Emma Ortiz

Q: Where did you grow up?

A: Miami, Florida. I also lived in Maryland for a few years as a child, which was formative. It helped me realize early on that Miami wasn’t the only place in the world.

Q: How would you describe yourself?

A: Fiery—like a jumping bean. I have a lot of small bursts of energy.

 

Q: How did you get into painting?

A: I studied illustration in New York, but when I finished, I felt something was missing. I enteredan MFA program at FIU, where I was pushed to go deeper with my work. Through
experimenting, I found painting. At first I wasn’t sure if it was for me, but during the pandemic I had time to paint freely, without pressure. That freedom solidified painting as my practice.

 

 

 

Q: Do you have any rituals before starting?

A: Honestly, it’s not cute at all. I put my hair up, throw on an apron, and wear gloves. It’s the opposite of what you see on social media—the reality of the job is way less romantic. But I always have music on. I usually play full albums start to finish because I like when it all blends together—it helps me focus, almost like it’s one long song. Sometimes I’ll keep the same album looping for days or even weeks, and it becomes this kind of ritual, almost like a cleanse. Ilistened to the new Bad Bunny album on loop all summer. The physical part—tying my hair back, putting on gloves—feels like drawing a line between everything else and the studio. Once I do that, I’m in work mode, not touching my phone or computer, just fully there. And if you actually filmed me in the studio all day, it would look more like exercise than painting—I’m constantly moving canvases around, pacing in circles, running errands, hauling materials. It’s gritty, unglamorous labor a lot of the time. People tend to romanticize creative jobs, but really, it’s closer to cosplaying a warehouse worker than anything dreamy.

 

Q: What does a typical day in your studio look like?

A: It’s changed a lot as my work has gotten bigger. On a good day, I get to the studio really early—around 8 a.m.—in my unofficial “uniform”: a tank top and yoga pants. When I’m deep in a body of work, I pretty much go straight into painting. I’ll usually break around 11:30 to eat, call my mom, and reset, then paint again until around 5. If I’m on a more structured schedule, I’ll spend the morning on admin—emails, social media, prepping canvases, ironing and stretching them myself—before switching into painting mode in the afternoon. Since my studio is partly outdoors, I have to wrap up by 5:30 when it gets dark, so I really make use of the daylight hours. When I feel stuck, I dig into books, museum archives, and artists I admire—it helps refill my energy bank and keep the work moving forward. But overall, these days, my studio time is almost entirely devoted to painting.

 

 

Q: Who inspires you?

A: There are a few artists I always come back to—Kiki Smith, for example, I’ve loved her work for years. Lately, though, I’ve been trying to discover new voices. I’ve been really drawn to folk and primitive work by self-taught women artists from the early 1900s, many from the South who didn’t have access to formal training. Right now, I’m especially inspired by Neli May Rowe, a self-taught artist whose work feels so alive and inventive. I spend a lot of time digging through museum archives—like the American Folk Art Museum collection—and letting myself scroll until something stops me. I’ll order books, keep them in the studio, and live with them for a while. Beyond art history, I find a lot of inspiration in fabric and clothing. I’ll window-shop or save images of textures and silhouettes, then translate those patterns into landscapes, flowers, or trees in my paintings. My screenshot folder is full of the most random things—like a cheetah-print sock—that end up reappearing in unexpected ways. Recently, I’ve also been looking at Magdalena Suárez Frimkess, an incredible ceramicist. In general, I love spending time with the work of women artists who are still alive and creating today—it feels like an ongoing dialogue.

 

Q: How do you know when a painting is finished?

A: When it stops itching. That’s when I know I can let it go.

Q: What do you hope people feel when they see your work?

A: I hope they find something personal—whatever resonates for them emotionally. The works are very personal to me, but I love when others bring their own interpretations.

 

 

Q: Was there a specific moment when you knew you wanted to be an artist?

A: Yes—when I realized I didn’t have another choice. Even as a child, my earliest memories are coloring and making things. Creating has always felt like my gift and what I’m here to share.