Brandonvosika.com
@brandonvosika

“My whole life, I was either flying or sinking. I wanted to tell you about all the feelings I have inside. Songs my stupid little heart sings when I smell the flowers from mema’s back yard. Or how I wonder what Olive sees when she stares into my eyes. I wanted to write you a poem of love and mysterious things. The paintings are poems. Stories I tell myself when I am flying and also sinking.”
Brandon Vosika composes intimate portrait paintings utilizing bright colors and expressive brush strokes, connecting viewers with nostalgic, often fantastical stories he feels an almost painfully desperate need to tell. In opposition to the superficially flooded era we’ve found ourselves wading through with predictably disposable “content” taking the place of genuine human connection, Brandon extends a hand for you to hold and delivers surprisingly heartfelt sentiments he often plainly refers to as “feelings I’d like to share.”
Brandon lives and works in Seattle, WA, where, in addition to his paintings, he makes sculpture, publishes small press books and print editions, and operates a friendly correspondence art project from his haunted downtown studio. He has participated in over 100 group and solo shows with galleries and museums in Seattle, New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Portland, and has been featured in print and online publications including The New York Times, Architectural Digest, The Seattle Times, City Arts Magazine, Relish Magazine and The Stranger.

“Most everything I make is up for interpretation. The feelings and messages that audiences find in my paintings are as important as the sentiments that inspired me to make the work. It's a conversation I love having with the viewer. I made the damn thing, I stared at it for countless hours and learned to love pieces I once hated or didn't understand, I wrote the story in real time. I did the dance and tried my best. After that I'm most fascinated by what the work can inspire in other people. I often approach a new canvas without a clear picture in my head, as a blank page. I like to think of it as writing a poem or a story. I have a vague idea to start with, usually a feeling or memory tucked away in my mind that makes my soul sing a song or feel like it's going to burst, and I write the story as I go along. It opens the door for surprises and happy accidents which are often highlights in the finished picture. I think this process naturally leaves room for multiple meanings and endless personal interpretations.”

“I've spent my life trying to figure out what inside of me creates this desperation to interpret and externalize my feelings. It's probably an untreated chemical imbalance, if I'm honest, but also maybe it's longing for acceptance. An innate need to connect with other people who might be like me, folks with a heavy heart for no apparent reason. I’ve always wanted to be a poet but I’m not good at writing. The paintings feel like poems, though, made for anyone that will listen and open their hearts. The Portuguese have a word that I’ve always liked, Saudade, an emotional state of melancholic or nostalgic longing for a something beloved yet absent, be it real or imagined. It’s often a mysterious recollection of feelings, experiences, places, and people held close to one’s heart.”

“I look at each work in three stages: The feelings that inspired me to make the piece, how I felt while physically making it, and how the finished product moves me as a viewer. This little equation speaks a lot about the art. I thought I could apply a similar theory to how I live my own life: What made me the way that I am; how does it feel now and what drives me to continue living as an artist; where do I hope to be when my life has finished and what would I like my time here to have meant to my friends, loved ones, and others?
“I hope I am able to give back the friendship and sense of belonging that has been handed to me. The sincerest impact making art and existing in the art world has had on my life is my connection with a community of friends and contemporaries. Making art can be lonely. Artists exist in a different world than everyone else and it can be isolating. Without close people who understand you, you can have trouble understanding yourself. The relationships I’ve cultivated with fellow artists have made me see that I’m not alone in this big scary world. My friends have made me a better person and given me courage to be the artist I’ve always known I was.”