Meet Emma Rose Laughlin

Today we’d like to introduce you to Emma Rose Laughlin.

Hi Emma, so excited to have you with us today. What can you tell us about your story? 
I’ve always had an immense love for this city. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt my art actually fit in. I grew up in the Bay Area, I got my BFA in Toronto, but I never felt truly at home until I lived in Los Angeles. 

After drawing and painting my whole life, I eventually discovered a fondness for embroidery. The process is self-taught and riddled with technical challenges, but despite this, I’ve been addicted to the medium for 13 years. Embroidering is such a meditative task, and the extremely tactile nature of its process is what appeals to me as an artist. The finished artwork is delicate and minimalist, but the process to get to that point involves a lot of violence. Sometimes, pins lead to pinpricks, and knots lead to holes. Bracing fragile fabric in a hoop can lead to hoop burns, floss can break, and needles can snap in half. But despite all of those challenges, this dichotomy is very important to my work. The look of embroidery may be gentle and delicate on the surface, but the tangled chaos residing underneath makes it feel like an authentic way to represent the complex and human subject matter I like to work with. 

We all face challenges, but looking back, would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
I was 25 when I first began to struggle with chronic pain. I took a break from stitching, changed jobs, and sought help from doctors. At first, hearing that all of your tests are coming back negative sounds like a relief, but after a year of trying out wrist braces, physical therapy, medications, and still being in pain, the term ‘relief’ is no longer appropriate. After that first year, the pain which had begun in my right hand was eventually present in both of my hands, arms, and feet. In trying to find a solution, a pattern began to emerge; after finding no relief with one doctor, I would find a new doctor, tell them my struggle, endure the same tests, and be told I was fine. Sometimes, a doctor would be sympathetic; other times, they would scold me like a child, but more often than not, I’d simply be met with indifference. 

It’s been almost ten years since my chronic pain began, and throughout this time, my identity as an artist has been challenged immensely. There have been many instances where I retreat from the art world entirely. It’s beautiful to live in a city that’s alive with artists, but it can also be incredibly isolating. I’ve always kept my struggle to myself, too worried that any mention of my pain could cause colleagues to hesitate reaching out to me with gallery opportunities. I’m afraid people I respect and admire will judge me the same way some of those doctors did. 

Invisible pain can be very insidious, and I’ve always feared alluding to any aspect of it would automatically be some sort of surrender of my autonomy, like I’m allowing the pain to win. But it is a part of my identity, and I don’t have to necessarily view accepting that as a flaw. 

I’m trying to think of myself like how I think about my embroidery work – all the tangles and knots that exist behind each of my pieces may not be beautiful, but that chaos is necessary to my artistic process. My artwork wouldn’t be able to exist without it. Of course, there’s a part of me that wishes I was a better planner and didn’t cause so many tangled and knotted obstacles in the back of my pieces, but it’s the process of stitching that brings me such joy. The tactile nature of the materials building up on themselves, the introspective state I achieve as I hyperfixate on certain areas, these moments are my bliss. Any time I’ve tried to switch up my technique to lessen the chances of obstacles, I inevitably end up reverting back to what I find most comfortable for me, flaws and all. 

In the context of my artmaking, I find this dichotomy so forgivable, so I’m trying to be just as forgiving to myself as an artist dealing with chronic pain. Would it be cool if I didn’t have to deal with this pain while pursuing a career in the art? Yes, absolutely, but the fact that I do doesn’t diminish my identity as an artist. This pain exists; it is my constant companion, but it’s only one part of what makes me me. 

Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
I am an embroidery artist who specializes in portraiture. I gravitate towards materials that invoke femininity, like lace handkerchiefs and pearls. The relationship between the erotic subject matter of my art and the medium of embroidery is one of the foundational elements of the work that I do. My pieces appear gentle and decorative at first glance despite their true carnal nature. I’m best known for stitching portraits of porn stars, and I’ve shown my work in multiple different group shows and galleries over the years. 

Alright, so before we go, can you talk to us a bit about how people can work with you, collaborate with you, or support you?
If you’re interested in what I do, feel free to follow me on Instagram @emmaroselaughlin 

Contact Info:

• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/emmaroselaughlin/

Image Credits
Jessica Ross