Juxtapoz Magazine

By Kristin Farr 

The great and powerful Oz was revered and feared, but secretly, a humble and quiet creator, empowering an alter-ego to express his emerald-hued, fiery feelings. Ana Benaroya’s fervent paintings are akin to the Wizard’s approach, but they speak for her rage as a female, which, considering global cultures and the perpetration of varying levels of violence, remains a second-class gender or worse. Power prevails in these paintings as they scream the anguish of perceived inferiority and fight for control over the body and its intentions. Identity is deeply embedded, and if the message sounds loud, such volume is necessary.

Kristin Farr: Do you focus more on action, emotion, gesture or color in your paintings? Or something else?

Ana Benaroya: All my paintings start with emotion and character. I think about what the person in my painting is feeling and how they are connecting with others in or outside the picture plane. Narrative is always present, but it’s usually loose. Emotion and human connection is really at the core of most of my work. Color comes in later, while I’m painting it. It’s something I can rarely plan. I need to respond to colors that are already on the painting. 

Let’s talk about your zine, Men Burning in Hell. It has a nice ring to it. That was published by Devin Troy Strother’s company? The title seems like a thread throughout all of your work: burning down the patriarchy. 

Yes! It was published by Coloured Publishing, which is run by Devin Troy Strother and Yuri Ogita. Devin asked me to make a zine, and I decided to do a series of drawings of men literally burning in hell. You could say that’s a consistent theme in my work, though recently my paintings have been focusing more on women. I have this intense burning anger inside of me that I’ve had ever since I was a little girl. Whenever I figured out women are essentially second class citizens, this fire started burning and it hasn’t been put out yet. Thankfully, I am able to channel it into something productive like art.

How did your style and interest in bodies and musculature develop? Start at the beginning—what did you draw as a kid? What were your favorite toys?

It started with looking at superhero comics and pictures of athletes. I collected action figures and sports cards. I’d copy from comics and pictures of athletes to make my drawings, and then eventually started copying from an anatomy book. I really identified with the muscular, masculine figure. I loved how big and powerful it was, how it moved through the world, and how people seemed to take that body seriously. I was a huge tomboy and always thought boys clothing felt right, and preferred action figures to Barbies and dolls. I was fixated on learning how to draw each and every muscle, to the point where I completely neglected drawing the female figure. 

I remember thinking, when I was younger, that I needed to make my drawings so nobody would guess a girl drew it. Obviously, I had internalized a lot of the terrible sexist things that women in our society deal with, and my solution was to just ignore and diminish anything I associated with the feminine. It wasn’t until later, in college, that I became conscious of what I was doing. I’m still working through some of these issues in my work now. 

How are body parts symbolic in the work? They seem to be independent and powerful. 

I do think that each and every body part of the figures in my paintings, from a strand of hair to a nipple, is operating independently. It’s as though each body part has its own brain and nervous system. Every part of the body is very much alive and active, at its most extreme moment, both physically and emotionally. I guess there’s part of me that wishes my body could do that. I always hope to have the body reflect and respond to the emotional life of the character. In the moment we see them in the painting, they are in their truest form, there is nothing hidden, and they have no regrets. 

Tell me about your titles and pop culture references. Do titles inspire paintings or vice versa? 

I almost always think of a title during or after I make a painting. It feels important to give the viewer a little context or hint, or sense of emotion through the title. It’s part of the piece for me. I have always liked writing short stories, so the title is like one sentence in the story of the painting. Either it’s fully written by me, or I pull a line from a song I’m listening to, or a poem I like. I like that if someone is interested, they could go and listen to the song or read the poem, and maybe gain even a little more insight into the painting. I think the titles also firmly place my paintings in the world of the poetic. Poetry and music encapsulate emotion so clearly without defining it… this is what I want my paintings to do.

What role does music play in your work?

I used to play piano and clarinet. I was in the concert band, the jazz band, and the marching band, so I have that connection, and I’ve always been into all sorts of music, from classical to jazz, rock from the ’50s and ’60s, to ’90s dance, hip hop, opera… even a little country sometimes. I’m always making playlists for people and for myself, and always listening while I paint. 

The new work I just finished for my solo show at Richard Heller is a series of paintings of an imaginary cafe where women come to meet, play and listen to music, smoke and dance. Music is what holds this show together. It’s this invisible yet palpable thing that runs through all the paintings and the space between them. Music relates to the idea of pure emotion without rationality getting in the way. Good music connects to your heart before your brain has a chance to catch up. That’s how I try to make my paintings.

When I was little, whenever I’d listen to a song, I’d imagine that I was the one singing it, performing in front of all my friends. Regardless of whether the singer was male or female, music would allow me to escape my body temporarily and live in this other imaginary world. I think my paintings serve a similar function for me.

What else do the paintings help you communicate that is difficult to talk about?

Just about everything! I’m a pretty quiet and sometimes shy person. My new year’s resolution is actually to say what’s on my mind more often. I pour a lot of my emotion and internal life into my paintings. My paintings are just as much me as I am me, if that makes any sense, even though my paintings and my outward personality appear to be opposites. 

Do you get into a hypnotic zone in the studio? The paintings seem so energetic, like they would be painted furiously to music, and you’re the conductor. 

Sometimes! That’s the best when that happens. I have moments of energetic painting and other moments of just sitting back and looking, trying to figure out what the next move is. I don’t agonize over paintings most of the time. I like to just keep moving, keep making another painting. Whatever I learn in one, I’ll bring to the next. I’m not much for endless revisions. I like imperfection in my paintings. 

What’s the last song you listened to on a loop?

Assurance by DaVido.

You seem really good at painting souls. That’s the best I can describe it. Do you think about revealing souls through art? The good and bad ones?

Wow, thank you. To me, that’s the highest compliment. I guess I never thought about it as souls before, but as I mentioned, I try to have each character in my paintings be revealed fully, in their truest form. Maybe that’s part of it. 

And even when I’m painting a figure with the aim to criticize something, it’s never from a place of negativity. I don’t think I ever paint a bad soul. There’s always joy, even within darker paintings.