April Coppini

 
 

April Coppini was born and raised in a wooded suburb of Rochester, New York...

She attended the University of the Arts in Philadelphia in 1990 and Alfred University, School of the Arts from 1991-1994. She received her BFA from Alfred in printmaking and drawing and moved to Portland, Oregon in 1995. April works at her home studio in NE Portland where she lives with her family and finds inspiration from her three children, their eleven chickens, two cats, and (the best ever) dog, Duke. When she is not working, she spends time watching her children, fussing over the chickens, computer stalking other artists and running with Duke.

"My work in the past few years has been a vague effort to record something wild and unseen about the form of animals; movement, life, the space between things. Shortly after hearing about the rapid disappearance of honey bees in our country (termed "colony collapse disorder"), I imagined a series of bee drawings. Displayed in the same erratic way that bees fly about, and conveying something of their importance or intrinsic value, my hope was that my effort to create these bees, would, in some way create more actual bees in the world. Since then, I have drawn and shown over 1000 bees, and the response to them has been both humbling and hopeful. I have no idea whether or not my drawings have actually helped the bees in any significant way (and/or helped us in the manner that all things are connected- we do, here, after all, depend on them to pollinate over 90% of our crops) but they have garnered more attention and inspired more conversation than anything I've ever done. And for myself, in the tumultuous throes of motherhood and an artist's life, they have been my motivational push... drawings done in the wee hours of the morning, at the breakfast table, behind the bar at work, in the middle of the living room between games with children and fixing meals. The industriousness of the bees themselves has forced its way into my own life, insisted on being incorporated into the ever-churning, already busy, and, as a result, I think my work has grown, become freer- capturing some of the energy around me in the creation of it. It is nothing short of a miracle to me that I can produce and show anything at all. Perhaps that which is invisible- in the sweaty necks of toddlers, the quiet careful of petting a sleeping bee in the garden in the morning, the exquisite impossibility of our lives and the world around us- can be held here in this work."