For Hanna Lee Joshi, the act of communication inspires art

In Hanna Lee Joshi’s art, the female form looms large. Sweeping lines of striking, colorful texture depict broad shoulders and rounded curves — the bend of a knee, the swoop of a breast — that fill a canvas. For the Vancouver-based Korean Canadian artist, this act of taking up space with a female form is very much intentional: “My current work is me exploring how to have autonomy over my mind, my body, my soul in a way,” she says.

There’s a duality to the figures in Lee Joshi’s art, a balance between larger-than-life proportions and soft shapes: One frame might show a woman in a strong sprint, a mane of flame-red hair streaming behind her, while another might show a trio of women in calming shades of blues, greens and pinks, hands outstretched, bodies arranged to share a space.

If there was one person who inspired Lee Joshi’s focus on strong women over the years, it’s her late paternal grandmother, whom she honors in her contribution to Adobe’s film Where I’m From which showcases the myriad ways in which Asian and Pacific Islander creators define their identities. “My grandma was a fierce matriarch,” she says. “Despite her fierceness, she loved with tenderness.”

We had the honor of speaking with Lee Joshi about her artistic journey and how creativity has allowed her to find her voice.

Could you tell us about your background?

I was born in South Korea, and I immigrated with my family, including my grandma, to British Columbia, Canada, in grade five. I’ve been in Canada ever since.

What are some of your earliest experiences as an artist?

From an early age, my grandma knew that I was really into drawing. She was always very encouraging of that. It was really difficult for me to immigrate to Canada and not be able to speak any English — I knew the alphabet and “hello,” that’s all. I remember immersing myself in art. When I didn’t have the language to express myself, I found that drawing was a way to connect with other kids. I couldn’t speak English, but people would come by my desk and say, “Oh, hey, you’re drawing Pokemon! That’s really cool!” That’s how I made connections. That made a huge impact on how I approached art.

How did you begin to pursue art as a career?

I went to Emily Carr University of Art + Design in Vancouver for an animation degree. After university, I worked as a storyboard artist in 2-D animation for eight years. When I was young, there wasn’t too much representation of Asian American women, especially creators, reflected back onto me. When I got into the animation studio, there wasn’t too much diversity, and I couldn’t really see my own personal view as an asset, which I really regret now. I thought blending in was key to surviving. Studio life really burned me out. That’s when I ventured into freelance illustration and fine art.

Mental health is a big topic in your work. How did you land on that theme?

As I was dealing with burnout at work, I got pretty sick with Graves’ disease [an autoimmune disorder that affects the thyroid]. That’s when I started to really struggle with my mental health. During that time, I tried medication and therapy, and nothing really worked until it clicked in my mind that there’s nothing that’s going to get me out except for myself. I had to make that change, not rely on something else outside of my body.

I started making a lot more personal work about that process. When I went through depression, I drew mostly in black and white, and when I finally emerged from that experience, I felt like the world was really bright and colorful. I really wanted to capture that feeling.

How did you figure out your own artistic style?

I organically arrived at my signature style. The textures in my work came from experimenting. I mainly use colored pencil, airbrush and washes of different colors. I usually do my ideation on paper, then to further that I go on Adobe Photoshop and quickly render it out to see what color combinations work. Then I take it to canvas or paper.

What is the story that you are telling through your art?

Communication is an inspiration for me to make art. I’ve had a lifetime of practice communicating across cultures, as someone who immigrated from South Korea to Canada and as someone who married into a Nepalese family. Coming from a very traditional Korean family, I really looked to my grandma’s example when I was starting to find my voice as an artist. She passed away when I was in college, but I imagine she would be proud of me. I use the word “therapy” when I describe my work because I’m working out ideas of autonomy and individuality on paper.

How did the female form become an area of focus for you?

I think the female form drawn from a female gaze is very important. When I started drawing these women’s bodies, it resonated with people. My parents ask me, ‘Why do you keep drawing naked women?’ and my response is that it’s just what I want to draw. That’s what I’m interested in. A lot of it is me trying to unravel internalized misogyny from my traditional upbringing to see myself as I am.

Why is sharing your voice important?

I think when you see your own struggle reflected on somebody else, there is a shared humanity. We’re not alone. A lot of the struggles that we feel are so personal are actually universal. There’s comfort in that. We can all grow from it. I’ll be honest, doing interviews has been so hard for me, just because I’ve always been really shy. But I’m trying to overcome that. I hope somebody out there can see their own struggle in me and see that it’s all right.