
Nerve installation view, featuring work from Skye Parrott (left), Shannon Lucy and Jenna Westra
Editor's note:Â Nerve is the first Scene-sponsored art exhibition, and it closes today. One of the most successful facets of the show has been the response to "Morning Prayer," a painting by the singular, idiosyncratic artist Shannon Lucy. She recently spoke with me about the painting and how it relates to her overall practice. Read through excerpts of her comments about "Morning Prayer" below, and see the work in person at Wilder, 701 Taylor St., before it closes at 5 p.m. today.

"Morning Prayer," Shannon Lucy
I called it "Morning Prayer," but if I was going to title it today, it might be something else. I try to title the paintings as literally as possible. A lot of the paintings I've been doing have been self-portraits. I purposefully do not show features of my face — I've realized, over time, as I mature as an artist, that if I put myself so directly in my paintings with my facial features it becomes too personal. It feels self-indulgent and boring to other people. I only find that because I've come in contact with other art that's very me-me-me, and I like the response from people who still relate to it, or want to own it. Something that's a little more anonymous. So even though these are self-portraits, it's anonymous.
It's funny, because this particular painting is one that I posted on Instagram, and I had a friend recently comment on a photo that I took of myself in the same room — this painting is in my actual bedroom — and they're pretty realistically rendered. And I had a friend make a comment on this photo I took of myself sitting on my bed. He said, "It's so weird, this photo reminds me so much of your paintings!" And I thought, that's so bizarre! Because it is my room, and the paintings are of me on my bed. It felt like this futuristic backwards reference.
I think my style is realistic in the way that if you tell a joke, and it's very impulsive, that's real. I've been collecting images of women in awkward poses — breech-birth yoga positions — and I just copied it on my own in my room, as something to post on Instagram to be funny. And this came out, and I took a photo and just painted from the photo. So that's how real it is — I didn't embellish it.
The meaning is so relative, but that's what's so fun. I had this person say to me one time, "Your paintings are so uncomfortable." And then someone else said, "Oh my god, they're so funny." And then a third person said, “They're kind of dark, and violent.” And I thought wow, it's all of those things. And that's the human condition, isn't it? Overlapping feelings and emotions and reactions to this crazy world.
I never related to artists who had artists nights, who just doodle-draw. I'm much more structured — I'll have an idea, and I'll know in my head exactly what it's going to be, exactly what I need it to look like. And it doesn't really change. For me, it's a way to transmute. It saves me from myself. I think Susan Sontag says something about that, and it's true for me. If I just made these paintings for myself, it would be serving a very important purpose in my life. The showing, and sharing with my friends — all that's extra. It's like keeping my neuroses in a box. Here they are! Do you want to see? And I don't feel like I'm lying. To me, it's just intuitive.
Nerve is on view today at Wilder, 701 Taylor St., until 5 p.m. All the art in the exhibition is available through the Wilder website.