From the exterior, Carol Coates’ home studio appears little different from its neighbors, with its Spanish-tiled roof, stucco walls and palm-laden yard. Inside, though, canvases burst with color at every turn, wood and bovine bone sculptures from her Markmaking series fill the corners of her living room, and plaster monkeys dangle from walls, clinging to Edison bulbs.
The small-framed, soft-spoken artist greets me with fresh cookies and peach-pear iced tea. Some of the works displayed are hers; others are by her husband, Thomas Roth, a Scandinavian abstract minimalist who honed his skills as an advertising art director during the Mad Men era. The couple uses the kitchen/dining room as a shared studio space, bouncing ideas back and forth but never encroaching on the other’s artistic vision.
Several pieces from Coates’ Contact series, a collection of multimedia works inspired by her daughter’s dance troupe, hang along the walls. Coates photographed the group’s contact improv jam, where one dancer’s touch prompts the other’s spontaneous movement, creating an ad-libbed duet. “It’s a microcosm of a relationship. I watched so many different pairs developing so many different relationships in that session,” Coates says. “I just sat there in tears.”
Coates caresses the rippling dots of paint and perforated mesh that add depth to a piece from her Contact series. A semi-transparent mesh is stretched 2 inches above the illuminated painting, creating a hazy, ethereal effect.
OMAR CRUZ
Epilogue by Carol Coates (2009)
Epilogue by Carol Coates (2009)
In contrast to the nude forms twisting gracefully beneath, the mesh surface is coarse, fragile and flexible to the touch, like a fisherman’s net worn thin under layers of saltwater. Each element references the decisions, conscious and unconscious, that impact our relationships. The use of nudity represents the terror and ecstasy of being vulnerable with another person. The juxtaposition of smooth and jagged textures speaks to the duality of relationships and how pain can be distorted into beauty by an outside observer.
When we first meet, Coates swirls her drink nervously. She speaks of growing up feeling out of place in a conservative Michigan community; finding a community of like-minded creatives in Santa Fe; and stepping into her own for the first time in the early ’80s with a fashion sense straight out of Berlin. Throughout much of her life, Coates felt the weight of others’ assumptions and channeled her loneliness into art. Raw depictions of subjects tethered, nude or disembodied exemplify feelings of isolation, desperation and anger in her earlier works. Her later works show subjects embodying their physical, cultural or gender differences proudly.
As our conversation unfolds, a clearer picture of Coates emerges. Her cautious, demure demeanor belies something sharp, clever and provocative—a firebrand cloaked in courtesy. “I have a wicked sense of humor,” she says, gesturing to a 34-by-48-inch piece in the corner of her kitchen studio. Part of Coates’ MindsEye series, MindsEye V depicts a geisha with a bee on her forehead and iguana eyes peering out from behind avant-garde glasses. “The whole idea of the geisha is to be proper and calm and controlled all the time—very feminine,” she says. “The question becomes, ‘What’s she gonna do?’ You know? Does she, in fact, have a reptilian tongue?” A mischievous smile creeps across Coates’ face.
The series, amalgamated from photography, acrylic and oil paint and metalwork, explores themes of perception. “I’ve always been interested in how we filter what we see through our beliefs and expectations,” she says. Each subject in the collection of real and imagined portraits wears glasses fashioned from scrap metal. Coates first smithed the glasses as a way to physically connect with her work during a creative block. Pleased but not satisfied with the result, she began to transpose images of the frames onto a diverse array of subjects.
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Photography by Omar Cruz
From pieces like Epilogue (2009) (above, from her Contact series) to her prolific MindsEye series, Carol Coates’ canvases focus on themes of identity, perception and interpersonal relationships.
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OMAR CRUZ
MindsEye XVI (2023), a mixed-race child is depicted in stark black and white. The artist’s work calls for empathy and acceptance.
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Photography by Omar Cruz
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Photography by Omar Cruz
Coates’ MindsEye series is intentionally confrontational. As you observe the work, it observes you. Scrap metal spectacles form a through line, signifying how our experiences, beliefs and expectations impact how we see the world.
The metal frames create a direct metaphor: The subject has a lens based on their life experiences, just as the viewer’s biases impact how they see the piece—and the world around them. Hyper-realistic elements often align with the stereotypical views of the subject and surrealist details that speak to their true identity or personality. The geisha’s reptilian eyes subvert expectations of the subservient woman and reflect an unknowable inner truth. “What goes on in our heads when we encounter someone who presents differently?” Coates posits.
Coates frequently exhibits at Fort Myers’ Alliance for the Arts, and her work can be seen in galleries nationwide. Each of her six ongoing series (Contact, Markmaking, Perception, Dissonance, MindsEye and Beginnings) deals with identity, perception and personal bias, and calls for empathy and acceptance.
At times, Coates’ use of nudity and diverse subjects has positioned her in the crosshairs of criticism. MindsEye XII depicts a character with dangling earrings and a fruit-laden headdress. The subject is not based on a real person but has the appearance of a woman with Down syndrome. Coates submitted the piece for display at a local gallery, but the curator worried that viewers would think the gallery and artist were mocking the disability and refused to show the work. “I think she’s joyful and brings joy to anyone who sees her,” Coates says, noting that she aims to raise her subjects above their perceived limitations. Curious, Coates presented the piece to local Down syndrome organizations. “They have embraced her,” Coates says. The nonprofit, Additional Needs, will receive 20 percent of the proceeds for the multimedia piece.
The MindsEye series is challenging by design. As you observe the work, it observes you, asking questions but offering no answers. The subjects are not portrayed in subjugated or otherwise restricted environments. Instead, they gaze out at the viewer with a confident, knowing expression.
“[Growing up,] I knew that I didn’t fit,” she says. “I really received messages that I wasn’t OK because of who I was. I was always too sensitive. I was too slow. I wasn’t creative.” In 2022, Coates self-published a children’s book based on MindsEye. She still considers the project a work in progress. Each page shows a piece from the series paired with a question like, “What do you think her name is?” or “What is his favorite food?” The final page has a mirror, encouraging the child to apply the process to themselves. Who are they and who could they become without the limits of societal expectations?