In a culture obsessed with speed and output, Denver artist Eileen Roscina works in reverse. She hand-processes analogue film, harvests materials from her garden, and builds her sculptural works one willow branch at a time. We sat down with her to talk about risk, ritual, and why slowing down might be the most radical creative act of all.
The long road back: “My path has been non-linear, to say the least. When I was a girl, I wanted to be an artist. Somewhere along the way, I started to believe that I wasn’t good enough, and abandoned art completely. I began to draw the food I was making, then studied formally how to illustrate plants at the School of Botanical Arts and Illustration, which was the springboard for my career as an artist. Now, I’m a full-time artist, mom, and teacher.”
On risk and process: “Every time I hand-process film, it feels like a big risk. When entering into the darkness, sometimes you have to trust that there is a way through. When accidents occur, more often than not, they are more interesting than what I had originally planned. I prefer to focus on the process as opposed to the end product.”
Nature as material and metaphor: “Currently, through the study of biophilia and the use of organic materials, my work explores the tension between states of consciousness and unconsciousness, connection and disconnection, to ourselves and to nature. I challenge our disconnection from the environment and the conventional wisdom of our time being the dream of unending material progress.”
Rooted in ritual: “The boundaries between my life and my art are blurred. I draw an enormous amount of inspiration from my garden and grow a significant portion of my art materials. There are thousands of hidden hours of process behind every work, harvesting one willow branch at a time in the winter.”
Motherhood and the work: “After the birth of my son, it became very clear to me that art was interwoven into the fabric of my life. [But] I had to radically shift the way in which I worked, adapting uninterrupted eight-hour studio days to five minutes here and there on top of the kitchen counter, and furiously working during naps. I am realizing that the chaos of making art and raising a kid is not so different.”
Colorado light: “I was born in and grew up in Denver. The glorious Colorado sun has been a gift as a filmmaker.”
Called to create: “I feel a softening at this point in my career, more focused on the process than the outcome. I feel very called to keep making work in this political climate— we need art for context and perspective, it can be a lifeline.”
What lingers: “We have a moral imperative as humans to continue to find wonder in the natural world, even and especially in the face of loss and change. I aim to inspire a deeper sense of care, to slow down for a brief moment to tune in.”
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