The Healing Canvas: a’driane nieves on art, identity, and emotional connection

a’driane nieves is a multidisciplinary artist whose work bridges creativity and healing, abstraction and emotional resonance. Known for her evocative paintings and commitment to exploring identity, trauma, and transformation, nieves offers a deeply personal glimpse into her artistic journey.

Currently, her artwork ‘and yet in spite of the current circumstances, i'm tethered to the hope that the liberated futures we can see, feel, and taste on our tongues are closer than they've ever been’ is exhibited at the Nordic Knots New York flagship.

nieves’ story reveals the profound power of art as a means of self-expression and connection. Drawing influence from iconic figures like Joan Mitchell, Cy Twombly, and Alma Thomas, her work invites viewers to engage with their own emotional landscapes. In this Q&A, nieves delves into her creative process, the impact of physical movement and music on her art, and her hopes for what viewers take away from her explorations of identity and healing.

What drove you to become an artist?

I’ve always been a creative person. Creative expression throughout my life has taken many forms and has always felt like a way to channel and express myself most authentically. Growing up, writing and performance based arts (theater, dance, oration) were my primary mediums, but I was terrible at things like drawing, sculpting and painting. I’m definitely still terrible at drawing, but I’d like to believe I’ve become far better at painting over the last 15 years (laugh).

How did painting as therapy help you during your recovery? How did it evolve into a full art practice?

Initially, painting became a way for me to regulate and release the intensity of my symptoms and shifts in mood while recovering from postpartum depression and then being diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I started experimenting with paint as a form of therapeutic intervention. Over time, however, it has become another channel for my creative voice to express itself, and to communicate my reflections and life experiences through, just like writing and performance. Once painting began to feel as necessary and natural as writing, I knew it was what I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing. It became more than just a hobby or therapeutic outlet and I started devoting myself to it in full, just as I’d done with writing. When I made the decision to pursue it as a second career, I didn’t really know at the time what that meant or would look like, truly. I just knew I wanted to make art and share it with others in some capacity. My ultimate goal is to still be making art at 80, 90…100 if I’m lucky.

Your work is influenced by artists like Joan Mitchell, Cy Twombly, Alma Thomas, and Mary Lovelace O’Neal. How have these artists shaped your approach to abstraction and expressionism?

I think this is a bit difficult to summarize succinctly, but in short, from each of these artists (and many others including Bernice Bing, Sylvia Snowden, Mildred Thompson, Sharon Barnes & June Edmonds), I’ve learned quite a bit about expansiveness and freedom; not limiting myself to just one style, palette, or even subject matter. Also scale- I remember seeing works by Mitchell, Lovelace O’Neal, and Twombly in person for the first time and just having this sense of being engulfed by each—both physically and emotionally—as if I had stepped through a portal. My sense of space and center of gravity shifted and I loved that sensation. I also love what seeing their works up close does to my body, the somatic responses I experience and the conversation my nervous system has when standing in front of their paintings. In many ways, these are among the things I hope people are able to experience when standing in front of my own pieces.

Is there a piece of art that has been especially meaningful in your journey?

There have been quite a few, but…Right before I started painting (around age 27), I remember standing in front of different works by Makoto Fujimura and experiencing very intense, somatic reactions to them, which was a first for me and something I only previously experienced with music. Before this, I hadn’t really experienced being moved or emotionally wrecked by a piece of visual art, or feeling such a personal connection to it. So it was a pretty jarring, transformative experience. It changed everything I thought about what paintings and visual art can accomplish in terms of a viewer’s personal experience in general. Other works that have had a similar effect on me include paintings by Mary Lovelace O’Neal, Twombly’s Fifty Days at Illiam series, and sculptures by Barbara Chase-Riboud.

Can you describe how physical movement and music influence your creative process?

As my practice has evolved over the years, movement has become an integral part of my process. My earlier experiences with theater and dance are quite useful in the studio. My process is very physical; painting tends to be a whole body experience for me. Even when my ability to move is limited due to flare ups of my autoimmune illnesses, or the arthritis in my hands makes them painful and stiff, I still work to find a way to physically connect with the canvas. Sometimes all I can do is press my body into it; other times I’m gliding my hands and arms across the full breadth of the canvas before I even make a mark with graphite, lead or paint. The movement helps me channel the energy I need to actually paint, especially when the canvas is large. Sensory wise, movement assists with the proprioceptive input my body needs to understand how to work with the canvas’ size. It also helps with my spatial awareness, so I’m better able to intuitively sense where to start and end a mark, and how to actually build the composition. Relying on my body and its movement enables me to stay in the flow and out of my head; once I start thinking too much about what I’m doing with a piece while it’s in process or trying to make sense of where it’s taking me or what’s surfacing, then I know I need to stop. When I’m painting, intuition and feeling lead; thinking and rationale come after the work is finished. Movement is also how my body processes different kinds of information and my emotions constructively. Music in general helps me to connect to memories and experiences from the past and the emotions associated with them. Music and movement in the studio  facilitate release and me being unrestrained in my approach.

What do you hope viewers experience when they see your exploration of trauma and identity?

Over the years, the subject matter in my work has expanded beyond how trauma shapes identity and our sense of self over time to include how other factors & experiences such as neurodivergence, perimenopause, chronic illness, isolation & loss, and the pandemic our identities and drive our behaviors as well. But that’s all pretty cerebral; more than anything, I hope people experience a new type of connection to and engagement with their own emotional intelligence. Ultimately, my works are prayers, and if the work does nothing else, I pray it assists people in being able to fully feel, confront, and sit with their feelings and that doing so leads to some level of healing, restoration, and transformation within their own lives, wherever they need or desire it most.