“One of the best compliments I ever heard about my work was, ‘I want to eat it. It looks like candy.’ To make someone want to eat a blood splatter is an accomplishment in my book.”
Romy Maloon
Romy is American born but her roots—and her shocking red hair—stem directly from South Africa. The bulk of her artistic influence is from stories her family has shared about their rocky transition from one continent to other just before her birth.
Romy Maloon: They left in 1986 right as apartheid was ending. It was before black Africans got the right to vote, but as they were slowly desegregating institutions. There had been (and still is) mounting violence as a result, so my parents thought it best to pick-up and emigrate. My dad was even in the South African army, as all white males of his generation were required to do. And he worked as a doctor in the Townships. I think it was almost an accident that they ended up in America; a lot of my relatives are in Australia and Canada.
They had heard and seen some American movies and music, even though they were censored or banned under apartheid, and they kind of bought into the “American Dream,” “streets are paved with gold” mentality. They moved to freezing Worchester, Massachusetts. They had never seen snow in their lives; I don’t think they knew what they were getting into. That’s why they moved to Atlanta. I glean a lot of my artistic influence from my family. I think most people experience a generational divide with their parents, especially if they are immigrants. I like to explore that space.
I saw a lot of African art growing up because my parents collect it, so I’ve always had a fascination with the way artifacts could be used to mimic nature. I take stock African and American kitsch images and change them to appear beautiful rather then disturbing.
Dash: You went to the Ringling College of Art and Design, did your schooling create the path in which you work now or did you find your voice independently?
RM: I loved living in a small town like Sarasota, especially since it’s right on the beach, but after graduating there’s just not much job opportunity, unless I wanted to paint kitschy beach paintings. Don’t get me wrong, I love kitsch, it’s definitely a huge influence on my work, but I needed more job security then that. Right now, I work as a party coordinator so, in addition to planning, I make invitations and center-pieces. It satisfies my need to mindlessly craft. I’ve actually started to see that influencing my work now: “center-piece aesthetic,” I call it. Usually a single object masked by some sort of surface cover: glitter, rhinestones, moss, whatever. It’s actually using all of the materials and decorative processes my thesis teacher would have hated in college. It’s kind of liberating to use gold leafing as a mindlessly decorative element as opposed to a comment on the nature of gold leaf itself.
Dash: Do you feel that you have ample opportunity in Atlanta as an artist?
RM: I think Atlanta allows me to have the big fish small pond thing. I lived in Brooklyn for a while. To show there, anywhere there, you had to be connected in some way. There was a lot of legwork that went into just showing. I work 9-5, so even though I’d like to, I don’t have a lot of time to make it to all of the art openings or gatherings in Atlanta I’d like to, but I still feel like I’m able to make connections, even through the Internet. That’s how I got a show at Beep Beep where ya’ll [Dashboard] saw my work.
Dash: I have seen some of you work and I find a reoccurring gun-theme. Why guns?
RM: The original catalyst was an interest in South African big game hunting. I have always had a fascination with taxidermy, especially exotic taxidermy. I remember when I was little one of my parents’ friends had antelope taxidermies and zebra skins; while most of my friends were made very uncomfortable by them, I was mesmerized. For a long time I actually avoided using guns in my work. I think they became a really over-used image in art and I didn’t want my work to be dismissed as trendy. But the more I studied African history, taxidermy and hunting, I realized I couldn’t avoid using such a powerful symbol.
Dash: Using straightforward symbolism can be dangerous. Do you find that people often misinterpret or over-interpret your work?
RM: I don’t really like work that tells you what to think—art that’s too political or has a very specific message to tell you. I think it becomes a one-liner. Why keep looking at something if you’ve already gotten everything from it? I like the dichotomy of how one person will look at my work and assume it’s an anti-hunting statement. Another person will look at my work and tell me they have been hunting since they were children and my work would look great hanging next to their actual taxidermies. One of the best compliments I ever heard about my work was that it was “very disturbing, but so pretty I want to eat it. It looks like candy.” To make someone want to eat a blood splatter is an accomplishment in my book.
