The creative process for an artist is always deeply personal, intimate, and unique to their practice. While we, as the viewing public, can experience the culmination of their art—the end result that captures, hopefully, their intention—rarely do we have the opportunity to peek behind the studio door and see how the art is made. 

For a glimpse into that world, we sought out three Louisiana artists who, in their work, each closely tap into one of the senses: hearing, smell, and sight. They answered questions about their creative processes and how they utilize their own bodies, often in unexpected ways, to generate something profound. 

Kim Meadowlark

Multi-Disciplinary Artist 

Baton Rouge

CR: Kim, you experience the neurological phenomenon known as synesthesia—wherein the activation of one sense triggers another. Tell us about your earliest memory of your synesthesia manifesting. 

KM: I remember when I was about ten years old, I was listening to Mazzy Star's album, So Tonight That I Might See. It was already such a heavy and deeply confusing time in my life, trying to navigate traumas with what little life experience I had.

I remember listening to this album that came out the year that I was born, and feeling a lot of clarity and peace. [There were these] deeply emotional lyrics that made me see so many calming colors, and brought me back to some type of center. I didn't really know what this experience was, but music always kept me calm and seen.

CR: Can you describe how you’ve translated synesthesia into your art practice? 

KM: For me, translating synesthesia into painting is less about creating something specific, but more about documenting an experience I've felt and seen through my senses. When I hear music and feel those emotions, it naturally arrives in my mind as a color or movement. My process starts by paying attention to those instinctive reactions to sound and acting on it.

"When I hear music and feel those emotions, it naturally arrives in my mind as a color or movement. My process starts by paying attention to those instinctive reactions to sound and acting on it."

—Kim Meadowlark 

CR: Can you share the kinds of music that help you get where you need to go when you paint? 

KM: I do feel heavy influence from composer Emile Mosseri's film scores, and artists like The Marias, Lana Del Rey, and Fleetwood Mac. 

CR: What makes sound a valuable perspective to capture within your art? 

KM: Sound gives me access to an entirely different layer of reality. One that isn't visual, but is still deeply emotional. When I hear sound, I feel like I'm absorbing the movement, the tempo, and the weight of what I'm hearing. It's the driving force behind the color and movement, but also can influence the little lines of poetry I'm writing in the paint layers. 

See (and hear) more of Meadowlark's work at kimmeadowlark.com. 

Manon Bellet

Scent Artist

New Orleans, via Switzerland 

CR: In recent years, your work as an artist has dealt in the realm of scent. What is one scent you have used in your artistic practice, and why do you return to it? 

MB: One of the first scents [I] identified was that of the earth near the bayou after a storm. The smell of “wet earth” after rain is called “petrichor.” It is produced by the release of geosmin (a compound generated by soil bacteria) and plant oils when raindrops strike dry ground.

This scent is universal; it evokes the smell of wet earth or rain for everyone who smells it. Yet, at the same time, it has a deeply personal dimension, as bodies of water and soils can vary considerably and be subject to very different climatic conditions. 

This scent was the first strong smell I physically experienced when I moved to New Orleans ten years ago. It was the catalyst for my olfactory project, on which I have been working since, named Golden Wastes.

CR: What is your fondest scent-memory link? 

MB: For years, right up until I was a teenager, my parents would make their own pizza every Sunday. They would make the dough themselves, and we would help them top it. It was always a ritual that I loved. It was always a large pizza, so we could share it with family or friends. The smell of that pizza baking in the oven has always been very comforting to me; it has stayed with me for many years and brings back peaceful memories of Sundays spent with my family.

"Scent affects the body on a different level than other modes of knowing the world. We can't smell something without becoming it a little, taking it into our bodies and being transformed in ways we don't fully understand." 

—Manon Bellet

CR: What makes scent a valuable perspective to capture in your art? 

MB: Scent affects the body on a different level than other modes of knowing the world. We can’t smell something without becoming it a little, taking it into our bodies and being transformed in ways we don’t fully understand.

Environmental change has a way of introducing often unwanted, unpleasant changes to long-established smellscapes that erode people’s sense of place and well-being. For my olfactory project, Golden Waste, I focused on this idea of scent as it relates to memories, place, change, and loss. We are all connected by the same air, the same water, and the same responsibility. What remains are the smells which, although invisible, produce memories in the form of vivid sensation and mutual representation. But also in cultural value. And I was not able to create that in any other technique I used to create other works.

CR: Can you describe your process in selecting and recreating specific scents for your art?

MB: I met with local residents, mainly fishermen, but not exclusively. Through these encounters, I compiled a database of scents associated with locations along the coast by using headspace technology. I sampled natural flora and fauna, water and soil, and sentimental objects of the people who lived there. Secondarily, in collaboration with Swiss perfumer Andreas Wilhelm, we synthesized the natural scents to create long-lasting concentrates. I decided to place the local population at the heart of my work.

Learn more about Bellet's work at manonbellet.com. 

Ben Depp

Photographer 

New Orleans 

CR: Your aerial photographs, taken above the coastal regions of the Gulf South via paraglider, are some of your best known works. What perspective does a camera—wielded from the clouds—provide that traditional photography can’t?

BD: The landscape here is flat, so the view from a boat or the ground in South Louisiana is often either open water or a wall of marsh grass. It’s hard to have perspective on how this landscape is changing. 

From an aerial point of view, I can observe how human engineering and natural forces (like hurricanes) are changing the coast. From the air, subtle changes appear more dramatic. For example, I can see how land is fragmenting apart and see sediment moving in the water as the coastline is washing away.

CR: How do you capture the perfect image while also navigating the practical maneuvers of flying a paraglider?

BD: I rarely set out to photograph anything specific. Instead, I spend hours in the air exploring along the coast, which allows me to find unexpected and incredible situations. For example: purple algae, clouds of mayflies backlit by morning sun, or flocks of pelicans making cool patterns in the water. When I see something I want to photograph, I drop some of my paraglider controls, pick up my camera (which is strapped onto my harness), and make photographs with one hand. I’m moving quickly, which keeps me from overthinking compositions and requires me to compose instinctively. I occasionally make a good photograph, but I also take a lot of bad ones that no one ever sees. 

"After months of being present in the marsh, I began to think of each clump of grass or texture in the water as part of the story of this place . . . My connection to the landscape informs what I notice and what I choose to photograph, even when I am hundreds of feet above it." 

—Ben Depp

CR: Best time of day to shoot your photos? 

BD: I depend on shadows to create depth in my photographs, so I usually fly around sunrise and sunset. When the sun is low on the horizon, rays of light rake across the marsh and create dark shadows that emphasize textures in the landscape.

CR: You’ve spent a lot of time camping in Louisiana’s wetlands while photographing them—how does that “up close and personal” experience juxtapose the “1,000 feet up in the air” perspective to create meaningful, powerful images?

BD: I sometimes camp in the marsh or on barrier islands for days at a time, waiting for the right weather conditions to be able to fly. While I wait, I literally watch the clouds go by. I have a lot of time to observe the natural world around me. This has made me much more appreciative of and sensitive to this landscape. After months of being present in the marsh, I begin to think of each clump of grass or texture in the water as part of the story of this place. There is no juxtaposition for me between being “up close and personal” and being in the air. My connection to the landscape informs what I notice and what I choose to photograph, even when I am hundreds of feet above it.  

Learn more about Depp's work at bendepp.com.