Camille Kouyoumdjian at work in her studio

CAMILLE KOUYOUMDJIAN is a mixed media artist exploring the dialogue between humanity and the natural world—how we alter it, depend on it, and find our place within it. Her work reflects a fascination with the quiet rhythms that shape our surroundings: the layering of rock, the pull of tides, the shifting light across the horizon. Now based on the coast of Maine, Kouyoumdjian draws daily inspiration from the landscape around her.

This spring, we spoke with Camille about her creative practice. Our conversation ranged from the role of ecology and sustainability in her work, to her experience painting from both memory and place, to the way her background in horticulture, public health, food education, and international development all inform and filter into the work itself. Read on for excerpts from that conversation.

BLUE RAVEN GALLERY

As an entry point for our conversation, could you distill how you think about your current creative practice into a few sentences?

CAMILLE KOUYOUMDJIAN

My work is really rooted in observing and translating landscape as a living, layered system rather than a static view. So I build surfaces through accumulation, and I pay attention to erosion and revision, and all of that is reflected in my work. I add and subtract, kind of mirroring the geological and ecological processes. So the paintings really become a space where it's a combination of memory, place, and material all interacting. 

BRG

When I look at your paintings, that ecological tie is so distinct. Your use of memory seems almost like erosion itself—almost an echo or a shadow of what was there before, and another way of exploring the processes that the earth goes through. I would love to hear more about your thoughts on memory as part of your practice. 

CK

It’s a big part of my practice, because my practice really begins with being outdoors. I've always been an outdoor lover, and I think that's what drove me to paint to begin with. The memory part comes in when I come back from having experienced nature on a very sensory level outdoors, and then I translate that into the work. And that is all intuitive memory—it's a very intuitive process. Sometimes I start with a photograph I've taken, just to get me going. But I don't really stick to that; I really look at the painting itself and see how it's evolving. I feel like it's stored somewhere in the back of my mind, because if I paint in Maine and then I go to California, I can see how the work has shifted according to the view of the landscape that I was immediately in. 

BRG

Having a memory of one physical landscape and working at that painting from another location is so interesting. What does that shift look like? Do you find pieces of California threaded into compositions that began from a memory of Maine, and vice versa?

CK

Yeah, it's really funny. I’m in California for a few months because my daughter is out here in college. So I brought a lot of things that I wanted to revise with me, and they were started in Maine, and they looked kind of like Maine. But since I've been working out here, and I'm outside all the time, it's definitely California coming to the forefront. 

Camille Kouyoumdjian

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BRG

You touched on this a bit already, but I'm curious—what caught your attention initially about painting and working with mixed media? What continues to hold your attention? 

CK

I'm really drawn to painting for its ability to hold ambiguity. Where something can feel both physical and atmospheric at once. The mixed media helps me expand that language: it allows me to construct surfaces rather than just depicting them. And the sustainability aspect, it's not an add-on. It's embedded into how I think about the material.

BRG

Would you elaborate on that? Your work with the reclaimed fibers and the natural pigments, and generally how sustainability is so interwoven into your practice, is fascinating. 

CK

Using the wax and fibers and handmade collage papers and some of the pigments creates a direct continuity between the subject and the substance. So the materials themselves carry a history of use and decay and transformation, which parallels the environmental narratives that I'm exploring. It sort of introduces an unpredictability that I value. 

BRG

Do you find that you have any influences or anti-influences on your work? Obviously, the natural world is going to show up there for you, but I'm curious as well about other artists or movements.

Camille Kouyoumdjian

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CK

Sure. I like artists who treat the landscape as experiential rather than descriptive. So I love Joan Eardley. I like a lot of the Canadian painters—there's a group of seven Canadian painters who are very much outdoors-oriented, and I feel like their process reflects mine: they're outside, and then they come in and paint. Tom Thomson. And, of course, the Hudsonian painters. And where I live in Maine—Blue Hill, that whole center of artistic excellence right there. 

I'm also drawn to painters that really break out of the mold. I'm fascinated by the process of doing something entirely different than what's been done before. And even if they are a different style than the way in which I paint, I’m inspired by them for having the courage to not conform, and just be who they are, and break the mold. I feel like a lot of painters are driven to paint and give up a lot in their life in order to do that. I haven't exactly done that—I still value my family life and everything else—but I’m inspired by that.

BRG

The way that you're painting, Camille—working with mixed media, and working in an intentionally sustainable way—that feels like an act of like small rebellion or resistance in itself. So many of these materials that we use in painting are harmful, heavy metals and chemicals that are dangerous for the environment. Have you come up against challenges with working the way that you are? Has sustainability always been centered in your practice, or if this was something you grew into?

CK

Thank you. A lot of both—I began painting traditionally with acrylics and oils, and it was immediately apparent to me that I was using way too many paper towels. And then how to dispose of that water, that dirty water with the paint, you know? You can't pour it down the drain. And so I spent a lot of time researching how to dispose, in an environmental way, of these things, this this toxic stuff I was creating. I still feel really guilty about it often. But I’ve developed my own way, and I continue to explore how to prevent all that stuff from going into the watershed, especially where I live in Maine on the water.

Then I started using things from nature, trying to extract pigments that wouldn't be harmful to the environment, and incorporate them in a way that is archival. And that's the real challenge, once you're using those materials and you want to create a painting that somebody might want to hang in their home—or that I may just want to keep for posterity. Now, I know some artists who will paint with the knowledge that their paintings won't last forever, and that's part of the process. Some of the things I create I’m okay with that happening, but other things I’d like to preserve. So it’s a real balance. It’s a balance in the substance I use and the amount of preservation I want in the work. And sometimes I do have to use those things that are somewhat toxic, but I try my best to reduce the amount of that that I use, and just use it as minimally as possible. 

Camille Kouyoumdjian

Great Harbor

Acrylic and Mixed Media on Panel, 24" x 36"

25.25" x 37.25" Framed

BRG

Can you tell me more about the natural pigments? Do you ever go out and make your own paints that you work with? 

CK

I wouldn't say I make my own paints, per se. I use as many natural dyes as I can by creating my own recipe for plant colors that I can extract. But I do have a residency coming up in Peru in the Sacred Valley, and part of my residency involves studying with a group of Indigenous people who create their own dyes from nature. I'm so excited. I'm hoping to really learn a lot more about that. 

BRG

Oh, I'm thrilled for you! That sounds like it will be incredibly informative. On that note, what are you working on right now? Is there anything you can share?

CK

I'm continuing to develop the Tidal Realms series, because it's sort of a coast-to-coast theme, particularly the interplay of land and water and atmosphere. The work is becoming more reductive with a strong emphasis on spatial depth and quieter transitions. I’m paying attention to dawn and dusk, and those times when the light is just incredible, and trying to, you know, create a sense of quiet places in the work. 

BRG

I read on your website that you consider your works to be a dialogue between humanity and the natural world. Could you elaborate on that conversation? 

CK

Ecology for me is about interdependence. So how systems evolve through constant interaction—and I would include human interaction as a major part of that. You know, we inhabit the earth, we’re obviously impacting it, and it impacts us. Through the layering, and obscuring, and revealing—where there's no single dominating mark and everything is contingent on what surrounds it—I try to represent the climate, the erosion, the human presence, and how a painting can echo that complexity without illustrating it directly. 

BRG

That’s a beautiful sentiment: a painting echoing the complexity without directly illustrating it. 

I’m looking right now at Schoodic Skylight, which does feel more representational to me—it’s recognizable as a coastline. But then I look at something like Luminous Shore or Great Harbor, and while I get the feeling that I’m looking at a coast—a familiar space—they also hold a kind of ethereal quality, almost working into abstraction. It opens up a lot, I think, for my own memory and interests to be playing around. And I love that airiness that you give it. How does the play between abstract and representational elements work in your paintings? They feel so harmonious, very much like small ecosystems, the way you've been describing—so how do you navigate that balance between abstraction and representation?

CK

Well, I'm really glad you said that, that the more abstract pieces allow you to enter the work in a way. That's really my goal, for other people to enter the work and find their own place, and—you know—maybe recall something that they experienced. 

It’s a balance because I feel like I'm never going to be able to replicate the beauty that I see around me. I would prefer that it remain that: that it remain nature. For me, representation kind of emerges and then dissolves, so I have a loose sense of place. That one piece there, Schoodic Skylight. Yes, that’s more representational. Sometimes I play with that, and go back and forth, but that's not one specific site. I think that the balance comes from allowing the recognizable elements, like the horizon or a geological mass, to anchor the viewer while keeping the surface open enough that it doesn't completely resolve. I really want the viewer to move between reading the work as a landscape and experiencing it as material.

BRG

Listening to you speak just now about wanting to keep the surface open enough to not be completely resolved, the materiality and energy in that, I wonder—how do decide that a work is fully resolved? When keeping some of it open and loose is important and integral to it in itself?

CK

Yeah, that's the ultimate question. 

BRG

I know—I'm so sorry.

CK

No, no, no, it’s okay. When is it done, right? You know, I can't really pinpoint it. It's kind of just a feeling where I look at it. I have to sometimes force myself to put it away in a closet and not look at it. Seriously though! Because then you get too attached, and you’re no longer objective about your own work. So often I put stuff away for even up to six months, and then I pull it out again and it's immediately apparent to me, ‘Oh that's not working,’ so then I'll go back. Sometimes I just need to stop looking at it and come back to it, and then I can see clearly, ‘Oh, yes, this area needs to be resolved.’ 

And then, of course, there are technical specifications that you're supposed to follow—the rules of three, et cetera, et cetera. In the end I do check that. I check, is it working? And I'm continuing to read and educate myself about how to resolve a painting. I’m trying not to get too stuck on those rules, but keeping them in the back of my mind. I do get the sense sometimes—‘Oh this really isn't working’—and if I can't pinpoint why, then I put it away, and when I pull it out later, I can be a little more objective and figure it out.

Camille Kouyoumdjian

Luminous Shore

Acrylic and Mixed Media on Paper, 18" x 24"

20.25" x 26.25" Framed

Camille Kouyoumdjian

Schoodic Skylight

Acrylic and Mixed Media on Paper, 22" x 30"

30.75" x 38.5" Framed

BRG

I understand that you have professional experience in public health and food education and horticulture. Does that play an active role in your artistic work? And if so, what kind of role does it have? 

CK

Yeah, absolutely. And I would add into that that I have a Master's degree in International Development, which is really studying different cultures, and how to respond to other cultures in a way that puts them at the forefront of any sort of public health intervention. Traditionally a more developed country would come in and suggest a system or approach that doesn’t always take the Indigenous perspective into account, which I think is old-fashioned thinking. Now we really want to rely on Indigenous people to make their own decisions and educate us in better ways of preserving the earth. So that's come full circle. And to get back to the question—all of my educational background has helped me see cycles of growth and decay and regeneration. From growing things, and my focus on horticulture and pollinators, to public health and nutrition, I think that all plays a role in my current thinking about growth and regeneration in my paintings. It’s my accumulated knowledge through life experience that plays a role.

Part of my residency in Peru is about observing and learning from Indigenous culture, and I think that will play into all of my background, and my art, even if it's not directly related to creating art. Approaching the surface like a full ecosystem with each layer, and knowing that nothing exists in isolation, really comes from my background. 

BRG

Your practice is so intersectional, this all makes sense. 

I find myself constantly curious about other artist’s studio practices—the little habits and rituals that we cling to, whether that is only working first thing in the morning, or meditating before you enter the work, or brewing a specific pot of tea before a session. Do you have any such rituals or habits for yourself and your painting?

CK

It took me a while to understand my own timing throughout the day, because I did have a career in the federal government before I was a painter, which was very traditional. You get up in the morning, you go to an office, you sit behind a desk. When I left that job and devoted myself to becoming a full-time artist, I really had to create that structure for myself. I would often feel guilty if I didn't get up at the same time every day and immediately go to work. I read an article by another artist who said that that's okay. That fifty percent of our time, if not more, is devoted to the business side of art—creating the website, and managing the taxes, and all the other stuff. The not fun, not artist stuff. So much of our time goes into that, and I would start to feel really pulled away from the work itself, but then I realized that I needed to carve out that time. And for me, I need structure. I felt like in the morning my brain was more ready to do that business side of things, so I get up early and I devote myself to business for a couple of hours. And then I really need to separate from that, so I always go outdoors and do something after that. And, typically, I work on art after lunch until the light is really bad. 

That’s what works for me—it's a physical and iterative process when I begin the work. I have to take a brain break after doing that business side of things—to do that I go out, and I’m physical, and I’m interacting with the environment. And then I feel fresh and I come back to the studio, and I can work. I need quiet. I’m pretty introverted, so I need quiet surroundings.

Camille Kouyoumdjian

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BRG

Camille, thank you so much for your generosity and insight into your practice today. We're wrapping up now, and this is hopefully a fun question to end with: if you were to find yourself at a dinner party full of artists, both living and dead, who would you like to have seated beside you? And is there anything that you'd like to say to them or ask?

CK

Okay, so this is a fun question—I actually spent more time thinking about this question than any of your other questions. I came to the conclusion that some of the artists I admire most are not people I'd want to meet. There are artists whose work I love and I might want to meet, like Joan Eardley, and a lot of the Ninth Street women—I’d be fascinated to meet them and talk to them. But there's also some other artists who are just complete jerks. A lot of them are the men, right? You know, Jackson Pollock—I mean a complete jerk, but he broke out, you know? He broke out. And Picasso. These people just broke the mold in crazy ways. Or Grace Hartigan. She left her young child and went to New York to paint. I can't say I admire that, but I admire her drive, and I'd like to talk to her and get a sense of how she felt about all that. But the person I'd want to sit down to at dinner, honestly, Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

Someone once asked her if she chose a different path in life, what would it be? And she said, ‘I'd be a great diva.’ I just love that. I feel like I can relate to that, because I was a Fed. I felt like I was doing good things in the world with public health, I felt like I was helping people, and I can see how Ruth Bader Ginsburg probably felt like she was doing good things. But if she wanted to be a great diva—look, we don't have all that talent, not all of us. I'm no Grace Hartigan, but I love art and I love creating art. So I respect that. And I respect that Ruth Bader Ginsburg balanced her work and her family. Her whole heritage. So that's the person I would admire most and want to talk to.

Camille Kouyoumdjian

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CAMILLE KOUYOUMDJIAN is a mixed media artist based in Maine and California, represented by Blue Raven Gallery.

MORGANNE ELKINS is a painter and writer from Midcoast Maine. She serves as Blue Raven Gallery's editor and artist liaison.