Painting & Drawing
Amy Brewer-Davenport (American, b. 1989) is a working artist living in rural Tennessee. Their practice consists mainly of painting, but includes drawing, photography, writing, and mixed media. They have spent the last 5 years traveling the southeast to show work in sci-fi fantasy convention art shows.
They spent the mid-2000s working backstage for the local theater center, during which time they discovered a deep passion for the ability to create whimsical backgrounds.
Since 2018 they have been teaching painting workshops, both around their local community in Dunlap and in Chattanooga. They have begun adding mixed media workshops and collage workshops in 2022. Motivated by the recent and ongoing pandemic, they are also conducting plein air workshops.
They will receive their BFA from UTC in 2022.
In June of 2022, Brewer-Davenport will be joining the art show committee of LibertyCon, a sci-fi fantasy convention based on literature in its 34th year.
Later in 2022, Brewer-Davenport will be traveling to Canada for an artist residency outside of Banff National Forest. They are scheduled to create a mural and a small series of works concerning folklore, focusing on fantastical landscapes.
My interests and work consist primarily of fantasy, folklore, and history, and I mainly focus on the places where these overlap. My work in this enchanted forest series has been concerned with teasing out moments of human interaction within this space, and the glimpses we've nearly forgotten in those experiences, those encounters with the fantastic.
Growing up reading and watching fantasy and science fiction it was ingrained in me from a very early age that anything is possible. Now when I'm looking at nature, I wonder which of these mythological creatures that I've read about my whole life has been here before me. Which of them are just waiting to be invited in? Where did they come from? How did they get here?
Like in dreams, some of these moments are very clear, instances remembered in vivid detail framed in the gallery of your mind. Some of them are less focused, blurry or abstract like a nearly forgotten memory of a dream. The glimpse you thought you saw of something looking back at you in the crook of a tree, vanished before you could focus, the feather from a bird which has never been on this continent, the murder of crows that appear like witnesses. The people have always called them harbingers. These form the collage of my forest.
Like the tactility of the paint that I work with, memories are sometimes unfocused, sometimes so heavily textured there is almost no image to be seen, but like the brush strokes that signify an artist's hand, just the idea of a figure suggests there is indeed something there to be seen. The glistening cap of a mushroom peaking from beneath a tumbled log draws your attention for a fraction of an instant.
My intention is not necessarily to take the viewer through my thoughts and collected memories, but to invite them to investigate their own. To remember that flash of something mysterious caught out of the corner of an eye, that barely remembered figment.
So come wander through this Forest and see who you can find. Or who finds you.