<![CDATA[UT Studio Visit]]>https://www.utstudiovisit.comhttps://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!BkV5!,w_256,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8120021a-0f3a-447d-aeee-6b4980673568_1280x1280.pngUT Studio Visithttps://www.utstudiovisit.comSubstackThu, 13 Aug 2026 16:13:12 GMT<![CDATA[Snails Under the Moon]]>https://www.utstudiovisit.com/p/snails-under-the-moonhttps://www.utstudiovisit.com/p/snails-under-the-moonMon, 10 Aug 2026 17:11:37 GMTMost days I water our rosemary plant outside in the morning, and when the water seeps from the bottom of the pot sometimes I get a special treat: snail tracks left behind from tiny ancient visitors, visible only once the water beads up around the paths they’ve travelled. I’ve idly wondered if you could make a trail of some kind of snail snacks for them to follow to guide them into slowly writing words, visible only immediately afterwards or with water, their tracks the original invisible ink.

Snail tracks revealed by water

Serendipitously, Brooklynn Johnson, the artist I’m writing about this month, recently made a beautiful painting titled Snails Under the Moon (see it in this email). There are many bizarre and interesting things about snails, but my knowledge until recently was mostly limited to trying to avoid stepping on them while running and feeling guilty about not helping my son care for the snail terrarium we bought him for Christmas (it became a deathtrap for maybe 30 snails…twice). It might be short-sighted of me to think about making snails write words, since there may be a deeper meaning to their paths that I’m unaware of. Regardless, there is no sound or feeling worse than the crunch of a snail underfoot.

Thanks for reading UT Studio Visit! Subscribe for free or keep scrolling to continue reading :)

Studio snack & song 002

Outshine Lime Fruit Bar

(also on Apple Music)

Conversation with Brooklynn Johnson

What made you want to be an artist?

I recently read this Italo Calvino story called Love Far from Home, and there’s a passage in the story that resonates in regards to this question:

“When I was a boy…everything was a strange symbol, the spacing of the dates hanging from the tufts on the stalks, the crooked arms of the cactuses, the strange patterns in the gravel of the paths. Then there were the grown-ups, whose job it was to deal with things, real things. All I had to do was discover new symbols, new meanings. I've stayed that way my whole life, I still live in a castle of meanings, not things, I still depend on the others, the ‘grown-ups’, the ones who handle things.” - Italo Calvino

This quote does have a very self indulgent edge, but I relate to the way the narrator is distracted by this world under the surface, asking “why” and “how” about broader questions and struggling to just “do the thing”. There’s this compulsion to draw connections between things to make meaning. But the truth is, also, that as a very small child I just couldn’t stop drawing. My mom would read me a book or I’d watch a movie and I would just want to draw every scene that came to my head with every character and detail. Then I would make up stories from those and spin them into this new thing. I just loved creating–I was also that way as a teenager, and when I was going to college I knew I wanted to apply to an art program. I just couldn’t really see any other way to be from a young age.

Snails Under the Moon, 9"x12", 2026

What spaces do you work on art in?

This summer I’ve been trying to paint outside more. I also have a room in my house that functions as my studio.

Brooklynn Johnson’s studio at 4:40PM MDT, 8.6.26

What kind of materials do you use when you paint outside? Are you hauling oil painting stuff with you?

I haven’t used oils to paint outside quite yet. Instead I’ve been using golden slow drying acrylics on those occasions, sometimes acrylic gouache, and am trying to figure those out. I'm not very good with acrylics. I want to relearn how to use them after working in oil for so long.

Moon Garden, Brooklynn Johnson (courtesy of Anna Jube)

This is part 2 of 5 of Brooklynn’s studio visit—read part 3 next week and be sure to follow Brooklynn on Instagram or visit her website to see more.

Artist bio

Brooklynn Johnson is an artist and educator working across multimedia painting, sculpture, and performance. She received an MFA from the University of California, Davis, and has participated in residencies including Casa Lu in Mexico City, Ali Yousefi Projects in Sacramento, and most recently, the Artist in Residence program at the Utah Museum of Contemporary Art. Her work has been shown in California, Oregon, New York, Utah, Washington, and Mexico City. Based in Salt Lake City, Brooklynn teaches children’s art classes through Summer Squash Studio and oil painting at Weber State University.

Brooklynn Johnson in her studio

Artist statement

When I paint, I pull imagery from a personal lexicon of symbols. Shells, plant forms, hearts, volcanoes, and infinity signs emerge as familiar anchor points, each carrying layers of memory and meaning. As compositions develop, these images overlap, change color, stretch apart, and become hybrids. The resulting forms are mere suggestions of what they once were.

Like collecting fragments from sand, painting becomes an act of interpreting a whole that can no longer be seen in its original form. The paintings are an attempt to understand what remains when familiar things change, and to observe the new connections, meanings and messages that emerge when their edges blur.

Thanks for reading UT Studio Visit! Subscribe below for free.

Things I’m excited about:

]]><![CDATA[The Moon in Bethulia]]>https://www.utstudiovisit.com/p/the-moon-in-bethuliahttps://www.utstudiovisit.com/p/the-moon-in-bethuliaMon, 03 Aug 2026 17:11:22 GMTMuch of Utah used to be underwater. The Great Salt Lake is a remnant of Lake Bonneville, which at one point spanned 20,000 square miles and eventually receded to become the salty waters of our beloved Great Salt Lake. Red horn coral thrived in Utah waters long before Lake Bonneville (330 million years ago, approximately), and fossilized pieces of it are only found here and in Italy. I recently made a ring with my dad using a piece of coral from my great-great grandfather Amasa Merlin Steed’s collection.

Argentium silver & red horn coral

I love the way the organic lines of the coral match the wrinkles on my hands. It’s a beautiful and strangely comforting memento mori (reminder of death), a witness of the ever-changing nature of life on Earth. Looking at the ring makes me wonder if in 330 million years someone could be wearing a ring with a fossilized piece of me; while humans can fossilize, it’s extremely rare. In the 70’s, human skeletons were found in La Sal, Utah, that, while not fossilized, had been stained a nice turquoise color by malachite and copper.

Thanks for reading UT Studio Visit! Subscribe for free or just keep reading :)

A photo from the 70’s of a human skeleton stained by copper and malachite
A rodent skull also stained by malachite

Since becoming a fossil might be too lofty a goal, maybe my skeleton being stained by malachite is the best I can hope for.

Somehow, fossilized coral and malachite-stained skeletons don’t feel dissimilar to Brooklynn Johnson’s art: the organic lines, the dried out colors, and the just-out-of-reach logic of forms that echo something natural and ancient that is slowly and constantly transforming.

UT Studio Visit 001: Brooklynn Johnson

I’ve known Brooklynn since I was 15, when she was a student on a study abroad program my dad led in London and I was a quietly angsty wannabe skater. The title of this newsletter comes from a piece I bought a few years ago (seen in this email) so grab a studio snack, put on some good tunes (suggestions for both courtesy of Brooklynn), and read on.

Brooklynn Johnson in her studio

Artist bio

Brooklynn Johnson is an artist and educator working across multimedia painting, sculpture, and performance. She received an MFA from the University of California, Davis, and has participated in residencies including Casa Lu in Mexico City, Ali Yousefi Projects in Sacramento, and most recently, the Artist in Residence program at the Utah Museum of Contemporary Art. Her work has been shown in California, Oregon, New York, Utah, Washington, and Mexico City. Based in Salt Lake City, Brooklynn teaches children’s art classes through Summer Squash Studio and oil painting at Weber State University.

Artist statement

When I paint, I pull imagery from a personal lexicon of symbols. Shells, plant forms, hearts, volcanoes, and infinity signs emerge as familiar anchor points, each carrying layers of memory and meaning. As compositions develop, these images overlap, change color, stretch apart, and become hybrids. The resulting forms are mere suggestions of what they once were.

Like collecting fragments from sand, painting becomes an act of interpreting a whole that can no longer be seen in its original form. The paintings are an attempt to understand what remains when familiar things change, and to observe the new connections, meanings and messages that emerge when their edges blur.

Studio snack & song 001

Studio Snack 001: Trader Joe’s Raisin Rosemary Crisps, Chèvre with Honey Goat’s Milk Cheese, & freshly squeezed orange juice

(also on Apple Music)

Conversation with Brooklynn

What do you think your art is exploring?

At its core there’s this process of taking symbols that are meaningful to me and toying with them until they interact with each other and break apart. I think about it as a process of message building; almost like their connections compose new meaning or truth behind an image. I don’t know that images are inherently truthful or false, but maybe letting these symbols mesh with unexpected counterparts can help reveal something honest and fresh via their relationships that they can’t communicate on their own.

Two Shells Speaking, 16” x 20”, oil on linen, 2023

How much do you feel like knowing what your art is “about” matters?

I think it just depends. There needs to be a balance. If you worry too much about meaning and intention then it’s hard to experiment; it takes away a level of playfulness that you need in order to get somewhere. But paying attention to the patterns that keep repeating can help piece together an overarching story about the work and whatever it relates to. This can really make the act of making more spiritual.

Brooklynn’s studio at 6:17PM MDT, 7.28.26

I’m curious about how you used the word “spiritual”. Can you tell me about why you used it?

The value in something that’s impressionable to you can’t always be qualified or measured the way you’d measure a set of numbers, or a wavelength, or the weight of an object. There is an element that speaks to your personal history, to memory, family, interests, etc. I believe that what we are drawn to in art, whether it’s a certain color palette, or way of handling edges, or a particular type of imagery, comes from those personal and varied influences and connections, and is more embedded in the brain or the spirit. So, I think that when you make things and pay attention to the patterns that emerge, they come from this intuitive place that can’t be qualified or quantified in the same way that many other things can.

The Moon in Bethulia, 13” x 13.5”, wool on muslin, 2021 (in my home)

This is part 1 of 5 of Brooklynn’s studio visit—read part 2 next week and be sure to follow Brooklynn on Instagram or visit her website to see more.

Thanks for reading UT Studio Visit! Subscribe below for free.

Things I’m excited about:

]]>