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An interview with: Irene Hardwicke Olivieri

In conversation with American fine artist & painter @lightseekingeyes


Born in South Texas and now residing in Northern New Mexico, Irene Hardwicke Olivieri's paintings often feature autobiographical texts handwritten across the surface of her work, alongside vivid surreal depictions of animals and natural forms, each element chosen with intention and layered with meaning. Her work has been exhibited at major venues such as the Jordan Schnitzer Museum and the New Britain Museum of American Art. Exploring themes of intimacy, solitude, mortality, wilderness, and spiritual connection to the natural world, Olivieri frequently paints on unconventional surfaces, including antique doors, driftwood, and reclaimed materials...


Unexpected Odyssey, 46″ x 60″, oil on panel, 2019
Unexpected Odyssey, 46″ x 60″, oil on panel, 2019
"An ongoing theme in my work is rewilding the heart, to inspire deeper connections to wild animals and wild lands. Many of my paintings are about love, obsessions; parts of life which are often subterranean." - irenehardwickeolivieri.com

Read on below for the full interview...

Still a tadpole already a frog, 24″ x 21.5″, oil on wood, 2003
Still a tadpole already a frog, 24″ x 21.5″, oil on wood, 2003

First of all how are you doing so far in 2025? where are you currently based and are there any ideas or emotions that are captivating you in recent times? 

Exciting things are happening!  We moved to a sagebrush covered mesa in northern New Mexico, near the edge of the Rio Grande River Gorge. We set up an off the grid system: solar panels, inverter and batteries. A while back we lived off the grid in Oregon so we had some experience; after living in several other places, we missed living way out and felt a deep longing for big sky, mountains, wilderness.

Disappearing by nature, 30″ x 43″, oil on wooden panel, 2021
Disappearing by nature, 30″ x 43″, oil on wooden panel, 2021
And in these precarious times within our country and our evil and dangerous president it feels good to live self sufficiently, completely independent from the US power grid, etc. Up here on the high mesa we see big horned sheep, elk, jackrabbits, coyotes, horned lizards and rattlesnakes way more than we see people.

a thousand wild creatures, 4’x6’, oil on clay board, 2020
a thousand wild creatures, 4’x6’, oil on clay board, 2020

What did you learn from your experience of living off grid in Oregon and did you find that liberating as an artist? 

Living off the grid has parallels with being an artist. You have to be like a giant solar panel, absorbing ideas and excitement all the time. Your brain is like the inverter, turning your ideas into art. You have to create your own battery pack, storing ideas and inspiration for later. There will be times where you are on fire with ideas, your imagination going wild. Save every idea you have, write everything down; store it up for the times when you may not feel creative.

Some kind of wilderness, 2010. Oil on panel, 57 x 57 inches
Some kind of wilderness, 2010. Oil on panel, 57 x 57 inches
To survive as an artist, you have to save all that stored up energy, those ideas waiting to go to your brain, the inverter, ready to leap back into your work and find the joy in creating.

Undercurrents, 50″ x 50″, oil on clayboard, 2015
Undercurrents, 50″ x 50″, oil on clayboard, 2015

Could you describe what 'rewilding the heart' means to you on a personal level and also in the context of your work? 

Rewilding the heart is an ongoing theme in my work;  I'm always hoping to reach deeper connections to wild animals and wild lands. When I'm not in my studio, I'm outside, hiking, exploring, seeking encounters with animals, birds, reptiles, insects. I think of rewilding the heart as more than just rewilding in terms of animals, but also in relationships.

Snake in the Greenhouse, 18″ x 24″, oil on clayboard, 2022
Snake in the Greenhouse, 18″ x 24″, oil on clayboard, 2022
Most of my paintings are on old wooden panels but I also create sculpture out of cholla cactus skeletons, porcupine quills and bones. I often think of how we each have a skeleton, a truly amazing living sculpture inside our bodies and its kind of sad that we will never get to see it. When I've lost people in my life who I can't bear to lose, it sparks something in me , a quickening, an intense desire to live each day as fully as I can, to burn brightly.

Supper for the spotted skunk, 24 x 24”, oil on clayboard, 2014
Supper for the spotted skunk, 24 x 24”, oil on clayboard, 2014
I always keep a picture of myself as a 6 year old in my studio, reminding myself not to let her down.  And I like to leap forward and imagine if I could talk to my skeleton after I'm dead. I wonder what my future self would say to me now. Are you doing what you really want in this life? Are you making the best use of your days? Do you owe someone an apology?...

I drop everything when I see, 55″ x 79″, oil on wood, 2009
I drop everything when I see, 55″ x 79″, oil on wood, 2009

Have psychedelic experiences informed any of your pieces or writing?

I've never taken psychedelics, I get such intense energy and excitement from ideas and making things that on most days I already feel like I'm about to take off and fly. And often I kind of fall into a trance working on my paintings. 

The Painter and her skeleton, 31 x 20”, oil on wood, 2019
The Painter and her skeleton, 31 x 20”, oil on wood, 2019
The exhilarating challenge of turning ideas or mysterious parts of life into artwork, or researching something that I've recently encountered and putting it into my own words, patterning tiny painted words over imagery as if inscribing the life of each complex creature into memory or an intense emotional experience into healing.

Studio of the Sea, oil on wooden panel, 30 x 49, 2019
Studio of the Sea, oil on wooden panel, 30 x 49, 2019
The layering in my paintings often feels like a laying on of hands. A way of conferring my intense passion and curiousity. I've always loved the parts of nature that are maligned or misunderstood. Right now I'm working on a painting about vultures. We must hold dear the lives of all species. 

Helpless October, 56 x 56, 2008
Helpless October, 56 x 56, 2008

What does Spirituality mean to you? 

I grew up on the southernmost border of Texas where my father was a farmer along the Rio Grande River. God and the natural world has always been my spirituality.  Now I live 1000 miles north along the river of my childhood, swimming in the same water I was baptised in when I was little.

Subterranean Family, Oil on Wood, 35x30 inches, 2013
Subterranean Family, Oil on Wood, 35x30 inches, 2013

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Discover more of Irene Hardwicke Olivieri's art via her:



- Astral Magazine

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