What makes a flower petal, a pearl or a seashell special? In the canvases of Renée Levinwho paints their details in large print, the formation of these objects becomes a kind of miracle. Her main motif—extremely detailed objects set against simple backgrounds—is a way to explore and share that wonder. As cliche as it sounds, Levin tells the Observer, she has felt a deep connection with nature since childhood. “There are big stories behind these natural objects that have been overlooked for a long time. I want to celebrate them by putting them on a pedestal to show my audience all these little details that have incredible symmetry or patterns that Mother Nature created.”
Levin’s subjects, rendered in ink in two dimensions, have an almost tangible presence. To achieve this effect, Levin gravitates toward a minimal color palette to emphasize texture—creamy colors, enhanced by strong lighting and bright highlights on glossy surfaces, exaggerate shadows. “I always say that my paintings give the audience ‘permission to feel,’ and you can literally take that,” she explains, adding that she almost never paints her subjects in the settings they would normally be found in. Instead, she transports them through the canvas, which gives them another life. “By doing that, it creates a focus. If I paint a flower in a grassy landscape, I don’t think people will pay that much attention and look at it that closely.” Sometimes she paints just one petal, not even the whole flower, in its imperfect state, “so it enables or forces the viewer to really focus.”
Figuratively, this permission to feel is her way of bringing mindfulness and slowness back into our lives. “These days, our lives have become so fast that they’ve almost become robotic, especially with technology, which is a little scary,” says Levin. Painting magnified objects is almost like a meditation for him – a way to realize how all-encompassing these little things are in nature and how many details go unnoticed when our attention is limited by efficiency. Expanding detail allows her to show her audience the beauty and nuances in objects that they might overlook.
Often, Levin’s painting process begins with the simple act of gathering. She has jars of natural objects, which she photographs in a dark room where she can control the light source. “Photography is actually a very time-consuming process,” she says. “I play with composition, seeing where the light hits the subject and creates shadows. Through my camera, negative space and composition rework things into something I’m happy with.” When it’s time to start painting, she usually sketches the subject, then paints from reference photographs while looking directly at the subject. Photography is especially important when she’s working with ephemeral objects like flower petals that will decay as she paints, though she says painting is often the easiest part. “For me, it’s a week, but it really depends on the complexity of the object, the composition and the size.”
As much as she uses the camera, Levin has never considered photography one of her mediums. “When you’re a painter who really paints, you’re almost in constant competition with yourself,” she points out. “You’re constantly trying to get to the point where you challenge how well you can get at it. With a photograph, it’s almost too easy.” Levin is not, notably, a trained painter; she went to art school for design and worked as a designer for years before returning to painting professionally in 2019. However, she “always had an itch to paint. I always needed to use my hands to release my creativity.” This background in design is evident in her work. “The contrast, boldness and dramatic side of my work comes from design. Learning to use negative space while designing helped me create compositions through my painting.”
Artists often have theories or narratives ready, but Levin resists that. Instead, her work requires presence and slowness, and she wants viewers to develop their own ideas about the objects she paints: “In my new collection, these flowers almost become figurative: the curves of the stems almost put you into these forms. I call them memory vessels, as they are almost like a reflection of the phases of my life that I want others to see.” Levin believes there is no way to look at these flowers without experiencing them as forms that generate feelings—they are as full of emotion as objects and forms in themselves, while also embodying a minimalist sensibility. “The biggest limitation of my work is that I just paint beautiful objects. It’s much more than that. Understanding our relationship with nature and the objects around us is a philosophical journey.”
Levin’s works can be found in the hands of private collectors and in the halls of institutions. In June, six monochromatic pearl and shell pieces will be part of an exhibition at the Hidell Brooks Gallery in Charlotte, North Carolina. She also receives commissions, which require knowing the buyers and how the spaces where the paintings will be exhibited are used. “There are a lot of intimate conversations because ultimately they’re going to live with the art, so it has to feel good for them.” She recently completed a residency project at the White Elephant Hotel, a family-owned hotel in Nantucket, Massachusetts, where she painted after encountering the owner’s wife’s collection of artifacts. She freely admits that finding homes for her paintings can be emotional. “I like the connection part of the commissioned pieces, because often you don’t know where the art ends and it’s sad. It’s a part of me. It’s like leaving a child.”
She started Instagram just before COVID, when people started slowing down and looking for creativity as an outlet against uncertainty. “We’re in an overachieving society that won’t stop, and people are drawn to the kind of Zen aesthetic in my work,” she says. Indeed, her Instagram is a corner of the minimalist aesthetic that feels authentic to her while offering visitors a sense of calm amidst busy lives. For Levin, that authenticity—in person, on social media, in the studio—is a prerequisite for everything. “If I paint something I don’t like, it will be very visible in the work. I have to finish a painting feeling happy that I’m ready to leave my studio.” Art, she adds, touches almost every aspect of life. “I’m more intentional in the way I live to bring my creativity into all aspects of my life. It’s intertwined. An artist’s work is never done: you’re constantly questioning, looking for answers, and working things out in the studio. It’s not an easy thing, but it creates the greatest satisfaction. You live a fuller life, even though it’s hard on yourself and it’s at the end of an art. hurry to do it.”
More in Artists
