Art as Activism: Monica Kim Garza
The Mexican-Korean artist in conversation with art curator, historian and educator Antoine J. Girard.
Art as Activism started as a response to injustices and inequalities present in the art world; it furthered the important work of making space for artists of color. The series continues with Monica Kim Garza, an American artist whose Mexican-Korean heritage inspires her depiction of fiercely independent, brown-skinned women.
– Antoine J. Girard
Monica Kim Garza is an American painter and sculptor born in New Mexico and raised in Georgia. Now based in Atlanta after years of on-and-off travel that took her to Seoul, Peru, Southeast Asia and New York, Garza’s work focuses on paintings and ceramics.
Inspired by her dual Mexican-Korean heritage, Garza infuses elements of her life into her paintings, depicting a variety of brown-skinned, often naked, women depicted in moments of their daily lives. Her work pushes and pulls at expectations of traditional figurative conversations in art, exploring power, sexuality and an ease that conveys a sense of control—the perfect artist to speak to in a time of uncertainty.
NAME: Monica Kim Garza
LOCATION: Atlanta, Georgia
MEDIUM: Painting and Sculpture
INSTAGRAM: @monicakimgarza
What informs some of the body language in your works? I love the fact [that the figures in your works] are full-bodied women who don't seem to be super interested in what people think about them.
I feel like, unknowingly, that is what it projects. I don't step out in the world with that specific intention but that is very much how I am, in a way, and it comes out in my artwork. But a lot of it is inspired by my own culture.
What's your background?
My dad's Mexican and my mom is Korean.
Do you see yourself as both?
I do, definitely. My parents are both very proud of their cultures and I grew up like that. That's where the characters come from. Growing up in Georgia, basically all my friends were African American and I sometimes place them in my paintings. When I’m around certain cultures, which for me happened to be of all colors, that's what ends up getting projected through my eyes and my art.
What I love about your work is that it traverses new language and conversations. You have full-figured bodies doing what they want to do. There seems to be a lot of assertion there.
There's also this thing [about growing up] being both Asian and Mexican. I was in an environment where no one was like me–there were absolutely no Asian people around me. I was really only attached to my mother in her culture.
There [also] weren't very many Mexican people around us. Mostly, I grew up in a very, very Southern Black and white environment, and because of that, I have this other identity. Maybe my paintings are a different type of Asian, an unrestricted one.
When I went to Syracuse [University], it was the first time I ever saw Korean people. That sounds crazy, but I remember feeling, like, ‘Damn. Korean people.’
Maybe my paintings are a different type of Asian, an unrestricted one.
Monica Kim Garza
What do you look at when making your work? Are there people in art history that you respond to or think about?
I always looked at the Renaissance. I really loved classic artists who, funnily enough, happen to be all white men. Those are the artists I grew up with, and I really appreciate and love that technical painting. Then, of course, modern art, Picasso.
I'll still look at Caravaggio and Courbet and Titian and all these old masters and there's something that I can't get over. You [always] find something new in those paintings.
If you feel comfortable, do you want to talk about some of the [recent rise in AAPI hate crimes] in regards to your community?
I have a Chinese friend, and me and her woke up one day and were, like, ‘Bro, we didn't even know this shit was going on.’ I had people reach out to me and be, like, ‘Are you okay?’ I had a friend and I was, like, ‘Yo, did you know about this?’ And she goes, ‘I'm just wearing shades.’
When that shooting here in Atlanta happened, it was very shocking and scary because I remember the day after I went out with my mom, and we were in H Mart [the Korean American supermarket chain] and I had this thought: ‘Asian people, they click together. If anyone wanted to come into H Mart right now and [do something terrible], they could.’
I think a big reason why no one knew that this was happening is because Asian people are taught to be quiet. You're always taught to suppress your emotions, to think, to let things simmer, not to overreact. Like Bruce Lee says, ‘Be like water.’ Asian people don't process the way other people process.
Do you think art has the ability to change perceptions? I feel like your art is the perfect response to a world like this because it's not labeled.
I don't like when people put me in a box. I never liked that people would try to categorize me, even by my race. I always grew up feeling Other.
That makes sense. The question becomes, when do you get to be the individual and not be so committed to every perspective people have of you?
Exactly. I want to be an individual. Wherever people see my art, it'll be a combination of people who love my art because they look like me and people who look nothing like me at all. Both tell me they see themselves in my paintings. That's what's good about art. When I paint, I want to paint with feeling [and] the feeling that I'm feeling, that's what I want my painting to evoke. It doesn't matter who you are.
What does success ultimately look like for you?
This sounds so corny but success for me would be to leave a legacy. The way that I've looked at other painters, I would like to leave that same legacy.
Writer: Antoine J. Girard
Artwork: Courtesy of the artist