Words Daniel Fuller Photography Matt Jones

Published in No 19

Producing a new show can be stressful enough. Then add in your largest show to date and a healthy dash of a big move. As someone who has been traveling all around to see Nina Chanel Abney's work for many years, I was beyond excited to speak with her. She mentioned with all that has just happened — ongoing home renovations and the debut of large-scale sculptures which had her traveling back and forth to a foundry in Switzerland — she had just finished months of 20-hour workdays in the studio.

With so much happening, you wonder about balance and whether the studio becomes a sanctuary. She explained, "It feels therapeutic once I pass a certain threshold, maybe when I'm 80% done and working on everything simultaneously. Then I'm in this zone. It's like I work months and hours just to hit that last 20%, which feels effortless. Then there'll be moments where I paint something, and one corner will stand out, something so small that will trigger another idea or something I want to explore further."

She thinks big, and she works big. And all those early mornings and late nights in the studio led to the current exhibition, LIE DOGGO, which fills all 5,000 square feet of Jack Shainman's, The School, in Kinderhook, New York. Here, there is a moment where you turn a corner to find a small set of stairs and a long sun-filled hallway. It feels like a moment of transition in a significant journey: not only the passage between different spaces but also in phases of life. Halfway down the hallway, we are confronted by a monumental floor-to-ceiling mural, an eye-popping bright yellow wall dotted with a wide range of recognizable and almost recognizable shapes and pictographs. It is here where she reveals that thin line between fire and water, between heaven and hell, arms reaching to the skies, arms attempting in vain to reach down and pull those that slipped below the surface. Turning the corner, the next wall has a light blue backdrop. This second wall-sized mural is split: on one side, we see her signature simplified figures, brown faces with symbols of light and votive offerings to the ancestors and saints in prayer and, on the far end of the wall, pale pink faces in various states of concern; large eyes, open mouths. Their attempts to show empathy and support express more disappointment than grief.

Throughout her career, Abney's work has challenged viewers to confront societal issues by way of bold paintings that combine pop culture with sharp social commentary. Her visual feast engages with themes of race, gender, and contemporary culture. Her pieces synthesize cartoon-like, emoji-esque figures and complex narratives, capturing modern life's chaotic pace and themes.

Born in the south suburbs of Chicago, Illinois, in 1982, Abney's path to art was influenced by her surroundings and upbringing. Her parents nurtured her creative instincts from a young age. Her mother wasn't a regularly practicing artist but had instilled a familiarity with the idea. When Abney came across her mother's art supplies and work, she recognized the talent but realized it was not something her mother could fully pursue.

Sometime later, at her grandfather's place, Abney found her mother’s coolest drawing, a scroll-like, life-size portrait of Julius "Dr. J" Erving. As a longtime fan of Abney's work and an avid hoop head, it’s ironic to me that her mother's subject matter would instinctively sneak in: one of my favorite works by Abney is a mural painted on a basketball court.

"There might be a lot of people who are intimidated to go into galleries, intimidated to go into museums. I like the fact that you could just stumble on a public work where you can interact with it, on the court, you can walk on it," she told me. In the spring of 2018, as part of a joint Duke/UNC Visiting Professorship, Carolina arts students experienced a unique opportunity to collaborate on a large-scale mural with Abney for the Morrison Residence Hall basketball court.

This project marked her first time fully overseeing the process, working closely with students to bring the painting to life. The mural's subject(s) reflected the students' social and political concerns, ideas, and interests. Together, they delved into the Wilson Library's digital archives to explore the university's history and current life, resulting in a design utilizing universal symbols that address themes of race, class, gender dynamics, and police violence. Abney's big, bright visuals balance the tension from these challenging conversations, blending elements of Pop Art and Abstract Expressionism into a living, breathing work of art, a beloved court for hoopers across the campus. It's a fantastic thing to see 50 to 60 students on the court, on the sidelines, their sneakers, their eyes, knowingly or not, engaging with a work of art, this harmonious blend of creativity and competition.

Reflecting on her earliest art memories, Abney reminisced about school field trips to the Art Institute of Chicago, where she saw a colossal portrait by Chuck Close, a meticulous and complex painting where he painstakingly reproduces details of his subject, as if it were a photograph; or Georges Seurat's pointillist masterpiece, A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. She remembers how these laid an early foundation for her creative journey: she could take these different styles from different times and make her mix of vivid colors, dynamic compositions, and layered meanings, and be influenced by a variety of sources, including news media, politics, celebrity culture, and social media, as well as historical and personal experiences. Through her art, Abney provides a mirror to society, reflecting its complexities, contradictions, and injustices.

I wondered if her figures ever had a fictional backstory and if she fleshed out their lives. She mentioned that they form a personal story to figure out how to convey their emotions. Then she explained how they change over time: "Once they're on the canvas, they take on a life of their own. I've been removed from my work. Then I'll see it later in someone's house or out in the world and, honestly, it will feel like I didn't even make it."

Abney's art is a powerful form of social and political commentary. Far from subtle, it is an unapologetic reconfiguration of hard black-and-white truths, delivered through her unique visual language, juxtaposing hard-edged, resolute figures with buoyant, disordered compositions. In public or in the gallery, she remains true to a core commitment to exploring social narratives through a critical and playful lens. This bait-and-switch tactic allows Abney to engage a broad audience, inviting all viewers to find their place in it. 

According to museum researchers, the average visitor spends 15 to 30 seconds in front of a work of art. But Abney offers all these invitations, all these "nuggets" in her work that give the viewer just enough clues to the meaning while still allowing the viewer to bring themselves to the wall. Her work stops you in your tracks and invites you to decode its messages. She wants the work to serve as a two-way street. When discussing her approach to complex themes, Abney described it as, "I want the work to feel like a place of discovery, where you're not spending only one second there. You're forced to look; visually, your eyes take you all over the place. You might know a scene, but then you don't know completely what's going on, so I drop gems in there. Enough where you can come to your own conclusion. I truly want people to connect with the work for themselves." This philosophy underpins the depth and richness of her work.

In considering Abney's practice, I've often thought of Keith Haring's ambition to make art accessible and universal, how Haring frequently redefined the modern artist's role, expanding upon and further commercializing the radical approaches pioneered by Andy Warhol. Abney exudes a similar openness, democracy, and generosity. Instead of solely creating exclusive, singular objects, she is building an incredible portfolio of accessible art for a wide audience. She has designed collections for both Timberland and the Jordan brand for Nike; created a custom, in-game soccer uniform (jersey, shorts, socks) for EA Sports FIFA 22; created the album cover for Meek Mill's studio album Expensive Pain; concert merch for Pusha T; and even a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle for the MoMA Design Store. Throughout the pandemic, my kids and I had a ball playing with her special artist edition of UNO, the first living artist to appear on the cards. Each card was an individual work of art, with her bold colors, vibrant faces, emotional expressions, and a twist in the gameplay, as she introduced a new rule with a WILD NO card.

When I asked about this confluence of fine art and commercial work, she told me she approached both in the same way. A capsule clothing collection is researched in much the same way a painting exhibition would be. Consumer goods primarily offer new materials on which to make art. "If you can't afford a painting or a sculpture, in this shoe, in these UNO cards, you feel like you have something special and that is unique."

Despite all that she has accomplished, there is still a list of unrealized ambitions she is working towards. There are dreams of a collaboration with an international fashion house, as well as a soon-to-be-revealed exhibition goal that will be public in 2025; a new group of all-women's sign painters that will help paint her large murals; and then the one that lit up her smile: it would combine public art and pop culture with the festive spirit of one of the most iconic parades in the world. Abney has grand visions of creating a balloon for the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade.

Above, I mentioned her big move. Since 2005, Abney has lived in Jersey City. The recent move to New York's Hudson Valley offered an opportunity to combine home and studio. Not yet fully settled but already reaping the benefits, she said, "You know, being up here, the thing I enjoy about it is the quiet. That was the thing I was most nervous about going into a quiet environment, but it has given me a different kind of focus, which I feel I have not had in a very long time living so close to the city." She has plans for life out of the city. There is DJ equipment, a jazz piano, and a search for a tennis partner. Just like in the inspiration found in the last 20% of the paintings, these new endeavors spark in her work. The show in Kinderhook was first produced (about 50% of it) in the new studio. This shift has allowed her to explore new dimensions in the work, ensuring that her artistic journey speaks to our time’s complexities and contradictions.

 LIE DOGGO is on view through November 16, '24, at Jack Shainman’s The School, Kinderhook, NY.

Daniel Fuller is a curator, writer, and a regular contributor to UD. @fuller31

Matt Jones @theonlymattjones is a regular contributor to UD. He is represented by wschupfer.com