"I reject the idea of ‘realizing’ you’re an artist, as if it’s a genetic mutation. For me, it was a survival tactic. I was a terribly shy kid. I stuttered. In third grade, I drew a horse for a girl across the aisle because I couldn’t figure out how to say ‘hello.’ She smiled. That was it. I realized that images could bridge places where words collapsed. I never wanted to stop being that bridge."
One painting, "The Last Payphone on Route 66," sold at Sotheby’s for a figure that made Zlota visibly uncomfortable to discuss.
“Sorry for the mess,” she said, clearing a pile of sketchbooks from a wooden stool. “I always tell my gallerist that a clean studio is a sign of a sterile imagination.” olivia zlota interview
Last question. If your paintings could speak directly to the person reading this interview, what would they say?
"The market is a ghost. A useful ghost, because it pays the rent on this studio, but a ghost nonetheless. I hit a wall in 2024. I had three shows booked in one year. I wasn’t sleeping. I found myself painting the same chair over and over because I was too tired to paint a person. That’s when I knew I had to burn the calendar." "I reject the idea of ‘realizing’ you’re an
This honesty is refreshing. In an era of digital art and NFTs, Zlota remains a fierce defender of the physical. She admits to owning a smartphone "only under duress" and keeps a flip phone for calls. "The algorithm wants you to scroll past pain quickly," she says. "I want you to stand in front of a canvas until your feet hurt." No Olivia Zlota interview would be complete without discussing her breakout series, The Orphan Cycle (2022-2023). The series, a collection of 14 massive canvases depicting solitary figures in liminal spaces (bus stations, motel lobbies, laundromats at 2 AM), catapulted her into the global spotlight.
She points to a recent, unfinished piece in the corner. It shows a young girl standing in a flooded living room, holding a record player above her head like an offering. I stuttered
"Go outside. I’m serious. Put down the tablet. Delete Pinterest mood boards for five hours. Go sit in a bus depot. Go to the dump. Touch a rock that is wet from rain. Drawing from life is political protest now. Because the entire digital economy wants you to believe that reality is inferior to simulation. It’s not.