-deprecating and denying my own craftsmanship. The truth is, I am skilled and every aesthetic decision is intentional. I have a deep appreciation of my raw materials, and I refuse to force soft fabric into rigid forms. Characteristics that some might read as wrong, lazy, or damaged are beautiful, interesting, and meaningful to me.
I recognize connections between my art education and the things I’m learning about plant medicine and somatics. Maybe it’s obvious in some of my recent work? But I think it’s happening more behind the scenes, in how I observe, experience, and interpret the world around me.
CS: We’ve had conversations over the past year or so about the grind of making ends meet, and the weird way hustle culture is inflected by fun and excitement when the gigs you’re working (or are trading services for) are actually aligned with what interests or moves you about the world. There’s also this whole other side to living an intellectual or artistic life outside of the bounds of grad school or “more proper” artistic and literary circles. And yet. It’s sometimes exhausting. The bills come due.
During the Halloween opening for the art show I mentioned above, you joked—but were also serious about—reclaiming the idea of “stealth wealth” to mean “creeping up on wealth” rather than a rich lady’s bland boudoir. How’s the grind treating you these days? How does money figure into your life as an artist, your desires for yourself in the future?
AW: I am grinding but not that stressed out. To be clear, I do get stressed these days, but I always compare it to a time when I had a 9-5 job and constant high anxiety, insomnia, and dread. I currently have three regular part time jobs that help me pay the bills, and I’m grateful whenever my art practice gives me a little extra infusion of cash. My current schedule is hectic, and my income is modest, but my mental health is still not as bad as “that other time.”
Money is a big focus for me right now. The first few months of the year, I was buckling down, being frugal, setting myself up for modest bit of security (stealth wealth, baby) and then in the last few weeks, I had some big bills—estimated taxes (ugh, self-employment) unplanned doctor visits, and car repairs. It’s funny, because my attitude in 2024 so far has been very hopeful and happy. It’s a bit of a lesson on abundance. Things have to keep moving. For me, it’s been happiness flowing in and cash flowing out!
I want to make more money, and I also want to protect my health. My stealth wealth strategy is to keep my head down, keep working, try to be frugal, and invest in relationships for future security.
CS: What do you feel most hopeful about? I feel like I am always begging other Sag risings (who also have the grounding realism of Saturn in Sag in the First) to answer this question.
AW: The future is always uncertain and there is so much to grieve right now in the present. Despite everything, I feel hopeful about my life here in central Virginia in the short term and that’s good enough for right now. In January, I moved in with my partner and we’ve decided to get married next year on the Summer Solstice. It’s a hopeful decision and a gesture of faith in the future. I was dead serious earlier when I said, “investing in relationships for future security.” I am so grateful for my web of friends, family, teachers, and community.
CS: OK, well!! First of all, I didn’t know when you and Nat invited us to this weekend’s Solstice Party we’d also be celebrating and dreaming up A WEDDING for ya’ll next year. This is the best news I’ve heard all week, and I love that I get to shout about it on my newsletter, lol. Look, here we are creating our own little Albemarle County Page Six hahaha. Now, what is the future Solstice bride reading these days?
AW: I read in fits and starts, but most recently I picked up Wolf-Dieter Storl’s Healing Lyme Disease Naturally. It’s a hand-me-down that’s been on my shelf for a while, but I recently had a Lyme scare and decided to read it. I don’t know anything about Storl, but I can tell that this book and his work would probably invite some criticism. I don’t want to argue for or against him, but I think it’s interesting that he is analyzing disease as an anthropologist. I know lots of people, myself included, who’ve had some really discouraging experiences with our contemporary medical system. I think there’s a lot of wisdom in traditional healing practices that can benefit us.
CS: I absolutely agree. If people are interested in commissioning a quilt or other project with you, how can they get in touch?
AW: The best way to check out my quilt work is through my website, where there is a contact form if people want to get in touch. I also keep my Instagram up to date @awwags. I am happy to talk about commissions and do have a couple of things for sale right now. I am particularly keen to make quilts for babies and children, and I’m happy to do payment plans to make it more affordable. I also like to encourage people to crowd source quilts!
I have a deep appreciation of my raw materials, and I refuse to force soft fabric into rigid forms. Characteristics that some might read as wrong, lazy, or damaged are beautiful, interesting, and meaningful to me. — Amanda Wagstaff
I’ll be enjoying a potluck celebration with Amanda and friends in her garden for the Summer Solstice. Do you have Solstice plans or rituals today or over the weekend? Enjoy the longest, brightest, “most hopeful” day of the year, and thank you for your readership and support!
Check out the other interviews in this series:
“Taking in all that plants contain” with clinical herbalist Meg Madden
“It might be all you ever need” with writer and life coach Max Daniels
“Unwrap the metaphor like a gift” with poet-astrologer, filmmaker Oscar Moises Diaz
Magic as survival mechanism with occultist Travis Black
Full Circle: On eclipses, motherhood and art with artist Emily LaCour
“The act of conversation feels like a rebellion” with Art of the Zodiac’s C.V. Henriette
“Unhealthy introspection” withThe Lit Listwriter Steph Halchin
Fool’s World: tarot, academia, and “free time” with scholar-artist Dillon Rockrohr
On the Ten of Wands and the Four of Cups with tarot reader Jenny Forbes