Self-Portraits Of An Uncomfortable World: An Interview With Vincent Arnold

Vincent Arnold’s paintings show people with pink skin, no necks, and mouths open, teeth bared.

The subjects are consumed by pop culture objects, preoccupied with a world run by AI and social media. Described as self-portraits, Arnold’s collection of characters is easy to recognize, channeling a vulnerability that’s both cathartic and unnerving to look at.

We spoke with the Sherbrooke-based artist about translating this anxiety into expression, diving into how his unique point of view reflects an uncomfortable world we all have to put up with.

Let’s start with something simple: what are you working on today?

Right now, I’m trying to translate my anxiety onto canvas, mostly driven by the rapid advancement of AI and our dependence on social media. I’m still hesitant to include more personal aspects of my life, especially in this “me, myself and I” era. On a technical level, I’m trying to let my brushwork come through more and to really own it. Sometimes I overwork certain areas and realize afterward that they were better before, which pushes me to look for a balance between control and spontaneity.

You’ve said in previous interviews that your figures are “self-portraits.” How did you arrive at these rich, colorful characters–especially the reds and purples–as your visual language? What makes them feel representative of you, both stylistically and emotionally?

I’d rather say that my characters have pink skin, but then again, isn’t pink just red mixed with white? haha. I’ve often had discussions with other artists, collectors, and gallerists, where I defend the idea that a work is inevitably tinted by the identity and personality of the person creating it. In a context where questions of cultural appropriation are increasingly present, I think it’s important to acknowledge that we can never fully understand someone else’s reality. So for me, these characters represent me simply because they come from me.

There’s a physical strain to your figures. Where does that come from?

I recently realized that my perception of my characters differs from the public’s: to me, they feel both uncomfortable and vulnerable. I think that physical tension comes from a worry I have about the world today and what’s coming next. There are also choices that are partly aesthetic: removing the neck to create a certain discomfort, keeping the mouth open as a kind of simplification so I don’t define the lips and accentuating the eyes to make them more endearing.

The proportions are noteworthy–some have large hands and small heads, while others are more realistically rendered. How do you decide what a body needs to convey?

When they’re more realistic, it’s usually because I’m referencing some element of popular culture and it’s never the main subject of the painting. I adjust my characters’ proportions according to the emotion and composition I’m after. For example, the size of the hands, face, or teeth helps guide the eye, balance the image and translate a specific feeling. In a way, like a photographer choosing to highlight one element while blurring the rest of the image, I distort my characters to make my intentions more precise.

Another interesting part of your work is breaking down ideas into a feeling, then building them back into these characters. How did this process evolve?

Every work starts with a feeling that comes over me. Then I quickly jot it down in my phone as text, while looking for a way to translate it visually. After that, the strongest idea gets roughly sketched in a small notebook. If that idea still feels relevant and keeps motivating me after a few days, I make several hand drawings that I later import into Photoshop. Finally, I reproduce the composition on canvas using a projector.

On that note, does the feeling you started with always shine through, or does your intention change as you work?

Rarely. When I start a painting, my feeling is very strong, so I try to stay true to it. As mentioned earlier, I create my compositions in Photoshop, which allows me to explore a wide range of ideas and compositions. I’m aware that some people might see that negatively and I sometimes feel that we idealize painters of the past too much, as if a contemporary painter using new technologies were somehow less legitimate because they don’t fit into that romanticized idea of painting. For me, these tools make it possible to quickly test out unusual ideas that I probably wouldn’t have dared to explore directly on the canvas.

That said, I don’t want my work to become illustrations that communicate an idea too precisely and impose my personal point of view. A quote from one of my favorite directors, Yorgos Lanthimos, really stayed with me because it reflects that intention: “It’s about posing questions and not giving answers. We can’t all have the same answers for everything.”

Do you feel like these characters live in a separate world from our own? If so, what is it like there?

I wouldn’t say they live in another world. For example, consumer objects help bring in familiar reference points and anchor the work in a specific time. The impression that they might come from another world probably comes from the distortion and style of my characters. Even so, like in The Simpsons or a science fiction film, these choices are made consciously in order to represent an idea more precisely.

Some of the work reads as being about identity through consumption–are these characters ‘trapped’ by the objects that consume them?

Studying and working in graphic design led me to understand that people’s personalities often come through in their consumer choices. I’ve had someone react negatively to one of my works because they felt like they were looking at some kind of billboard and I think that reaction is valid. Still, I hope it pushed them to question how present these brands are and how they influence their everyday lives.

What do you learn about yourself after your work is released?

I learn more during the making of the work than after it’s released. Often, in my paintings, there are very detailed sections that I enjoy because they take on an almost meditative quality. While painting, I often think about the original idea and the reasons I chose it instead of another one. Some people box to let off steam; I paint to let off steam. When the canvas is finished, I feel some kind of resolution and for me it’s a way of accepting aspects of society that seem senseless to me.

Finally, are there any upcoming projects or shows you wanted to share?

In a few months, I’ll have a group show. Still, my biggest project will be this winter, when I create a new Instagram account. I think some people probably believe I’ve stopped painting, since I haven’t been able to share stories or posts for several months, without really understanding why, even after a hundred requests to Meta. It’s a bit like the tree falling in the forest: if no one hears it, does it really make a sound? Am I really a painter if you don’t post my work on social media? Haha. Honestly, social media has never been a priority for me, but this new account is my way of going deeper into my work and improving on that side of things.