Born in 1987 to a family that ran a screen-printing business in New Jersey, a young Jamian Juliano-Villani observed images’ ability to talk directly to people and decided to become a sign-maker herself. Foremost a painter, her sources range from discarded VHS tapes of summer camp to grocery store magazines. While original narratives sometimes persist, each painting starts with a feeling of discovery. A decade into her artistic career, and without quite knowing what she was doing, she opened the New York gallery O’Flaherty’s, which, besides putting on shows by Kim Dingle, Ashley Bickerton, Bobo, Donna Dennis, and Gelitin, has staged several experimental exhibitions: “The Cafe” (2023) set up a small restaurant within a late-summer group show to cultivate cafe-culture (long hangs at low prices), while the open-call installation “The Patriot” (2023) displayed the successes and failures of its fast and broad attempt at equality. Over the course of its three years and two moves within the East Village, O’Flaherty’s has been a success, critically as much as in terms of attendance. As with both genres of her work, Jamian is disarmingly candid in discussing new ideas, feelings, and opinions she doesn’t fully get: Understanding is a place of stagnation she’s not keen to get too caught up in.
The Talking, Feeling, and Doing Game, 2021, acrylic on canvas, 102 x 102 cm
Olive Street, 2023, acrylic on canvas with lights, 137 x 132 cm
Annie Pearlman: Over the ten-plus years I’ve known you, you’ve been very driven and not at all risk-averse. Plus, you’re very honest.
Jamian Juliano-Villani: Uh-huh, to a fault.
AP: When you’re really honest with yourself, about both yourself and the world that you see, I think it can naturally lead to pessimism over time, or at least to jadedness. And being driven and successful can make some people guarded or antisocial. But you are very social and very open.
JJ-V: Thank God! I can’t tell if I am. You know, you have to keep it positive. You can hate things and love things at the same time. My feelings are never one-sided.
AP: Exactly. And I think you have that work ethic where you just keep it moving.
JJ-V: Well, it’s kind of about athletic stuff. I was the cheer-leading mascot for my high school football team. They didn’t plan to have one, but they made an exception for me. I used to run fifteen miles a day, something like that, and I almost went to college for high hurdles and track and field, but I wanted to be an artist instead, so I moved to New York. I got jumped and haven’t run since then. Movement keeps me from stagnating. For instance, my painting Olive Street (2023) is about over-indulgent self-reflection. I try not to wade too long in that puddle, you know, because that’s when all the mosquitoes and stuff come ...
Gelitin, “O’Flaherty’s Gelatin O’Flattering,” 2023. Performance view, O’Flaherty’s, New York. Photo: Matt Jones, Stacie Joy
View of “The Café” (Merlin Carpenter, Sven Sachsalber, Catherine Murphey, George Segal, Brandon Ndife, Corey Arcangel, Josh Smith), O’Flaherty’s, New York, 2023. Photo: Todd Midler
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This text appears in full in Spike #80 – The State of the Arts under the title “Cracky Little Bitch Club.” You can buy your copy in our online shop.