Vivien Lee
- Anna Lilli Garai
- Mar 14
- 6 min read
Vivien Lee’s work is an exploration of emotional landscapes and creative intuition, where every mark, texture, and layer speaks to the complexity of the human experience. Her mixed-media pieces are alive with energy, capturing fleeting moments of reflection, struggle, and growth. Each artwork evolves organically, shaped by spontaneity but always guided by a deeper purpose, much like the unpredictable course of life itself. Vivien invites viewers into a world of constant transformation—where color, form, and texture are fluid, continuously shifting and revealing new layers of meaning. The beauty of her work lies in its ability to balance chaos and clarity, creating a space where emotions and thoughts can unfold and connect. With every piece, Vivien opens up a dialogue between the viewer and the artwork, leading them to feel that something significant has been uncovered, that the conversation between the internal and external worlds has just begun.
Q: Your work brings together painting, mark-making, and found materials. How did you arrive at this mixed-media approach, and what does it allow you to express?
A: My current approach to making results from years of exploration and becoming increasingly attuned to observing the effects on the substrate as well as my internal responses. I thrive on the feedback when I catch myself thinking, “What if?”, seek to read up on the topic, or reach for my phone to capture an image of what has inspired me.
I moved away from purely working with acrylic paints to mixed media because I am insanely curious and love learning. With mixed media, there will always be something new to discover. Being an ideas person, the notion of possibilities excites me. I find this especially true with found objects. Art-making has taught me to look at the ordinary and irrelevant with fresh eyes. That nothing is fixed in meaning allows me to tease out new purposes from objects. It’s about recognizing the greater potential in things, often beyond what we initially perceive.
With mark-making, it’s more about my internal state. The marks I make represent my inner rhythm and emotions. For example, slow, small, and repetitive marks invite me to ponder, meditate, and calm down. On the other hand, my wide, loopy marks often represent courage, action, and decision. They raise my heart rate and energize me in a different way.
The vehicle that carries all of these elements is acrylic paint, which can take on so many personalities depending on whether it’s used thickly or watered down. I enjoy the complex nature of the medium.
Q: You describe your process as intuitive, responding in the moment rather than following a set plan. How does this fluidity shape the way a piece develops?
A: I often start a painting simply by being present with my internal state, selecting colors and tools in response to how I feel. I continue to build up the layers by responding to what has already been laid out. It’s as if the piece speaks to me: “I look good, more of it, please.” or “Oh, not pretty—wipe me off, please.” This might even mean painting over an entire piece because I feel completely different on another day!
I accept these drastic changes and even thrive on them. I love creating to the point where my heart races. The work always turns out better when I take risks.
So, the painting goes through its own passage of time. At the same time, it’s about honoring where I am at that moment and what needs attention. Every painting carries a little part of me, my history.
Q: Writing is a key part of your creative practice, whether through asemic text or the meaning behind a title. How does language influence your visual work?
A: Growing in self-awareness is important to me. It’s a crucial aspect of my desire to make honest, authentic art. Because of this, I’m particularly drawn to books on spirituality, self-improvement, and psychology. I love words for the power they have to ignite my imagination—to make me consider what could be and what changes are possible.
Short, impactful phrases stay with me. As an introvert, I often mull over them quietly in my mind. But I also know that when I am willing to say something out loud or lay it out visually, I have moved on to a deeper level of understanding and acceptance. When it becomes public—whether readable or not—I’ve made personal meaning of the words and claimed my truth at that point in time.
Q: "New Beginnings" reflects a pivotal decision in your life. How did making this piece help you navigate that crossroads?
A: Because I start a painting intuitively, meaning often emerges at a later stage. When it does, my mark-making slows, and I require more solitude and silence. During this time, I look, study, and observe, engaging in an internal conversation with myself and the piece to determine my next steps. Depending on the question at hand, I sometimes journal as well. This interplay—the call and response between text and image—is very clarifying for me and helps with decision-making.
With New Beginnings, I recognized the powerful emotional force I brought to its creation. I remember it as a time of fearlessness and boldness. The attitude of “there is nothing to lose” stays with me to this day and is rekindled whenever I look at the piece.
Q: Your paintings hold tension—between vibrancy and grounding, complexity and harmony. Is this balance something you actively pursue, or does it emerge naturally?
A: It emerges naturally because my work is heavily process-oriented. The journey to completion reflects the realities of my mental, emotional, and spiritual states, which—like any human experience—pivot between pain and pleasure, clarity and confusion. My work, therefore, reflects the search for meaning and, ultimately, my ability to self-regulate and find balance.
On a practical note, I like things in odd numbers, so balance often happens instinctively as I touch the canvas a couple more times after my initial strokes.
Balance is also something I pursue at the end when I edit and revise. While I paint because I enjoy the process, I am also responsible for the final product as a working artist. I take pride in putting something out there, and it’s important to me that a piece looks finished and invites the viewer to stay with it.
Ultimately, I paint to pursue peace. A painting is done when I can take a breath of satisfaction, knowing that I have given both myself and the work my best.
Q: "Sanctuary" carries a deeply personal theme of vulnerability and support. How do you translate such emotional experiences into visual form?
A: It’s important for me to acknowledge my feelings and welcome them—especially emotions like anger, fear, and sadness. This means sitting with them for a while, even if it requires using dark, heavy colors or frenzied marks that seem to “ruin” a painting.
If a song lyric resonates with me while I’m painting, I will play that song on repeat. This stage of making requires stillness and waiting. The true self eventually emerges and points the way forward. It may take days, months, or even years, but things will pass, and I can return to the piece with peace. I’d like to believe that because of the growth work I’ve done over the years, I now approach life with profound joy. That I carry on with hope amidst pain and suffering means that my work always reveals a quality of light.
The work will always resolve itself in a way that truly reflects what I stand for.
Q: Nature is a strong influence on your work. How does time spent observing the world around you translate into your paintings?
A: Being outdoors isn’t so much about translating what I see into imagery as it is about the mental space it puts me in. I enjoy a good breeze. As the wind blows, my cares are carried into the great unknown, and I am refreshed. In an expansive space, I feel more relaxed and open-minded. All of this frees me to let ideas flow and discern which ones to pursue.
Observing nature reminds me that there are no limits to what is possible.
No matter how much time I spend outside, there is always something new to discover. Nature nurtures my sense of awe.
Q: You’ve explored multiple creative paths, from writing to bookbinding to painting. How do these different disciplines feed into each other in your practice?
A: I don’t think these different practices need to overtly feed into each other, although writing and painting, as I’ve shared, do influence each other more directly.
Through the years, I have also pursued leather crafting, pottery, printmaking, Chinese seal carving, and Japanese sashiko stitching. In a completely different realm of creativity, I also love cooking and gardening.
I developed my passion for bookbinding because I enjoy gifting books. I love the idea of providing others with a blank slate to write their own stories. It’s my small way of encouraging creativity in others.
All these pursuits have taught me transferable skills like design, observation, and problem-solving. They have refined my aesthetic sense and given me confidence in approaching any creative task. And who knows—one day, the knowledge I’ve gathered about tools and materials might lead to new breakthroughs in my mixed-media work!
