Multitalented. Multidimensional. Or, as her website proclaims, "Multidisciplinary Artist, Writer, Visionary." There's a reason it's hard to label Whitney L. Anderson.
Between her artwork, children's books, and forays into fashion, Whitney L. Anderson can't be strictly defined — not in her work, not in her person.
From vibrant cow and horse collages to spirit-infused pop culture paintings to her strikingly illustrated lesson-imbued children's books, this self-taught artist's work blends reverent realism with playful fantasy, intelligence with soul. Credit, in part, her upbringing for her curiosity and wisdom beyond her 36 years.
Whitney L. Anderson with her piece, Chief.
Born into a fourth-generation commercial fishing family in Alaska, Anderson grew up working on a boat with her dad every summer. She is part Alaskan Native of the Aleut tribe; her Finnish great-great-grandfather settled in the Aleutian Islands and married a Native woman. As a child, Anderson learned the Aleuts' ways, ate salmon every day, and loved the Indigenous Haida art she was exposed to. Starting at the tender age of 3, she discovered drawing, a quiet activity done in her own little corner oasis as a reprieve from the hard work on the boat. "That's kind of my nonglamorous beginning of my art journey," she says with her easy laugh.
The family eventually moved from Alaska to Seattle and then to Colorado. Every year, her mom took Whitney and her sisters out of school for a month to travel. Between the age of 9 and 15, she visited more than 40 countries. Her mother's "the world is a classroom," philosophy molded her, and she now attributes her multidisciplinary interests, subject matter, and mediums to her diverse experiences from that time.
But back then, Whitney was an accomplished athlete and had not yet viewed art as the focal point of her life. "It was little more than a good contrast to the high-octane life I lived as an athlete through college." For years, her life revolved around ski racing and a full-ride cross-country scholarship to Duke University. Everything changed when she sustained a serious injury and was forced to come face-to-face with her called. "I didn't choose art," she explains. "Art chose me."
Dolly Parton by Whitney L. Anderson
A fine arts degree and a world of hard knocks later, she settled in on her artwork — and her own way of doing it. "Everything I do is self-taught from my own mind and experience," Anderson says.
She's hard-pressed to pick a favorite medium. "It's like asking which is your favorite child. All of them are special in unique dimensional thinking. I have a fascination in several different, unrelated things." You're likely to find her drawing, illustrating, painting, writing, and working on her collages.
Anyone else might end up in traction after sitting on the floor, cross-legged, leaning over thousands of tiny pieces of paper, cutting, sorting, assembling, gluing, hour after hour, day after day. But it's the norm for Anderson as she painstakingly assembles her collages in her high-ceiling basement studio in Denver, where she makes her home while keeping her connection to Alaska every summer when she heads north to visit family.
People call it mosaic art — she prefers the term pixelated fine art. And, she adds, it's "pure collage — not multimedia — there is no painting involved in my collages." Her tools include glue sticks, scissors, magazines, a big piece of paper, and a podcast or music in the background while she works because the process can be "kind of monotonous." The results, though, are anything but. It might be a black-and-white portraits of a young Dolly Parton, Cindy Crawford, or Cassius Clay; a commission depicting a treasured racehorse or family pets; or a representation of a breaching whale. "It starts with an emotion or a thought — I think I'll do a cow today — and it just kind of takes me to a cozy place. I feel like I step outside of my current realm and go to another place. I get the idea, photography it on my phone, lightly sketch it on the background paper. Then I cut magazine pages into tiny pieces and sort colors and textures into piles. I call it controlled chaos. My brain is like high-speed Internet: It scans the photograph and picks up everything I need: colors, textures, shades, etc. and assembles the chaos. Mod Podge to seal."
Lunatic Fringe by Whitney L. Anderson
The finished collages can range from 24 x 36 inches to as large as 100 x 100, but most are typically 36 x 48. "Generally," Anderson says, "I thrive off creating larger works of art — I can incorporate details easier that way."
She has favorite subjects. "I've loved horses since I was a kid," she says. "It's my favorite land animal. Something about their spirits touches mine. I really admire horse people and that way of life. One of my first collages was of a horse. I've done dozens since then and have donated some of my horse artwork to various horse charities."
One of the highlights of her career as a Western artist was donating to a friend's charity. "Legacy of the West takes place at National Finals Rodeo. I created some very iconic livestock for that event: two famous bucking bulls in the rodeo world named Pearl Harbor and Bodacious and a famous bucking horse named Lunatic Fringe. I was also commissioned by Purina to do an 8-foot-by-8-foot horse portrait collage made out of Purina bags."
As for her cow artworks, "The cow represents the all-American animal — commercialized, but the heart of America," Anderson says. "They provide and symbolize so much. Americans are so removed from this animal that is so integral to their lives, and I wanted to elevate it to a fine art piece. It's really soothing for me to do a cow. In my dreams, maybe I'm a farm girl at heart. I feed those dreams through my art. It's very satisfying when I'm able to create that subject matter — I feel kind of like I'm living that life in a way."
It's a welcome refuge from a world full of distractions. "I find my solace in art," Anderson says. "What has compelled me to do all this is a melding of perfectionism with the old adage that adversities, challenges, and disappointments in life compel creatives to create even more. From time immemorial, some of the greatest works of art have been born out of pain, out of the valley. I've had a lot of heartbreak and disappointments in my life that, compounded with my perfectionism, have compelled me to create my art. 'The ripples you make today will be the waves you ride tomorrow' is something I wrote almost 10 years ago, and it's an idea that keeps me going."
Orca by Whitney L. Anderson
Visit Whitney L. Anderson on her site at whitneylanderson.com and on Instagram.
Header Image: Bodacious by Whitney L. Anderson
This article appeared in our May/June 2023 issue, available on newsstands now or through our C&I Shop.