Elizabeth Glaessner in her studio in Brooklyn. Photograph by Hazel Byers.
Our recent Fall issue features a painting titled Big Head, by the Brooklyn-based artist Elizabeth Glaessner: a nearly-seven-foot piece that, for the cover of issue no. 257, we shrank down to approximately six inches by five. This September, we visited Glaessner at her studio in East Williamsburg to take a closer look at her process and to hear the origin story of the painting. On display beside other large-scale works were replicas of the same images, only smaller; we learned that Glaessner paints the same motifs over and over again—often with one hand leaning against the wall, leaving multicolored prints beside her paintings.
INTERVIEWER
Where did the idea for Big Head come from?
ELIZABETH GLAESSNER
Big Head started with a drawing of a smaller figure emerging from a mouth, an image based on childhood experiences involving fear and religion. I was curious to see if I could reframe some of that imagery through painting.
I looked at depictions of exorcisms or cleansing rituals in painting and film and made some works based on those, as well as on the original drawing and from memory. That smaller figure being exorcised in the original drawing reappears in Big Head, in the lower left-hand corner, as a figure painting the mouth from which it emerged. What started as a memory of control and submission became a painting that was also about release and reflection.
Elizabeth Glaessner, Spirit Rising study, 2025, charcoal on paper (LEFT). Elizabeth Glaessner, Big Head, 2025, oil on linen (RIGHT). © Elizabeth Glaessner. Both images courtesy of Elizabeth Glaessner and P·P·O·W, New York, photograph by JSP Art Photography.
So much changes during the process, and there’s a freedom in that. When I painted that head for the final time, I was thinking about the cycle of fear, violence, and control, but I was also thinking about the absurdity of painting a figure who is painting this giant head in a studio. I guess I’m always hoping to learn something through painting. That’s where some of the pleasure comes from, when the painting becomes something I wouldn’t have anticipated.
Photograph by Hazel Byers.
There’s a lot of water in these paintings.
GLAESSNER
The show that Big Head was in was called “Running Water.” I had been listening to a Daniel Johnston album while I was working, and in one of his songs he says, “Running water / Where are you running from? / You always seem to be on the run.” I thought it was a beautiful and sad metaphor and, in a way, it felt connected to how I was thinking about these paintings. This idea of being in constant motion but never really escaping yourself.
The figures were pretty porous—there were bodies, but the bodies kind of interfered with or were stretched or distorted by the environment. They didn’t have autonomous borders. They weren’t these closed entities. There was a lot of leaking and expelling in that show.
Why did you call it Big Head?
With an intense painting, I always want to find room for humor or levity. I think titles are an opportunity to contrast the dominant feeling, and can actually make that feeling more palpable. The title kind of teases the painting. It’s a tiny person painting a giant head, which sounds like it could be about the ego. I wanted to prod that idea.
What else do you listen to while you’re working?
I go through different phases. I used to listen to audiobooks or news podcasts, but recently I’ve just been listening to music in the studio. If I’m working on drawings or small paintings, I’ll listen to something ambient so that I can focus and hear myself think. When I work on a larger scale, I’ll listen to whatever helps me get into the right mood for the painting. If it goes well, then I’ll listen to that album on repeat until I’ve moved on. It helps me get into this trance state.
What are you reading now?
I just picked up No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai. I think it’s about alienation, or what it’s like to be human but not feel it—we’ll see.
Hazel Byers is the Review’s engagement editor.
Izzy Casey is the Review’s business and events manager.
Elizabeth Glaessner is a visual artist.
Last / Next Article
Share