From Francis Bacon’s chaotically smeary Dublin hovel to Georgia O’Keefe’s airy New Mexico retreat, the way that artists use, arrange, divide, and negotiate their studios is as individual as the work that emerges from these spaces. And it’s as often a practical consideration as an aesthetic preference.
San Antonio-based
Audrya Flores, artist and assembler of materials such as flowers, corn husks, and bay leaves, in addition to more traditional drawing and painting apparatuses, shares her home studio with her musician husband and the burgeoning creativity of a preteen son. The somewhat crowded conditions of this arrangement seep into Flores’ work in more ways than one. Additionally, Flores ties space explicitly to the emotions that she taps into to create often-ephemeral, always-impactful artworks. “The smaller my space gets the more interested I am in making large pieces,” she explains. “There’s something so intimate about sculpture. [The piece and I] can share space together in a way that I can’t with my other works,” but “It causes a lot of conflict for me storage-wise.”
We’re catching up with the artist during this moment of summer respite. In addition to investing in a storage unit to free up some physical space, (the bay leaves are “doing well in storage and smell amazing”) Flores is also using the blazing months to create mental and emotional room to maneuver. “I had a really busy winter and spring and I’m catching up on stuff around the house,” she says. This January and February saw Rattling, Flores’s stunning solo at Sala Diaz, and Play and Decay, an ephemeral installation sponsored by the San Antonio River Foundation this spring.
Rattling featured two of the artist’s animal sculptures, a roiling serpent (made from bay leaves) and a large owl (constructed from corn husks). The two iconic figures were offset by an intimate installation in the gallery’s tiny closet alluding to the third, unseen subject, the artist’s past self. In the tight space, Flores included items from her childhood and crammed oversized furniture into the nook, leaving the door slightly ajar as though her inner child was asking to be invited out into the wider gallery. The effect was striking, and a little bit spooky.
“I’m a big feeler,” Flores says. “I know that about myself.” Rattling illuminated Flores’ feelings about motherhood in relation to her own childhood, revealing monsters and beauty in equal parts. “Becoming a mother was incredible but it activated a lot of my wounds,” she explains. “It shines a light on areas that you don’t want to look at.” For Flores, artwork is a way of healthily exploring the pieces of the past that others would rather lock away. “He opened a portal back into me,” she says of her son’s birth.
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Audrya Flores, Soul Retrieval for Rattling at Sala Diaz, photo by Clint Datchuk
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Audrya Flores, Cord Cutting for Rattling at Sala Diaz, photo by Clint Datchuk
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Audrya Flores, Mid-Shapeshift I, 2024
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Audrya Flores, Mid-Shapeshift II, 2024
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Audrya Flores, Play and Decay at the Confluence for San Antonio River Foundation, photo by the artist
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Audrya Flores, Play and Decay at the Confluence (detail) for San Antonio River Foundation, photo by Ashley Mireles
The San Antonio River Foundation-sponsored
Play and Decay at Confluence Park, furthered Flores’s exploration of motifs and media, albeit in a slightly less autobiographical way. The artwork is described on the River Foundation site as “an organic assemblage depicting a giant flower-serpent. During late spring, when plant life is lush and temperatures are beginning to rise, this creature playfully coil[s] in full bloom on a hillside…” Constructed of flowers and leaves in a real-time memento mori, the artwork was left to return to the earth. Working outside, Flores felt a different kind of freedom, despite the heat and insects. “I felt like I knew what I was doing,” she says, “there was room for my big feelings. I fit outside.”
Currently, Flores is preparing for an autumn installation along similar themes of remembrance and impermanence. “I’m building the Día de los Muertos altar for Ruby City,” she says. The installation will exist for three days, and “they’re open to using organic materials.” Called Mourning Dove, the artwork will “have elements of traditional Día de los Muertos altar,” alongside natural elements designed to wilt and decay. “I wanted to create a space that was sacred and solemn, to create a place to feel all of the feelings,” she says. She is also in the planning stages of an exhibition titled Madre_Lands, curated by Bonnie Cisneros, which will open in 2025.
For now, there are no plans to move out of the home studio. “The benefits of working at home is that when the mood strikes it’s right there,” she laughs. “Luckily, I hop around between mediums. I can parcel up mediums and pack them away.” But the growth Flores is experiencing in terms of scale and project size may mean breaking out one day, and selfishly, we can all hope she keeps expanding her universe of feeling. Flores doesn’t rule it out as an option..” My art, work/life balance is all working for me,” she says. “I feel like I hit a gold vein and I’m going in the right direction.”
—CASEY GREGORY
