Molly was born in New Orleans, Louisiana, where she was fortunate enough to grow up with an incredibly gifted and talented artist, her mother. As a kid, she spent every night drawing her favorite cartoon character, Scooby-Doo. She sold her first artwork to her middle school librarian and she has been pursuing art ever since. Molly received her BFA in Interdisciplinary Sculpture at the Maryland Institute College of Arts (MICA) in May 2013.
Molly entered college as an Illustration major, without any experience working 3D. After her first sculpture course, she changed her major without hesitation. Since then, she has worked in wood, steel, iron, bronze, plaster, clay, glass, and more. She finds a unique beauty in the advantages and restrictions of each material.
Simply put, Molly's work is about courage. Her ideas stem from her own life story, but through the unexpected failures and limitations that occur during the process, the work becomes a story of its own. With every piece, there is a struggle and an evolution. Molly intentionally chooses materials that will not conform to her desired shape without a fight. The struggle between the artist and her materials gives the work strength, honesty, presence, and an unexpected beauty.
In my recent paintings, I’ve been working with mundane objects like deli sandwiches, microwaves, and washing machines. These objects have no special interest for me. They’re cheap and mass-produced. But I like working with them, because their very banality helps me to turn my focus away from the objects themselves and towards the image as a whole: the flat shapes, the balance of light and dark, and the interaction of color.
Over the last several years time has been a central element in my paintings. I’ve painted from motifs that are composed over time—a lemon tree as it grows and its fruit matures, or a kitchen countertop that changes each day through use. And remnants of earlier states remain on the surface of the finished paintings.
Over the past year, I’ve become increasingly interested in pictorial space as well. In each of my recent paintings, I try on, or test out, a specific approach to pictorial space that has been used historically. I take it that no one system used to create the illusion of space, from the Greco-Romans to the High Renaissance to the Abstract Expressionists, is more natural or accurate than the others, but each represents a distinct way of perceiving the world. I’m interested in becoming more deliberate about my approach to pictorial space, pulling out the ideas from each historical period that I find compelling, and repurposing them toward my own ends.
This focus on questions of time and pictorial space has lead to the introduction of some abstract elements into my work. As compositional problems come up, I’ve started using arbitrary planes of color rather than objects to resolve them. This has freed me up to make more intuitive changes while I’m painting. And, as I make changes to balance out the composition, the space of the painting becomes fragmented in a way that interests me.
I will take you with me. We are leaving, moving to a new city and state. We will leave this home where we were married, where our son was born, where we learned to become parents. These paintings are memories, reflecting on the early years of marriage and motherhood. They are conversations about some of the tender, wondrous, and difficult moments and transitions, large and small, in this journey. They have a desire to talk about moments that really change us. They touch upon the personal, not for the sake of self-indulgence, but in the belief that we are better as individuals and a community if we share, both good and bad experiences, in order to connect with and support one another.
My work is rooted in the traditions of perceptual paintings, but is not married to painting exclusively from observation. One of the consequences of painting memories is that these moments are already gone. I am left to recreate this time through a reenactment of events, setting up the specific spot with the same or similar items as remembered, or as close as possible. The missing parts are created with the help of memory, photographs, and invention.
In selecting the point of view, I am generally not interested in illustrating an act, but rather present my perspective in a particular moment. For example, I do not paint the act of getting married, but rather my perspective of what I was looking at during breakfast on my wedding day. It was a moment of contemplation. My intention is to capture the feeling of that specific time. My hope is that within the work, a viewer can have his or her own experience, perhaps reminded of a similar time in his or her own life or simply by engaging with the art.