Meet Frances Matassa

We were lucky to catch up with Frances Matassa recently and have shared our conversation below.

Hi Frances , so excited to have you with us today, particularly to get your insight on a topic that comes up constantly in the community – overcoming creativity blocks. Any thoughts you can share with us?

I’ve found that experiencing creative blocks is pretty common for me; one moment, ideas flow effortlessly, and the next, they dry up completely. During these challenging times, I remind myself that it’s essential to produce a lot of ‘bad’ work to eventually create pieces I’m proud of.

I faced a particularly tough period of creative block after my first solo show. That year began with a loss in my family, and the combination of that loss and the pressure to produce gallery-worthy art led to a creative drought, making it difficult for me to enter the studio. To combat this, I decided to remove the pressure of creating meaningful work. Instead, I focused on painting for the sake of creation, allowing myself to explore without expectation.

Returning to my roots in this way helped me remember why I love painting — it’s a form of self-care that helps me manage my anxiety. Over about six months, I created several pieces purely because they were what I wanted to paint, without considering their significance. When I later reviewed the work I had produced, I discovered a natural through-line connecting the pieces. This insight allowed me to develop a mind map of emerging themes, which enabled me to create another 10-15 paintings with much more intention, building upon the ideas that had begun to materialize unconsciously.

Ultimately, embracing freedom in my creative process enabled me to break through the block and produce a cohesive body of work.

Great, so let’s take a few minutes and cover your story. What should folks know about you and what you do?

I’m Frances Matassa, a New York-based figurative painter born in Seattle in 1994. My artistic journey is deeply intertwined with personal experiences of dissociation and transformation, exploring the delicate balance between reality and the surreal in my work. Through dreamlike compositions, I depict figures navigating transitional landscapes that evoke a sense of unease and emotional resonance. I use a vivid, often unnatural color palette to heighten these sensations.

In my latest series, “When the Moon Turns Green,” I focus on the theme of homecoming. After periods of dissociation, my figures are depicted grounding themselves in the tactile world—lying in long grass, wading through murky waters, or softly glowing against twilight. Recurring motifs like glowing moths and symbolic insects embody transformation, decay, and memory, reflecting the characters’ journeys toward healing.

This series marks an evolution from my previous work, where figures existed within the confines of their dissociated fantasies. Now, they begin the deconstruction of that fantasy as they search for a sense of home. The transitional moments of dusk and dawn serve as a metaphor for this journey, capturing the fleeting clarity that arises from dissociation’s hazy fog.

Each element in my work—from the dragonflies symbolizing transformation to flies representing lingering trauma—serves to illustrate the complex layers of emotional experiences that shape our existence. The glowing moth, drawn to light yet at risk of disorientation, represents a yearning for connection and understanding. Ultimately, the path these figures travel leads them back to their bodies and to their own inner light.

I earned my BFA from Hunter College and debuted my second solo show, “When The Moon Turns Green,” at VillageOne Art in January 2025. My first solo show, “Embodiment,” was held in 2023, alongside various group exhibitions, including “Art is Gay” and the Volta Art Fair. My work has also been collected privately.

As I continue to create, I am excited to continue to explore personal narratives as well as more universal themes of how the body holds trauma. My art is a reminder of the intricate dance between disconnection and reconnection, inviting viewers to engage with their own journeys through sensory experiences and emotional landscapes.

I look forward to upcoming events and further developments in my artistic practice that will continue to explore these themes and connect with audiences in deeper ways.

If you had to pick three qualities that are most important to develop, which three would you say matter most?

Three qualities that have been especially impactful on my journey are self-motivation, a deep interest in art history, and the ability to find inspiration in anything—inside and outside the studio.

Self-motivation, for me, is closely tied to overcoming creative blocks. Being your own boss isn’t easy, especially while working full-time outside the studio. There are times when I struggle to treat painting and studio time like a job, but at the end of the day, that’s exactly what it is. Success requires putting in the hours—not just in the studio, but also in the “office.” Some days, that means working through a painting, completing a series, or problem-solving within the work itself. Other days, it’s about sitting at my computer, submitting to shows and residencies, responding to emails, or engaging with the art world in a more administrative way. I’m not always the best at maintaining that balance, but since I started treating it more like a structured job—with scheduled studio time and set “office hours”—self-motivation has become easier.

This discipline is also deeply connected to my love of art history and my ability to find inspiration in the everyday. I struggle to understand what I’m making and why without looking at the work that has come before me. Of course, I gravitate toward artists I admire—I’m obsessed with 16th-century Italian Baroque painting—but I also find fascination in all corners of art history. I love learning about the origins of pigments, why certain colors were more or less popular in different regions, and the recurring narratives that people are drawn to tell over and over. These details constantly inform the way I see my own work.

At the same time, inspiration isn’t limited to the studio or art history. Maybe I’m just justifying living my life outside the studio and calling it inspiration—but I’m constantly taking note of the world around me. I love walking in the park at dusk, watching how the trees blur into the hazy light. How the long, winter-dried grass rustles in the wind—how can you capture that sound in a painting? How light bounces differently on still versus moving water. Even something as simple as cooking dinner and having wine with friends in my apartment—the warmth and safety of those moments—feels like an experience within the body, which is ultimately what my work is about.

Another essential piece of my practice is color theory. Even a basic understanding of how colors interact—how complementary and contrasting colors create vibrancy and depth—can transform the way light is expressed in a painting. My knowledge of color theory shapes the way I build an image, adding another layer of intention to my work.

Ultimately, these three qualities—self-motivation, historical awareness, and an openness to inspiration—are all interconnected. They guide how I approach my practice, helping me push my work forward while staying rooted in a larger artistic conversation.

As for advice for those early in their artistic journey, I would say: find the thing that sparks your interest. For me, it’s art history and color theory, but whatever aspect of art-making you can really nerd out on—find that and dive deep into it. Let it be a focal point that keeps you engaged and motivated. Having that “micro” obsession gives you something concrete to hold onto in your practice.

And then, just as importantly, go out and live your life. Pay attention to the small moments, the everyday experiences that make you feel something. Let those feed into your work. The more you stay open to the world around you, the more your art will develop a sense of depth and connection—its own “macro” expression.

Before we go, any advice you can share with people who are feeling overwhelmed?

When I feel overwhelmed in the studio, I often think back to when I was getting my BFA at Hunter and had the chance to attend a studio visit with Amy Sillman. She’s a prolific artist whose work dances between abstraction and figuration, and her process is very intuitive and layered. One of the students asked about how she approaches her paintings, and she told us that she makes a “score” for her work.

Forgive me if I don’t remember every step exactly—it was a few years ago—but essentially, she lays out a sequence of steps for each painting, and the piece isn’t finished until every step has been completed. From what I recall, these steps included things like “find the pattern” or “add a color” or even something as drastic as “destroy” before making the final mark. I think about that often when I’m stuck on a piece. While I haven’t worked out a precise “score” for my own process yet, the idea of loosening up—of not being too tight or constricted within the canvas—has been really helpful.

I often have to remind myself: don’t be afraid of the canvas. If you make the wrong mark, you can always fix it. When I feel stuck, I try simple things to shift my perspective—turning the canvas upside down, glazing with a different color, or stepping away for a bit. Sometimes a painting is asking to be seen in a different way, and you have to be open to that. Those small shifts help me stay loose enough to make the marks I need to complete the piece.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.francesmatass.com
• Instagram: @francesmatassa