In the industrial backdrop of Ridgewood, Brooklyn, Anna Park’s studio is less of a clean white cube and more of a high-pressure lab. At just 29, Park has moved at breakneck pace through the art world. She went from being a star student to a global name whose work now sits in major collections like the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. Born in Daegu, South Korea, and raised in Utah, Park spent her childhood constantly adjusting to new environments. That experience of being a first-generation immigrant in the American suburbs gave her exclusive POV to the social “performances” people do just to fit in—a theme that’s embedded in her unruly, charcoal creations.
After a stint in California, she landed at the New York Academy of Art, where she was discovered by KAWS during an open studio in 2019. That moment helped boost her career, leading to a chain of sold-out shows and a reputation for massive, soot-stained drawings that captured the messy, sensory overload of a night out in New York. Since then, her work has evolved from chaotic crowd scenes into something much more psychological and inward, though she’s never lost that familiar sense of rapid motion visually.
Her latest solo show, Hot Honey, which opened on April 30 at Lehmann Maupin in London, is a big page-turner for her career. For the first time, Park is breaking her own “no-color” rule, moving away from the monochromatic compositions that she’s ubiquitously known for and leaning into searing, intentional hues. She’s now working with aluminum panels and 3D-printed sculptural elements, using a palette inspired by the glow of fluorescent lights and the charm of vintage theater posters.
One of the core themes of Hot Honey is the “code-switching” humans do to survive in social situations. Park digs into her childhood love of Sunday comic strips and old Hollywood ads to pull out two specific archetypes: the dark vixen and the blond bombshell. They are an homage to the pair of contrasting female subjects that she associates with the past, but maintain relevance through mainstream cultural tropes. She uses these subjects to probe the gap between who we are in public and who we are behind closed doors. Plus, you’ll also notice text creeping into the work for the first time with phrases like “Let’s Pretend” that are embedded directly into the compositions. The texts reinforce these themes in subtle ways.
Step inside her studio and you’ll find it’s become a bit of a carnival, filled with paper-maché textures and a growing collection of vintage puppets. Park is the first to admit she has some “kooky” side hobbies, like hunting down porcelain puppets on Facebook Marketplace, but it all feeds the work. By mixing iPad sketches with raw, intuitive physical drawing, she’s finding a middle ground between high-tech construction and a total “purge” of ideas.
Park is proving that even with this new chapter of color and a 3D printer, the essence of her work is still about the human struggle of finding out where we belong. As part of our Visits series, we sat down with the Brooklyn-based artist as she discusses her comic-inspired works and breaking her “no-color” rule amid her solo debut at Lehmann Maupin London that is on view through May 30th.
“I love the monochromatic look because it’s seductive and strikes a certain depth, but color brought a new way of thinking about contrast.”
Walk us through what it is that you’re currently working on.
This is work for my upcoming show in London with Lehmann Maupin, opening April 30th, called Hot Honey. I’ve been working on these pieces since July of last year. The show came out of ideas borrowed from the aesthetics of theater, puppet shows, and magic shows. I was looking at a lot of old comic books because, as a kid, I used to copy the Sunday comic strips my mom saved for me. I wanted to revert back to that childhood joy of drawing.
How did the “characters” and the concept of the “two versions of self” in this new body of work develop?
Looking through old comics, I realized there are always these two tropes: the dark vixen and the vivacious blond bombshell. Media hasn’t changed much since then, there are still very few tropes for how the female body is represented. I started thinking of them as two versions of myself—the “Blond Girl POV” and the “Dark Vixen.” They are almost always in conflict, though they are one and the same. It’s about the public-presenting self versus the private self, and the code-switching we do in different social spaces. Having moved around throughout my childhood, I became more aware of having to adapt to my surroundings to feel like I belong.
You’ve traditionally been known for monochromatic work. What brought you to color for this show?
I always told myself I’d only use color if it made sense for the body of work. For Hot Honey, it felt wrong not to. I was thinking about the sound of fluorescent lights, sparklers and fireworks. The palette is a dual-tone version of fluorescent lights—a subdued version of the most garish colors you’d see in a performance space. I love the monochromatic look because it’s seductive and strikes a certain depth, but color brought a new way of thinking about contrast.
“I hate to be too tied to one image because the drawing needs to stay intuitive and chaotic.”
The construction of these pieces looks complex. How do you actually build them?
I hate resolved sketches! It starts super loose, just basic dimensions. For this show, my partner, Rob, built wooden panels and we even used iPad drawings to 3D-print sculptural elements. The surface is paper-maché on top of aluminum panels. I love the wrinkles and we use this material because it’s more stable than wood. I need those unexpected moments that I can’t fully control.
Is there a high-tech system behind how you use reference materials in the studio?
Not at all. I print them on a shitty printer and just tape them to the walls. It’s the least technological thing ever. They’re just jumping-off points. I hate to be too tied to one image because the drawing needs to stay intuitive and chaotic.
Which piece in this show challenged you the most?
Probably the one with ten different drawings underneath it. I kept redoing it and redoing it. With the color works, I was initially very anxious and insecure. I was so wrapped up in the end result that I forgot this was an exploratory phase. I have to treat the drawings like a relationship—sometimes I need space from them, and I can’t even look at them until we’ve “resolved our issues.”
“I want to revert back to the joy of making and remove the ‘ego’ of the art world.”
The “finale” piece of the show is quite striking. What’s the final sentiment of the collection?
I wanted the finale to show the two women realizing they are working toward the same goal. It features nods to Betty Boop and magicians—exaggerated versions of the self. There’s also a cheeky nod to the show title and the idea of “beautiful girls with hexes.” This work is a vessel for my personal thoughts without being too direct. The text embedded in it, like “Let’s Pretend,” is a nod to those roles we play.
We noticed some “unique” items around—can you tell us about the puppets and the side hobbies?
My end goal is to have a puppet show! I’ve been finding these weird, creepy puppets at vintage stores and on Facebook Marketplace. I once made my partner drive to Flushing because a seller wouldn’t take Venmo for a $30 porcelain puppet. I also found an old zoetrope. I want to revert back to the joy of making and remove the “ego” of the art world. I’m not trying to tell people how to think; I just want to share these weird, kooky moments.
If the studio were burning down, what’s the one thing you’d grab?
Honestly, if my dog and my partner are safe… I’d probably just let it burn. That sounds morbid, but you can always continue to make art! Maybe I’d grab a really old drawing, but logistically, how would I lug these huge panels out?
Is London a special place for you to be debuting this new direction?
It’s my first time going! My idea of London is only from movies, but it’s a huge theater hub, which fits the themes of the show perfectly. I just hope they don’t hate it and I promise I won’t try to do a British accent.
All images courtesy of Michael Kusumadjaja for Hypeart
