THE BEAUTY OF IMPERFECT
From multipaneled paintings commissioned for New York’s dazzling One Vanderbilt skyscraper and big Sony windows on Madison Avenue to a giant video wall for Sundance and a huge billboard in Times Square, Linda Zacks deals in big concepts and big energy. Her canvases, whimsical and vibrant, convey visceral emotions with playful, primal complexity, which is why it makes perfect sense that she was chosen to brighten New York City streets with The Greatest City on Earth public art project after 9/11.
Ever since she began her career in the early days of the web boom, the Brown University and Rhode Island School of Design graduate has infused art and lettering into design, honing her distinctive style while working for clients like Broadway, Adobe, and Target. Her indelible way of seeing the world inevitably finds itself into her work, whether it’s a mural in Paris’s Gare Montparnasse station or an installation at an interactive conference in Barcelona. As a fine artist, Zacks makes imaginative use of materials—cardboard, duct tape, old wood, Polaroids, and so much more—but the concise poetry that accompanies each collage gives new meaning to the term “mixed media.” She’s currently showing at the White Room Gallery in Bridgehampton, New York and preparing for Art Market Hamptons, in August 2022, and another showing at SCOPE Miami, in November.
“My work is all about stories close to my heart,” she says. “I collect data and mash it together into a visual meal.”
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When I look at your art, I’m reminded of the full-body chaos of New York City.
I always say the city that breaks you makes you. Many intense years of living in the chaos jumpstarts your brain in amazing ways. I carry it with me—that kind of crazy energy is saved inside, and I use it when I need it.
What are the main lessons you learned from living in NYC?
Hustle. Be aggressive! I’m an athlete, so life in New York—the most competitive game you’ll ever take part in—fits my personality perfectly.
Give me an example of how the city inspired a particular piece.
“THE STREET” is my take on the street outside my old apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. At any given moment, there’d be a whole bunch of craziness going on around me; I’d interpret it and
metaphorically exaggerate bits and pieces, letting it transform into my vision of the moment.
Do you visit museum and galleries for inspiration?
Walk the streets! Be outside! New York is a living canvas that’s been painted over a billion times, leaving evidence underneath of past lives and stories. It’s a rich urban cake with human frosting. It’s a treasure hunt!
Sound and sports are important to you, too.
I enjoy all kinds of music while making stuff, and sometimes I listen to the room and the sounds of the studio without music: the soundtracks of nature and life. Staying in shape knocks loose the neurons needed to stimulate my brain for ideas and creativity. I’ve been boxing for three years, and it’s the best thing ever!
Tell me about your process. Do you start with sketches?
I’m more interested in the rawness of the thinking process than the final product. You create something and you maybe don’t like it and paint over it, but then something juicy pops into your mind and you write something else. The messiness, second-guessing and overthinking… that’s the interesting part!
Did you develop that spirit in school?
I’ve always been a fearless creator. I always say that I learned how to think, not draw. My creativity reared its head in unconventional ways—I often turned in elaborate books instead of just papers—and I found that creativity lived everywhere. “Art” class ended up being the least creative place for me. The biggest thing school taught me was creative problem-solving—how to question the parameters of a project so I could bend the rules accordingly. There’s a structured, educated brain underneath the apparent craziness of my pieces. My work is not wallpaper; each piece has depth.
And just like New York City, your canvases are packed with visual stimuli.
I love rich colors and rollers and used paper and old cardboard—physical materials that did some living before I found them. A friend made me huge wooden letters, which I use as giant stamps. I love letters of all shapes and sizes, and especially my old Remington typewriter, which my husband proposed to me on. I love different viscosities of paint, from liquids that splat and ooze and spill to really thick caked-on sludge.
Is your studio as blissfully alive as your art, or is it organized to a T?
The studio is alive with the tools of creativity, and creativity is messy! Every time I make a painting or a book, my studio explodes into a disaster area. My workspace bends and changes with each project—I’m forever making space for new experiments and commissions.
Some of your pieces are huge, too!
Most of my works are very large. They have evolved to be big because people want them big. My work is usually the focal point of a room—see it, feel it.
You moved to Princeton, New Jersey a few years ago. Is NYC still in your bones?
I will always make NYC-centric paintings, but my output lately has become about more universal human themes close to my heart, like “HUSTLE,” “STRONG,” “SUNSHINE,” and “THE ANCESTORS.” These share some visceral qualities with other works, but they’re more about humans than the city. That said, I’m also making “TEN MINUTES IN TIMES SQUARE,” so the city is never really that far away. We live right between NYC and Philly, an oasis amongst the madness.
When did words become such an important part of your visuals?
I love word-based paintings; one word is a full three-course meal of concept and whimsy. I collect words. I have a journal with lists of words that spark ideas for future creations. English was my art class, and I’m deeply rooted in words and writing. When does a word become an image, and vice versa? I’m a huge fan of any kind of letter, any form, and I still handwrite stuff.
How do you divide your time between pencil-and-paper and software?
I always say that I have one hand on a pencil and one on a pixel. I graduated college right as the web was exploding onto the scene, umbilical cord still attached. I feel lucky to have learned the old way of doing things before computers took over our lives. I am very much analog and digital, and that combo makes for interesting crossovers and possibilities.
You worked at VH1 for a while, but were you also making art on the side?
Yes. I created a treasure trove of personal projects, paintings, and handmade books, which a friend finally convinced me to put up on a website. Since VH1, I have worked on an amazing bunch of
commissions, from editorial illustrations to integrated advertising campaigns. Some of my handmade NYC books have been featured at New York’s MoMA Design Store and the International Center of Photography’s museum shop.
Tell me about the new, more universal pieces you mentioned earlier.
I’m excited about a new series called “THE ANCESTORS.” It’s all about asking big questions: Where did you come from? Who made you? How are we who we are? Genetics, DNA, hair follicles, stories, moments, recollections, atoms, protons, magic dust… This series is about contemplating your existence, the people who made you, and the people who made them.
How many pieces will be in the series?
I’ve made the first two “ANCESTORS,” and I can see it expanding to 20 or more compelling figures, brimming with words and history.
What advice would you give to someone interested in cultivating a body of work as diverse and energetic as yours?
Enjoy the beauty of slow, the beauty of imperfect. Record life as it whizzes by your nose. Take it all in. Inject the vibrancy, the surprises, the love, the conflict, the conversations. Keep moving. Keep trying. Keep failing. Don’t stop. Cultivate your voice—it’s a lifelong song.
@lindazacksart
