Amy Earles: The Faces of Consciousness
Find depth in paper dolls, selves in pencil sketches, and identities in monochrome in the darkly whimsical world of Amy Earles.
The very first time I glanced upon American artist Amy Earles’ works, I found them to be cute, vaguely gothic drawings aimed for little girls. Her widely popular paper dolls and Little Witches series had an innocence and playfulness about them which I found endearing. The second time I saw her art however, I took a closer look and realized how off-the-mark and probably a little unjust my first impression had been. What I thought was just an arbitrary visual style was in fact a deliberate medium she chose to express something deeper, something more fundamental to her nature as an artist and a person.
What struck me most about Amy’s works was neither her style nor her technique. Her works were predominantly done in black and white and neutral palettes. While this was her tribute to silent films and pre-color animation, which inspired her growing up, this was not merely an aesthetic choice. She found that monochromes drew a better connection to the subconscious; that it better captured the mind in its unconscious state. As someone whose subconscious was nowhere near as neat as how Amy portrayed hers to be, I found this fascinating. If I were to visualize my subconscious, I would describe it as a mess of colourful strokes, busy patterns, and an ever-evolving tangle of shapes. Thus seeing another person’s conception of it, and one so different from mine, was very interesting.
As I read more about Amy’s works, it also became clearer and clearer what her intentions were. Art was not just a form of expression, a soliloquy consisting of her perceptions and ideas. Instead it served as her bridge. It was her means of communicating and sharing her world to those around her. It became the landscape of her journey to strip the self and expose cognizance that was previously hidden, buried, in an attempt to discover another self, another identity. It was her means of reaching out. Her blog, profile, and some interviews suggested an introverted, introspective woman who saw and felt more than she let on. These were reflected by her drawings and paintings which were restrained, quiet, and uncluttered. Yet from the lines on her creatures and from the themes of her illustrations — women in masks, human heads attached to constricted animal bodies, girls frozen in mid-stride — I got the sense that something was trying to break free, that her subjects were bursting at the seams. That she, in her own quiet way, was exposing depths of herself that would not otherwise see the light of day. This was a truly admirable feat, knowing the difficulty I had — and still have — in revealing myself to the world.
In the end while Amy’s subjects have child-like faces and an air of innocence, they are instead stripped-down representations of consciousness, seeking greater understanding and deeper connections. While the works themselves are easy to comprehend, they serve as a vehicle towards something much harder to fathom, and all the more interesting for it.
To contemplate further about the deeper meaning of Amy Earles’ works, or just to admire how pretty they are, visit her website, Pushed Under. She also has a shop where her prints and paper dolls are available for purchase. And if that is still not enough, follow her on Twitter and Instagram.
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