I sit with Daniela Kovacic in her studio in Rogers Park in a huge building filled with dozens of other artists. Her studio is a tight space filled with warm light, the ceilings are low and the floors creaky. A blank canvas lays on the floor, her set of oil paints settled on a wooden cart, crusted around the tubes’ opening.
She sits opposite of me in a lived-in office chair with a coat haphazardly draped across the back. I am perched above her on a stool covered with bits of dried paint she assures me will not stain my clothes.
She hands me maté, a bitter Chilean drink made from herbs. I have known Daniela since I was young. In fact, a painting she did of my sister sits at the entry to her studio and one of me is tucked into the corner. When she greeted me she had hugged me and told me how big I had become since the last time she saw me.
I met Daniela by chance, my dad had become friends with her when she had moved into the office next door to his. When my sister and I would come visit our dad, Daniela would greet us warmly, bringing us alfajores, a traditional chilean cookie made with sweet dulce de leche and coconut.
It is remarkable to me at this very moment that the woman in front of me, someone very warm and down-to-earth, possesses an incredible talent for painting. Her art surrounds me, covering the walls and sitting on easels – all an ode to years of honed skill and passion.
“There was never any other option for me. I never thought that I would do anything else other than art.” Daniela is direct when I ask how she became an artist.
Kovacic grew up in a small town in the south of Chile to a father who was an architect. He assumed Daniela would follow the same path as him, but she soon realized she did not share in his passion for architecture. Instead, Daniela took to a hobby of her father’s: painting.
“When I started painting it was always about myself. I would paint others, but my art was about the alienation that you feel because you have to create your own identity through others. That always makes you a little bit of a strange person to yourself.” Kovacic remarks.
“There wasn’t any influence around my town,” she notes, “There were no galleries, no museums, no art to be seen anywhere.” She continues, “Everything that I absorbed in terms of art was through books, and my dad had a lot of books, so that was very nurturing.”
Eventually, Kovacic left her town and went to study in Santiago, Chile for university before receiving a full ride scholarship to The New York Academy of Arts when she was 27. Her passion for figurative art (art that uses real world references and often people) was not well received in Chile. Kovacic felt that moving to the US could open doors career-wise, as well as expose her to new worlds.
Early on, Kovacic painted self portraits. A series she painted in 2010 depicts herself with varying meats and foods bloodily hanging from her mouth. Her expression in each one is very different, ranging from emptiness and fear to anger and sadness. The nature of this series is consistent, with an unchanging background color and central figure. The paintings are grotesque yet force onlookers to stare at them and contemplate their meaning.
Whether it is political or psychological, Kovacic’s art always has a meaning that is personal and helps her to make sense of what is happening either within herself or the larger world. She describes her art as a “response to something that I’m going through.” And, “A way to make sense of the world through painting.”
“Later, it stopped being so much about me, and more about the human condition.” Kovacic began to ask herself, “What is the human condition?” And from there, her scope of the world shifted.
She stopped painting herself and began to explore other subjects. For Kovacic, choosing models is a very individualized experience. She is very thoughtful about who she chooses for which projects and what they may represent.
“Sometimes I feel attracted to the people in some way; It could be a personality thing, an aura thing, I’m attracted to it,” Kovacic explains, “I usually prefer to paint people that I’m establishing a relationship with so I can connect with the painting more.”
When she creates, the painting takes on its own meaning, becoming something entirely new and separate from the person she painted.
“It will never be that person for me. It’s going to be something completely on its own.” Kovacic adamants, “it’s a totally new entity there.”
It’s difficult to understand how involved painting is, or how an artist views their artistic process because it is something that is so personal. The meaning of each piece is deeply connected to who Kovacic is, but how her viewers perceive her art is up to them.
“My only aim is for them to feel something. I don’t specify what they are supposed to feel. I hope that they are not indifferent to it.” Kovacic says. “I really hope that somehow it touches people.”
Now, Kovacic is working on a series that faces her “disillusion with humanity,” as she puts it. Regarding the current circumstances in our world she feels that she is forced to ask herself, “What is our nature?”
She admits that she ultimately does not yet know the answer to that and then reaches for a book sitting on her desk. She then pivots the conversation,“Do you know Kali?” She asks with a smile on her face, as if the blue-skinned Hindu goddess is an old friend.
The Indian Goddess of destruction Kali Ma faces me, her many arms and legs protruding from her body and various symbols and faces surrounding her.
“I always thought about Kali as a symbol of destruction but I never read about her before. When I saw this, I didn’t see a deity, I just saw an angry mom defending its own.” Kovacic tells.
Since becoming a mother several years ago Kovacic’s world view shifted. The destruction and violence of the world allowed her to see herself in Kali Ma and inspired her new series that interrogates human nature, both the good and the bad.
“Kali is not just about destruction, she is about new life. There was a little bit of hope in my anger,” Kovacic admits.
The first painting in this series features the faces of five different women, all friends of Kovacic – mothers who share her anger at the world. They stare into the viewer’s eyes, some with defiant looks, others with ire and a will to protect. Various arms emerge from both sides as well as legs, mirroring the goddess they represent. Death masks of children hang around their necks, demanding onlookers to wonder how they got there. Impactful is an understatement, this piece evokes true emotion in its viewers and allows them to feel the despair our world is living in.
“I feel like I carry all those images, all the people lost.” Kovacic laments. The bleakness of our world inspires Kovacic to create, and her creations allow others to see just how destructive our society has become.
This unnamed painting of the goddess of destruction reminds us that within the darkness of the world, there are still people willing to protect and defend.
Daniela Kovacic is an incredibly talented artist with a unique vision of the world, blending her own reality with the perspectives of others in order to create art that is able to speak to its viewers. She has an upcoming exhibition on April 26 at the T Mari Gallery in the Ukrainian Village in Chicago featuring art about families with children who have disabilities, a series she recently finished. Kovacic’s work demands her observers to ask themselves who they are and what kind of world we are creating.
